FromWilliam Corkine'sSecond Book of Airs, 1612.AWAY, away! call back what you have saidWhen you did vow to live and die a maid:O if you knew what chance to them befellThat dance about with bobtail apes in hell,Yourself your virgin girdle would divideAnd put aside the maiden veil that hidesThe chiefest gem of nature; and would lieProstrate to every peasant that goes by,Rather than undergo such shame: no tongue can tellWhat injury is done to maids in hell.
FromWilliam Corkine'sSecond Book of Airs, 1612.
AWAY, away! call back what you have saidWhen you did vow to live and die a maid:O if you knew what chance to them befellThat dance about with bobtail apes in hell,Yourself your virgin girdle would divideAnd put aside the maiden veil that hidesThe chiefest gem of nature; and would lieProstrate to every peasant that goes by,Rather than undergo such shame: no tongue can tellWhat injury is done to maids in hell.
AWAY, away! call back what you have saidWhen you did vow to live and die a maid:O if you knew what chance to them befellThat dance about with bobtail apes in hell,Yourself your virgin girdle would divideAnd put aside the maiden veil that hidesThe chiefest gem of nature; and would lieProstrate to every peasant that goes by,Rather than undergo such shame: no tongue can tellWhat injury is done to maids in hell.
FromThe Windsor Drollery, 1672.UNDER[61]the willow-shades they wereFree from the eye-sight of the sun,For no intruding beam could therePeep through to spy what things were done:Thus sheltered they unseen did lie,Surfeiting on each other's eye;Defended by the willow shades alone,The sun's heat they defied and cool'd their own.Whilst they did embrace unspied,The conscious willow seem'd to smile,That them[62]with privacy supplied,Holding the door, as 'twere, the while;And when their dalliances were o'er,The willows, to oblige them more,Bowing, did seem to say, as they withdrew,"We can supply you with a cradle too."
FromThe Windsor Drollery, 1672.
UNDER[61]the willow-shades they wereFree from the eye-sight of the sun,For no intruding beam could therePeep through to spy what things were done:Thus sheltered they unseen did lie,Surfeiting on each other's eye;Defended by the willow shades alone,The sun's heat they defied and cool'd their own.Whilst they did embrace unspied,The conscious willow seem'd to smile,That them[62]with privacy supplied,Holding the door, as 'twere, the while;And when their dalliances were o'er,The willows, to oblige them more,Bowing, did seem to say, as they withdrew,"We can supply you with a cradle too."
UNDER[61]the willow-shades they wereFree from the eye-sight of the sun,For no intruding beam could therePeep through to spy what things were done:Thus sheltered they unseen did lie,Surfeiting on each other's eye;Defended by the willow shades alone,The sun's heat they defied and cool'd their own.
Whilst they did embrace unspied,The conscious willow seem'd to smile,That them[62]with privacy supplied,Holding the door, as 'twere, the while;And when their dalliances were o'er,The willows, to oblige them more,Bowing, did seem to say, as they withdrew,"We can supply you with a cradle too."
FromThe Treasury of Music, 1669.Cælia's[63]Complaint.POOR Cælia once was very fair,A quick bewitching eye she had;Most neatly look'd her braided hair,Her dainty cheek would make you mad:Upon her lips did all the Graces play,And on her breasts ten thousand Cupids lay.Then many a doting lover came,From seventeen till twenty-one;Each told her of his mighty flame,But she foresooth affected none:One was not handsome, 'tother was not fine,This of tobacco smelt and that of wine.But 'tother day it was my fateTo walk along that way alone;I saw no coach before her gate,But at her door I heard her moan:She dropt a tear, and sighing seem'd to say"Young ladies, marry, marry while you may!"
FromThe Treasury of Music, 1669.
Cælia's[63]Complaint.
POOR Cælia once was very fair,A quick bewitching eye she had;Most neatly look'd her braided hair,Her dainty cheek would make you mad:Upon her lips did all the Graces play,And on her breasts ten thousand Cupids lay.Then many a doting lover came,From seventeen till twenty-one;Each told her of his mighty flame,But she foresooth affected none:One was not handsome, 'tother was not fine,This of tobacco smelt and that of wine.But 'tother day it was my fateTo walk along that way alone;I saw no coach before her gate,But at her door I heard her moan:She dropt a tear, and sighing seem'd to say"Young ladies, marry, marry while you may!"
POOR Cælia once was very fair,A quick bewitching eye she had;Most neatly look'd her braided hair,Her dainty cheek would make you mad:Upon her lips did all the Graces play,And on her breasts ten thousand Cupids lay.
Then many a doting lover came,From seventeen till twenty-one;Each told her of his mighty flame,But she foresooth affected none:One was not handsome, 'tother was not fine,This of tobacco smelt and that of wine.
But 'tother day it was my fateTo walk along that way alone;I saw no coach before her gate,But at her door I heard her moan:She dropt a tear, and sighing seem'd to say"Young ladies, marry, marry while you may!"
FromWilliam Corkine'sSecond book of Airs, 1612.TWO lovers sat lamentingHard by a crystal brook,Each other's heart tormenting,Exchanging look for look,With sighs and tears bewrayingTheir silent thoughts delaying:At last coth[64]one,"Shall we aloneSit here our thoughts bewraying?Fie, fie, O fie,O fie it may not be:Set looking by,Let speaking set us free."Then thus their silence breaking,Their thoughts too long estrangedThey do bewray by speaking,And words with words exchanged:Then one of them replied,"Great pity we had diedThus all aloneIn silent moanAnd not our thoughts descried.Fie, fie, O fie,O fie that had been illThat inwardlySilence the heart should kill."From looks and words to kissesThey made their next proceeding,And as their only blissesThey therein were exceeding.O what a joy is thisTo look, to talk, to kiss!But thus begun,Is now all done?Ah, all then nothing is!Fie, fie, O fie,O fie it is a hellAnd better dieThan kiss and not end well.
FromWilliam Corkine'sSecond book of Airs, 1612.
TWO lovers sat lamentingHard by a crystal brook,Each other's heart tormenting,Exchanging look for look,With sighs and tears bewrayingTheir silent thoughts delaying:At last coth[64]one,"Shall we aloneSit here our thoughts bewraying?Fie, fie, O fie,O fie it may not be:Set looking by,Let speaking set us free."Then thus their silence breaking,Their thoughts too long estrangedThey do bewray by speaking,And words with words exchanged:Then one of them replied,"Great pity we had diedThus all aloneIn silent moanAnd not our thoughts descried.Fie, fie, O fie,O fie that had been illThat inwardlySilence the heart should kill."From looks and words to kissesThey made their next proceeding,And as their only blissesThey therein were exceeding.O what a joy is thisTo look, to talk, to kiss!But thus begun,Is now all done?Ah, all then nothing is!Fie, fie, O fie,O fie it is a hellAnd better dieThan kiss and not end well.
TWO lovers sat lamentingHard by a crystal brook,Each other's heart tormenting,Exchanging look for look,With sighs and tears bewrayingTheir silent thoughts delaying:At last coth[64]one,"Shall we aloneSit here our thoughts bewraying?Fie, fie, O fie,O fie it may not be:Set looking by,Let speaking set us free."
Then thus their silence breaking,Their thoughts too long estrangedThey do bewray by speaking,And words with words exchanged:Then one of them replied,"Great pity we had diedThus all aloneIn silent moanAnd not our thoughts descried.Fie, fie, O fie,O fie that had been illThat inwardlySilence the heart should kill."
From looks and words to kissesThey made their next proceeding,And as their only blissesThey therein were exceeding.O what a joy is thisTo look, to talk, to kiss!But thus begun,Is now all done?Ah, all then nothing is!Fie, fie, O fie,O fie it is a hellAnd better dieThan kiss and not end well.
FromSportive Wit, 1656.CHLORIS,[65]forbear a while,Do not o'erjoy me,Urge not another smileLest it destroy me;That beauty passeth mostAnd is best taking,Which is soon won, soon lost,Kind, yet forsaking:I love a coming Lady, 'faith I do,But now and then I'd have her scornful too.O'ercloud those eyes of thine,Bopeep thy features,Warm with an April shine,Scorch not thy creatures;Still to display thy ware,Still to be fooling,Argues how rude you areIn Cupid's schooling:Disdain begets a smile, scorn draws us nigh,'Tis 'cause I would, and cannot, makes me try.Chloris, I'd have thee wise:When gallants view thee,Courting do thou despise,Fly those pursue thee:Fast moves an appetiteMakes hunger greater;Who's stinted of delightFalls to't the better:Be coy and kind betimes, be smooth and rough,And buckle now and then, and that's enough.
FromSportive Wit, 1656.
CHLORIS,[65]forbear a while,Do not o'erjoy me,Urge not another smileLest it destroy me;That beauty passeth mostAnd is best taking,Which is soon won, soon lost,Kind, yet forsaking:I love a coming Lady, 'faith I do,But now and then I'd have her scornful too.O'ercloud those eyes of thine,Bopeep thy features,Warm with an April shine,Scorch not thy creatures;Still to display thy ware,Still to be fooling,Argues how rude you areIn Cupid's schooling:Disdain begets a smile, scorn draws us nigh,'Tis 'cause I would, and cannot, makes me try.Chloris, I'd have thee wise:When gallants view thee,Courting do thou despise,Fly those pursue thee:Fast moves an appetiteMakes hunger greater;Who's stinted of delightFalls to't the better:Be coy and kind betimes, be smooth and rough,And buckle now and then, and that's enough.
CHLORIS,[65]forbear a while,Do not o'erjoy me,Urge not another smileLest it destroy me;That beauty passeth mostAnd is best taking,Which is soon won, soon lost,Kind, yet forsaking:I love a coming Lady, 'faith I do,But now and then I'd have her scornful too.
O'ercloud those eyes of thine,Bopeep thy features,Warm with an April shine,Scorch not thy creatures;Still to display thy ware,Still to be fooling,Argues how rude you areIn Cupid's schooling:Disdain begets a smile, scorn draws us nigh,'Tis 'cause I would, and cannot, makes me try.
Chloris, I'd have thee wise:When gallants view thee,Courting do thou despise,Fly those pursue thee:Fast moves an appetiteMakes hunger greater;Who's stinted of delightFalls to't the better:Be coy and kind betimes, be smooth and rough,And buckle now and then, and that's enough.
FromSongs and Poems of Love and Drollery. By T. W., 1654.FAIR Chloris in a gentle slumber lay,Sleep taking restIn her calm breast,Whilst her veil'd eyes seem'd to eclipse the dayThe wanton sun would court her fain,Peep'd here and there, but all in vain.The leafy boughs a guard had made,Planting between their envious shade;Whereat he chid his idle beams, that heShould want an eye whereby himself might see.
FromSongs and Poems of Love and Drollery. By T. W., 1654.
FAIR Chloris in a gentle slumber lay,Sleep taking restIn her calm breast,Whilst her veil'd eyes seem'd to eclipse the dayThe wanton sun would court her fain,Peep'd here and there, but all in vain.The leafy boughs a guard had made,Planting between their envious shade;Whereat he chid his idle beams, that heShould want an eye whereby himself might see.
FAIR Chloris in a gentle slumber lay,Sleep taking restIn her calm breast,Whilst her veil'd eyes seem'd to eclipse the day
The wanton sun would court her fain,Peep'd here and there, but all in vain.The leafy boughs a guard had made,Planting between their envious shade;Whereat he chid his idle beams, that heShould want an eye whereby himself might see.
FromCampionandRosseter'sBook of Airs, 1601.MY love hath vowed he will forsake me,And I am already sped;Far other promise he did make meWhen he had my maidenhead.If such danger be in playingAnd sport must to earnest turn,I will go no more a-maying.Had I foreseen what is ensued,And what now with pain I prove,Unhappy then I had eschewedThis unkind event of love:Maids foreknow their own undoing,But fear naught till all is done,When a man alone is wooing.Dissembling wretch, to gain thy pleasure,What didst thou not vow and swear?So didst thou rob me of the treasureWhich so long I held so dear.Now thou provest to me a stranger:Such is the vile guise of menWhen a woman is in danger.That heart is nearest to misfortuneThat will trust a feigned tongue;When flatt'ring men our loves importuneThey intend us deepest wrong.If this shame of love's betrayingBut this once I cleanly shun,I will go no more a-maying.
FromCampionandRosseter'sBook of Airs, 1601.
MY love hath vowed he will forsake me,And I am already sped;Far other promise he did make meWhen he had my maidenhead.If such danger be in playingAnd sport must to earnest turn,I will go no more a-maying.Had I foreseen what is ensued,And what now with pain I prove,Unhappy then I had eschewedThis unkind event of love:Maids foreknow their own undoing,But fear naught till all is done,When a man alone is wooing.Dissembling wretch, to gain thy pleasure,What didst thou not vow and swear?So didst thou rob me of the treasureWhich so long I held so dear.Now thou provest to me a stranger:Such is the vile guise of menWhen a woman is in danger.That heart is nearest to misfortuneThat will trust a feigned tongue;When flatt'ring men our loves importuneThey intend us deepest wrong.If this shame of love's betrayingBut this once I cleanly shun,I will go no more a-maying.
MY love hath vowed he will forsake me,And I am already sped;Far other promise he did make meWhen he had my maidenhead.If such danger be in playingAnd sport must to earnest turn,I will go no more a-maying.
Had I foreseen what is ensued,And what now with pain I prove,Unhappy then I had eschewedThis unkind event of love:Maids foreknow their own undoing,But fear naught till all is done,When a man alone is wooing.
Dissembling wretch, to gain thy pleasure,What didst thou not vow and swear?So didst thou rob me of the treasureWhich so long I held so dear.Now thou provest to me a stranger:Such is the vile guise of menWhen a woman is in danger.
That heart is nearest to misfortuneThat will trust a feigned tongue;When flatt'ring men our loves importuneThey intend us deepest wrong.If this shame of love's betrayingBut this once I cleanly shun,I will go no more a-maying.
FromVinculum Societatis, or the Tie of Good Company, 1687.SILVIA, now your scorn give overLest you lose a faithful lover:If this humour you pursue,Farewell Love and Silvia too.Long have I been unregarded,Sighs and tears still unrewarded:If this does with you agree,Troth, good Madam, 'twon't with me.
FromVinculum Societatis, or the Tie of Good Company, 1687.
SILVIA, now your scorn give overLest you lose a faithful lover:If this humour you pursue,Farewell Love and Silvia too.Long have I been unregarded,Sighs and tears still unrewarded:If this does with you agree,Troth, good Madam, 'twon't with me.
SILVIA, now your scorn give overLest you lose a faithful lover:If this humour you pursue,Farewell Love and Silvia too.Long have I been unregarded,Sighs and tears still unrewarded:If this does with you agree,Troth, good Madam, 'twon't with me.
FromThe Marrow of Compliments, 1655.MAIDS[66]they are grown so coy of lateForsooth they will not marry;Though they be in their teens and past,They say that they can tarry.But if they knew how sweet a thingIt were in youth to marry,They'd sell their petticoats, smocks, and allEre they so long would tarry.The wench that is most coy of all,If she had time and leisure,Would lay by all her several thoughtsAnd turn to love and pleasure;For even the wisest heads sometimesPut on the face of folly,And maids do nevermore repentThan when they are too holy.Winter nights are long, you know,And bitter cold the weather;Then who's so fond to lie aloneWhen two may lie together?And is't not brave when summer's robesHave all the fields encowledTo have a green gown on the grassAnd wear it uncontroul'd?
FromThe Marrow of Compliments, 1655.
MAIDS[66]they are grown so coy of lateForsooth they will not marry;Though they be in their teens and past,They say that they can tarry.But if they knew how sweet a thingIt were in youth to marry,They'd sell their petticoats, smocks, and allEre they so long would tarry.The wench that is most coy of all,If she had time and leisure,Would lay by all her several thoughtsAnd turn to love and pleasure;For even the wisest heads sometimesPut on the face of folly,And maids do nevermore repentThan when they are too holy.Winter nights are long, you know,And bitter cold the weather;Then who's so fond to lie aloneWhen two may lie together?And is't not brave when summer's robesHave all the fields encowledTo have a green gown on the grassAnd wear it uncontroul'd?
MAIDS[66]they are grown so coy of lateForsooth they will not marry;Though they be in their teens and past,They say that they can tarry.But if they knew how sweet a thingIt were in youth to marry,They'd sell their petticoats, smocks, and allEre they so long would tarry.
The wench that is most coy of all,If she had time and leisure,Would lay by all her several thoughtsAnd turn to love and pleasure;For even the wisest heads sometimesPut on the face of folly,And maids do nevermore repentThan when they are too holy.
Winter nights are long, you know,And bitter cold the weather;Then who's so fond to lie aloneWhen two may lie together?
And is't not brave when summer's robesHave all the fields encowledTo have a green gown on the grassAnd wear it uncontroul'd?
FromHenry Lawes'Airs and Dialogues, 1653.A[67]Caution to Fair Ladies.LADIES, you that seem so nice,And as cold in show as ice,And perhaps have held out thrice;Do not think but in a triceOne or other may entice,And at last by some deviceSet your honours at a price.You whose smooth and dainty skin,Rosy lips, or cheeks, or chin,All that gaze upon you win,Yet insult not: sparks withinSlowly burn ere flames begin,And presumption still hath beenHeld a most notorious sin.
FromHenry Lawes'Airs and Dialogues, 1653.
A[67]Caution to Fair Ladies.
LADIES, you that seem so nice,And as cold in show as ice,And perhaps have held out thrice;Do not think but in a triceOne or other may entice,And at last by some deviceSet your honours at a price.You whose smooth and dainty skin,Rosy lips, or cheeks, or chin,All that gaze upon you win,Yet insult not: sparks withinSlowly burn ere flames begin,And presumption still hath beenHeld a most notorious sin.
LADIES, you that seem so nice,And as cold in show as ice,And perhaps have held out thrice;Do not think but in a triceOne or other may entice,And at last by some deviceSet your honours at a price.
You whose smooth and dainty skin,Rosy lips, or cheeks, or chin,All that gaze upon you win,Yet insult not: sparks withinSlowly burn ere flames begin,And presumption still hath beenHeld a most notorious sin.
FromThomas Campion'sFourth Book of Airs(circ. 1617).IF any hath the heart to kill,Come rid me of this woeful pain,For while I live I suffer stillThis cruel torment all in vain;Yet none alive but one can guessWhat is the cause of my distress.Thanks be to heaven, no grievous smart,No maladies my limbs annoy:I bear a sound and sprightful heartYet live I quite deprived of joy;Since what I had in vain I crave,And what I had not now I have.A love I had so fair, so sweet,As ever wanton eye did see;Once by appointment we did meet:She would, but ah! it would not be.She gave her heart, her hand she gave:All did I give, she naught could have.What hag did then my powers forespeak,That never yet such taint did feel?Now she rejects me as one weak,Yet am I all composed of steel.Ah! this is it my heart doth grieve:Now, though she sees, she'll not believe.
FromThomas Campion'sFourth Book of Airs(circ. 1617).
IF any hath the heart to kill,Come rid me of this woeful pain,For while I live I suffer stillThis cruel torment all in vain;Yet none alive but one can guessWhat is the cause of my distress.Thanks be to heaven, no grievous smart,No maladies my limbs annoy:I bear a sound and sprightful heartYet live I quite deprived of joy;Since what I had in vain I crave,And what I had not now I have.A love I had so fair, so sweet,As ever wanton eye did see;Once by appointment we did meet:She would, but ah! it would not be.She gave her heart, her hand she gave:All did I give, she naught could have.What hag did then my powers forespeak,That never yet such taint did feel?Now she rejects me as one weak,Yet am I all composed of steel.Ah! this is it my heart doth grieve:Now, though she sees, she'll not believe.
IF any hath the heart to kill,Come rid me of this woeful pain,For while I live I suffer stillThis cruel torment all in vain;Yet none alive but one can guessWhat is the cause of my distress.
Thanks be to heaven, no grievous smart,No maladies my limbs annoy:I bear a sound and sprightful heartYet live I quite deprived of joy;Since what I had in vain I crave,And what I had not now I have.
A love I had so fair, so sweet,As ever wanton eye did see;Once by appointment we did meet:She would, but ah! it would not be.She gave her heart, her hand she gave:All did I give, she naught could have.
What hag did then my powers forespeak,That never yet such taint did feel?Now she rejects me as one weak,Yet am I all composed of steel.Ah! this is it my heart doth grieve:Now, though she sees, she'll not believe.
FromThe Academy of Compliments, 1650.WHEN doth Love set forth desire?In prime of youth, men say.And when again will it retire?When beauty falls away.Then you in youth that think on this,Taste what the sweetness of love is.The night comes not at lovers' call;Being come, stays not their leisure;Hours that are sweet are swift withall,And attend not on our pleasure:[68]Then you in youth, that think on this,Taste what the sweet of beauty is.
FromThe Academy of Compliments, 1650.
WHEN doth Love set forth desire?In prime of youth, men say.And when again will it retire?When beauty falls away.Then you in youth that think on this,Taste what the sweetness of love is.The night comes not at lovers' call;Being come, stays not their leisure;Hours that are sweet are swift withall,And attend not on our pleasure:[68]Then you in youth, that think on this,Taste what the sweet of beauty is.
WHEN doth Love set forth desire?In prime of youth, men say.And when again will it retire?When beauty falls away.Then you in youth that think on this,Taste what the sweetness of love is.
The night comes not at lovers' call;Being come, stays not their leisure;Hours that are sweet are swift withall,And attend not on our pleasure:[68]Then you in youth, that think on this,Taste what the sweet of beauty is.
John Cotgrave'sWit's Interpreter, 1655.I[69]WALK'D abroad not long ago,But will not tell you whither;It is where flowers of beauty growAnd fair ones flock together.And Cupid will great wonders showIf ever you come thither.For like two suns, two beauties brightDid shining sit together,As tempted by their double lightMine eyes were fix'd on either;And both at once so show'd their might,I loved, but knew not whether.Such equal sweetness Venus gaveThat she preferr'd not either;That when for love I sought to crave,I knew not well of whether:For one while this I liked to have,And then I that had rather.A lover of the choicest eyeMight have been pleased with either,And so I must confess should I,Had they not been together:Now both must love or both deny,In one enjoy I neither.But, happy chance, I feel no smartTo curse my coming thither;For, since that my divided heartI[n] choosing knew not whether,Love angry grew and did depart:And now I care for neither.
John Cotgrave'sWit's Interpreter, 1655.
I[69]WALK'D abroad not long ago,But will not tell you whither;It is where flowers of beauty growAnd fair ones flock together.And Cupid will great wonders showIf ever you come thither.For like two suns, two beauties brightDid shining sit together,As tempted by their double lightMine eyes were fix'd on either;And both at once so show'd their might,I loved, but knew not whether.Such equal sweetness Venus gaveThat she preferr'd not either;That when for love I sought to crave,I knew not well of whether:For one while this I liked to have,And then I that had rather.A lover of the choicest eyeMight have been pleased with either,And so I must confess should I,Had they not been together:Now both must love or both deny,In one enjoy I neither.But, happy chance, I feel no smartTo curse my coming thither;For, since that my divided heartI[n] choosing knew not whether,Love angry grew and did depart:And now I care for neither.
I[69]WALK'D abroad not long ago,But will not tell you whither;It is where flowers of beauty growAnd fair ones flock together.And Cupid will great wonders showIf ever you come thither.
For like two suns, two beauties brightDid shining sit together,As tempted by their double lightMine eyes were fix'd on either;And both at once so show'd their might,I loved, but knew not whether.
Such equal sweetness Venus gaveThat she preferr'd not either;That when for love I sought to crave,I knew not well of whether:For one while this I liked to have,And then I that had rather.
A lover of the choicest eyeMight have been pleased with either,And so I must confess should I,Had they not been together:Now both must love or both deny,In one enjoy I neither.
But, happy chance, I feel no smartTo curse my coming thither;For, since that my divided heartI[n] choosing knew not whether,Love angry grew and did depart:And now I care for neither.
FromMelpomene; or the Muses' Delight, 1678.Fading Beauty.TAKE Time, my dear, ere Time takes wing:Beauty knows no second spring.Marble pillars, tombs of brass,Time breaks down, much more this glass.Then ere that tyrant Time bespeak it,Let's drink healths in't first, then break it.At twenty-five in women's eyesBeauty does fade, at thirty dies.
FromMelpomene; or the Muses' Delight, 1678.
Fading Beauty.
TAKE Time, my dear, ere Time takes wing:Beauty knows no second spring.Marble pillars, tombs of brass,Time breaks down, much more this glass.Then ere that tyrant Time bespeak it,Let's drink healths in't first, then break it.At twenty-five in women's eyesBeauty does fade, at thirty dies.
TAKE Time, my dear, ere Time takes wing:Beauty knows no second spring.Marble pillars, tombs of brass,Time breaks down, much more this glass.Then ere that tyrant Time bespeak it,Let's drink healths in't first, then break it.At twenty-five in women's eyesBeauty does fade, at thirty dies.
FromComes Amoris, 1687.WHEN[70]first Amyntas sued for a kissMy innocent heart was tender,That though I pushed him away from the bliss,My eyes declared my heart was won.I fain an artful coyness would useBefore the fort I did surrender;But Love would suffer no more such abuse,And soon alas! my cheat was known.He'd sit all day, and laugh and play;A thousand pretty things would say;My hand he'd squeeze, and press my knees,Till further on he got by degrees.My heart, just like a vessel at sea,Would toss when Amyntas was near me.But ah, so cunning a pilot was he,Through doubts and fears he'd still sail on;I thought in him no danger could be,So wisely he knew how to steer me;And soon, alas! was brought t'agreeTo taste of joys before unknown.Well might he boast his pain not lost,For soon he found the golden coast,Enjoyed the ore, and touched the shoreWhere never merchant went before.
FromComes Amoris, 1687.
WHEN[70]first Amyntas sued for a kissMy innocent heart was tender,That though I pushed him away from the bliss,My eyes declared my heart was won.I fain an artful coyness would useBefore the fort I did surrender;But Love would suffer no more such abuse,And soon alas! my cheat was known.He'd sit all day, and laugh and play;A thousand pretty things would say;My hand he'd squeeze, and press my knees,Till further on he got by degrees.My heart, just like a vessel at sea,Would toss when Amyntas was near me.But ah, so cunning a pilot was he,Through doubts and fears he'd still sail on;I thought in him no danger could be,So wisely he knew how to steer me;And soon, alas! was brought t'agreeTo taste of joys before unknown.Well might he boast his pain not lost,For soon he found the golden coast,Enjoyed the ore, and touched the shoreWhere never merchant went before.
WHEN[70]first Amyntas sued for a kissMy innocent heart was tender,That though I pushed him away from the bliss,My eyes declared my heart was won.I fain an artful coyness would useBefore the fort I did surrender;But Love would suffer no more such abuse,And soon alas! my cheat was known.He'd sit all day, and laugh and play;A thousand pretty things would say;My hand he'd squeeze, and press my knees,Till further on he got by degrees.
My heart, just like a vessel at sea,Would toss when Amyntas was near me.But ah, so cunning a pilot was he,Through doubts and fears he'd still sail on;I thought in him no danger could be,So wisely he knew how to steer me;And soon, alas! was brought t'agreeTo taste of joys before unknown.Well might he boast his pain not lost,For soon he found the golden coast,Enjoyed the ore, and touched the shoreWhere never merchant went before.
FromThomas Weelkes'Airs or Fantastic Spirits, 1608.SOME men desire spousesThat come of noble houses,And some would have in marriageLadies of courtly carriage:Fa la la!But few desire, as I do,The maidenhead of a widow.Fa la la!Some think fair youth will cherishStrength that begins to perish;I'll have no colts to taming,Let me be young'st at gaming.Fa la la!I'll get o'er, I'll go nigh to,The maidenhead of a widow.Fa la la!
FromThomas Weelkes'Airs or Fantastic Spirits, 1608.
SOME men desire spousesThat come of noble houses,And some would have in marriageLadies of courtly carriage:Fa la la!But few desire, as I do,The maidenhead of a widow.Fa la la!Some think fair youth will cherishStrength that begins to perish;I'll have no colts to taming,Let me be young'st at gaming.Fa la la!I'll get o'er, I'll go nigh to,The maidenhead of a widow.Fa la la!
SOME men desire spousesThat come of noble houses,And some would have in marriageLadies of courtly carriage:Fa la la!But few desire, as I do,The maidenhead of a widow.Fa la la!
Some think fair youth will cherishStrength that begins to perish;I'll have no colts to taming,Let me be young'st at gaming.Fa la la!I'll get o'er, I'll go nigh to,The maidenhead of a widow.Fa la la!
FromThe Westminster Drollery, 1671.The Advice.[71]PHILLIS, for shame! let us improveA thousand several waysThese few short minutes stol'n by loveFrom many tedious days.Whilst you want courage to despiseThe censure of the grave,For all the tyrants in your eyes,Your heart is but a slave.My love is full of noble pride,And never will submitTo let that fop Discretion rideIn triumph o'er our wit.False friends I have, as well as you,That daily counsel meVain friv'lous trifles to pursueAnd leave off loving thee.When I the least belief bestowOn what such fools advise,May I be dull enough to growMost miserably wise.
FromThe Westminster Drollery, 1671.
The Advice.[71]
PHILLIS, for shame! let us improveA thousand several waysThese few short minutes stol'n by loveFrom many tedious days.Whilst you want courage to despiseThe censure of the grave,For all the tyrants in your eyes,Your heart is but a slave.My love is full of noble pride,And never will submitTo let that fop Discretion rideIn triumph o'er our wit.False friends I have, as well as you,That daily counsel meVain friv'lous trifles to pursueAnd leave off loving thee.When I the least belief bestowOn what such fools advise,May I be dull enough to growMost miserably wise.
PHILLIS, for shame! let us improveA thousand several waysThese few short minutes stol'n by loveFrom many tedious days.
Whilst you want courage to despiseThe censure of the grave,For all the tyrants in your eyes,Your heart is but a slave.
My love is full of noble pride,And never will submitTo let that fop Discretion rideIn triumph o'er our wit.
False friends I have, as well as you,That daily counsel meVain friv'lous trifles to pursueAnd leave off loving thee.
When I the least belief bestowOn what such fools advise,May I be dull enough to growMost miserably wise.
FromSongs and Poems of Love and Drollery. By T. W., 1654.To Sylvia,On a Bracelet of her Hair.KNOW, Sylvia, that your curious twist,Which charms my heart and decks my wrist,On which I gaze so oft and payThousands of kisses every day,Is not so much my love and care'Cause tis composed of your hair;And yet it truly may be saidSun-beams are woven of coarser thread;Nor do I therefore like 't so muchBecause I find the art is suchThat if Arachne, when she stroveWith Pallas, the like web had wove,She had her skill and wrath o'ercomeAnd gain'd a triumph, not a doom:No, Sylvia, I the truth will tell;I do not therefore like 't so wellBecause it is thy hair and art,But that it is thy gift, dear heart.
FromSongs and Poems of Love and Drollery. By T. W., 1654.
To Sylvia,
On a Bracelet of her Hair.
KNOW, Sylvia, that your curious twist,Which charms my heart and decks my wrist,On which I gaze so oft and payThousands of kisses every day,Is not so much my love and care'Cause tis composed of your hair;And yet it truly may be saidSun-beams are woven of coarser thread;Nor do I therefore like 't so muchBecause I find the art is suchThat if Arachne, when she stroveWith Pallas, the like web had wove,She had her skill and wrath o'ercomeAnd gain'd a triumph, not a doom:No, Sylvia, I the truth will tell;I do not therefore like 't so wellBecause it is thy hair and art,But that it is thy gift, dear heart.
KNOW, Sylvia, that your curious twist,Which charms my heart and decks my wrist,On which I gaze so oft and payThousands of kisses every day,Is not so much my love and care'Cause tis composed of your hair;And yet it truly may be saidSun-beams are woven of coarser thread;Nor do I therefore like 't so muchBecause I find the art is suchThat if Arachne, when she stroveWith Pallas, the like web had wove,She had her skill and wrath o'ercomeAnd gain'd a triumph, not a doom:No, Sylvia, I the truth will tell;I do not therefore like 't so wellBecause it is thy hair and art,But that it is thy gift, dear heart.
FromThe New Academy of Compliments, 1671.IHAVE followed thee a year at least,And never stopped myself to rest,But yet can thee o'ertake no moreThan this day can the day that went before.In this our fortunes equal proveTo stars which govern them above;Our stars they move for ever roundWith the same distance still betwixt them found.In vain, alas! in vain I striveThe wheel of fate faster to drive,Since if around it swifter fly,She in it mends her pace as much as I.Hearts by Love strangely shuffled are,That there can never meet a pair;Tamelier than worms are lovers slain;The wounded heart ne'er turns to wound again.
FromThe New Academy of Compliments, 1671.
IHAVE followed thee a year at least,And never stopped myself to rest,But yet can thee o'ertake no moreThan this day can the day that went before.In this our fortunes equal proveTo stars which govern them above;Our stars they move for ever roundWith the same distance still betwixt them found.In vain, alas! in vain I striveThe wheel of fate faster to drive,Since if around it swifter fly,She in it mends her pace as much as I.Hearts by Love strangely shuffled are,That there can never meet a pair;Tamelier than worms are lovers slain;The wounded heart ne'er turns to wound again.
IHAVE followed thee a year at least,And never stopped myself to rest,But yet can thee o'ertake no moreThan this day can the day that went before.
In this our fortunes equal proveTo stars which govern them above;Our stars they move for ever roundWith the same distance still betwixt them found.
In vain, alas! in vain I striveThe wheel of fate faster to drive,Since if around it swifter fly,She in it mends her pace as much as I.
Hearts by Love strangely shuffled are,That there can never meet a pair;Tamelier than worms are lovers slain;The wounded heart ne'er turns to wound again.
FromTixall Poetry,[72]1813.To Flora.WHAT though Flora frowns on me?'Tis but a chance of destiny.The wisest I have heard to say,'Tis dusk before the break of day.Why should I curse that hour of nightThat brings the day to light?Each angry look appears to meAs witness of her modesty;And blustering storms do but forerunThe lustre of a brighter sun;Which when appeased, I'm full possess'dHer frowns are but in jest.I know, fair Flora, in thy breastA killing anger cannot rest:Yet for my humour I will loveThough thou to me a fury prove:I know thy soul is so refinedThou wilt at last prove kind.
FromTixall Poetry,[72]1813.
To Flora.
WHAT though Flora frowns on me?'Tis but a chance of destiny.The wisest I have heard to say,'Tis dusk before the break of day.Why should I curse that hour of nightThat brings the day to light?Each angry look appears to meAs witness of her modesty;And blustering storms do but forerunThe lustre of a brighter sun;Which when appeased, I'm full possess'dHer frowns are but in jest.I know, fair Flora, in thy breastA killing anger cannot rest:Yet for my humour I will loveThough thou to me a fury prove:I know thy soul is so refinedThou wilt at last prove kind.
WHAT though Flora frowns on me?'Tis but a chance of destiny.The wisest I have heard to say,'Tis dusk before the break of day.Why should I curse that hour of nightThat brings the day to light?
Each angry look appears to meAs witness of her modesty;And blustering storms do but forerunThe lustre of a brighter sun;Which when appeased, I'm full possess'dHer frowns are but in jest.
I know, fair Flora, in thy breastA killing anger cannot rest:Yet for my humour I will loveThough thou to me a fury prove:I know thy soul is so refinedThou wilt at last prove kind.
FromThe New Academy of Compliments, 1671.FAIREST thing that shines below,Why in this robe dost thou appear?Wouldst thou a white most perfect show,Thou must at all no garments wear:For thou wilt seem much whiter soThan winter when 'tis clad in snow.'Tis not the linen shows so fair,Her skin shines through and makes it bright;So clouds themselves like suns appearWhen the sun pierces them with light;So, lilies in a glass enclose,The glass will seem as white as those.Thou now one heap of beauty art,Nought outwards or within is foul;Condensed beams make every part,The body's clothed like the soul,Thy soul which does itself displayLike a star placed i' th' milky way.Such robes the saints departed wear,Woven all with light divine;Such their exalted bodies are,And with such full glory shine:But they regard no mortal's pain,Men pray (I fear) to both in vain.Yet, seeing thee so gently pure,My hopes will needs continue still;Thou wouldst not take this garment, sure,When thou hadst an intent to kill:Of peace and yielding who would doubtWhen the white flag he sees hung out?
FromThe New Academy of Compliments, 1671.
FAIREST thing that shines below,Why in this robe dost thou appear?Wouldst thou a white most perfect show,Thou must at all no garments wear:For thou wilt seem much whiter soThan winter when 'tis clad in snow.'Tis not the linen shows so fair,Her skin shines through and makes it bright;So clouds themselves like suns appearWhen the sun pierces them with light;So, lilies in a glass enclose,The glass will seem as white as those.Thou now one heap of beauty art,Nought outwards or within is foul;Condensed beams make every part,The body's clothed like the soul,Thy soul which does itself displayLike a star placed i' th' milky way.Such robes the saints departed wear,Woven all with light divine;Such their exalted bodies are,And with such full glory shine:But they regard no mortal's pain,Men pray (I fear) to both in vain.Yet, seeing thee so gently pure,My hopes will needs continue still;Thou wouldst not take this garment, sure,When thou hadst an intent to kill:Of peace and yielding who would doubtWhen the white flag he sees hung out?
FAIREST thing that shines below,Why in this robe dost thou appear?Wouldst thou a white most perfect show,Thou must at all no garments wear:For thou wilt seem much whiter soThan winter when 'tis clad in snow.
'Tis not the linen shows so fair,Her skin shines through and makes it bright;So clouds themselves like suns appearWhen the sun pierces them with light;So, lilies in a glass enclose,The glass will seem as white as those.
Thou now one heap of beauty art,Nought outwards or within is foul;Condensed beams make every part,The body's clothed like the soul,Thy soul which does itself displayLike a star placed i' th' milky way.
Such robes the saints departed wear,Woven all with light divine;Such their exalted bodies are,And with such full glory shine:But they regard no mortal's pain,Men pray (I fear) to both in vain.
Yet, seeing thee so gently pure,My hopes will needs continue still;Thou wouldst not take this garment, sure,When thou hadst an intent to kill:Of peace and yielding who would doubtWhen the white flag he sees hung out?
FromWit's Cabinet, n. d.Virgins Admonished.PRETTY nymph, why always blushing?If thou love'st why art thou so coy?In thy cheeks these roses flushingShew thee fearful of thy joy.What is man that thou shouldst dreadTo change with him a maidenhead?At first all virgins fear to do itAnd but trifle away their time,And still unwilling to come to itIn foolish whining spend their time;But when they once have found the way,Then they are for it night and day.
FromWit's Cabinet, n. d.
Virgins Admonished.
PRETTY nymph, why always blushing?If thou love'st why art thou so coy?In thy cheeks these roses flushingShew thee fearful of thy joy.What is man that thou shouldst dreadTo change with him a maidenhead?At first all virgins fear to do itAnd but trifle away their time,And still unwilling to come to itIn foolish whining spend their time;But when they once have found the way,Then they are for it night and day.
PRETTY nymph, why always blushing?If thou love'st why art thou so coy?In thy cheeks these roses flushingShew thee fearful of thy joy.What is man that thou shouldst dreadTo change with him a maidenhead?At first all virgins fear to do itAnd but trifle away their time,And still unwilling to come to itIn foolish whining spend their time;But when they once have found the way,Then they are for it night and day.
FromHarl. MS.7332. fol. 242.OHOW oftentimes have IJoyfullyUnder green trees in the shadeMy seat made,Dainty birds for to hear singAnd the woods with music ring.But the case is altered quite:My delightIs to hear my mistress dearSinging clear;That music's sweet harmonyMakes with joy my heart to die.O how oftentimes have IJoyfullySeen so many pleasant flowersAfter showersBlushingly to show their pride,As if still they should abide.But the case is altered quite:My delightIs to see how prettily,When that IHave stol'n a kiss, she will blushAnd in jest me from her push.Adieu, then, without delay,I do say,Old delights, unpleasant toys;For no joysYe now have which me do pleaseOr can comfort or can ease.But pray come without delay,I do say,My new delight, most pleasant joy,And no toy;It is you which me do please,And can comfort and can ease.
FromHarl. MS.7332. fol. 242.
OHOW oftentimes have IJoyfullyUnder green trees in the shadeMy seat made,Dainty birds for to hear singAnd the woods with music ring.But the case is altered quite:My delightIs to hear my mistress dearSinging clear;That music's sweet harmonyMakes with joy my heart to die.O how oftentimes have IJoyfullySeen so many pleasant flowersAfter showersBlushingly to show their pride,As if still they should abide.But the case is altered quite:My delightIs to see how prettily,When that IHave stol'n a kiss, she will blushAnd in jest me from her push.Adieu, then, without delay,I do say,Old delights, unpleasant toys;For no joysYe now have which me do pleaseOr can comfort or can ease.But pray come without delay,I do say,My new delight, most pleasant joy,And no toy;It is you which me do please,And can comfort and can ease.
OHOW oftentimes have IJoyfullyUnder green trees in the shadeMy seat made,Dainty birds for to hear singAnd the woods with music ring.
But the case is altered quite:My delightIs to hear my mistress dearSinging clear;That music's sweet harmonyMakes with joy my heart to die.
O how oftentimes have IJoyfullySeen so many pleasant flowersAfter showersBlushingly to show their pride,As if still they should abide.
But the case is altered quite:My delightIs to see how prettily,When that IHave stol'n a kiss, she will blushAnd in jest me from her push.
Adieu, then, without delay,I do say,Old delights, unpleasant toys;For no joysYe now have which me do pleaseOr can comfort or can ease.
But pray come without delay,I do say,My new delight, most pleasant joy,And no toy;It is you which me do please,And can comfort and can ease.
FromWit Restored, 1658.To B. R. for her Bracelets.'TIS not, dear Love, that amber twist,Which circles round thy captive wrist,Can have the power to make me moreYour prisoner than I was before;Though I that bracelet dearer holdThan misers would a chain of gold.Yet this but ties my outward part:Heart-strings alone can tie my heart.'Tis not that soft and silken wreath,Your hands did unto mine bequeath,Can bind with half so powerful charmsAs the embraces of your arms;Although not iron bands, my fair,Can bind more fiercely than your hair.Yet that will chain me most will beYour heart in True Love's-knot to me.'Tis not those beams, your hairs, nor allYour glorious outside doth me thrall;Although your looks have force enow[73]To make the stateliest tyrants bow,Nor any angel could denyYour person his idolatry.Yet I do not so much adoreThe temple, but the goddess more.If then my soul you would confineTo prison, tie your heart to mine;Your noble virtues, constant love,The only pow'rful chains will proveTo bind me ever; such as thoseThe bands of death shall ne'er unloose,Until I such a prisoner beNo liberty can make me free.
FromWit Restored, 1658.
To B. R. for her Bracelets.
'TIS not, dear Love, that amber twist,Which circles round thy captive wrist,Can have the power to make me moreYour prisoner than I was before;Though I that bracelet dearer holdThan misers would a chain of gold.Yet this but ties my outward part:Heart-strings alone can tie my heart.'Tis not that soft and silken wreath,Your hands did unto mine bequeath,Can bind with half so powerful charmsAs the embraces of your arms;Although not iron bands, my fair,Can bind more fiercely than your hair.Yet that will chain me most will beYour heart in True Love's-knot to me.'Tis not those beams, your hairs, nor allYour glorious outside doth me thrall;Although your looks have force enow[73]To make the stateliest tyrants bow,Nor any angel could denyYour person his idolatry.Yet I do not so much adoreThe temple, but the goddess more.If then my soul you would confineTo prison, tie your heart to mine;Your noble virtues, constant love,The only pow'rful chains will proveTo bind me ever; such as thoseThe bands of death shall ne'er unloose,Until I such a prisoner beNo liberty can make me free.
'TIS not, dear Love, that amber twist,Which circles round thy captive wrist,Can have the power to make me moreYour prisoner than I was before;Though I that bracelet dearer holdThan misers would a chain of gold.Yet this but ties my outward part:Heart-strings alone can tie my heart.
'Tis not that soft and silken wreath,Your hands did unto mine bequeath,Can bind with half so powerful charmsAs the embraces of your arms;Although not iron bands, my fair,Can bind more fiercely than your hair.Yet that will chain me most will beYour heart in True Love's-knot to me.
'Tis not those beams, your hairs, nor allYour glorious outside doth me thrall;Although your looks have force enow[73]To make the stateliest tyrants bow,Nor any angel could denyYour person his idolatry.Yet I do not so much adoreThe temple, but the goddess more.
If then my soul you would confineTo prison, tie your heart to mine;Your noble virtues, constant love,The only pow'rful chains will proveTo bind me ever; such as thoseThe bands of death shall ne'er unloose,Until I such a prisoner beNo liberty can make me free.
BySir Edward Sherburne.Ice and Fire.NAKED love did to thine eye,Fairest, once to warm him fly;But its purer flame and lightScorch'd his wings and spoil'd his sight.Forced from thence, he went to restIn the soft couch of thy breast;But there met a frost so greatAs his torch extinguish'd straight!When poor Cupid, being constrain'dHis cold bed to leave, complain'd,"What a lodging's here for me,If all ice and fire she be!"
BySir Edward Sherburne.
Ice and Fire.
NAKED love did to thine eye,Fairest, once to warm him fly;But its purer flame and lightScorch'd his wings and spoil'd his sight.Forced from thence, he went to restIn the soft couch of thy breast;But there met a frost so greatAs his torch extinguish'd straight!When poor Cupid, being constrain'dHis cold bed to leave, complain'd,"What a lodging's here for me,If all ice and fire she be!"
NAKED love did to thine eye,Fairest, once to warm him fly;But its purer flame and lightScorch'd his wings and spoil'd his sight.
Forced from thence, he went to restIn the soft couch of thy breast;But there met a frost so greatAs his torch extinguish'd straight!
When poor Cupid, being constrain'dHis cold bed to leave, complain'd,"What a lodging's here for me,If all ice and fire she be!"
FromWit's Recreations, 1663.On the Eyes and Breasts of the Lady on whom he was Enamoured.LADY, on your eyes I gazed;When amazedAt their brightness,On your breasts I cast a look,No less tookWith their whiteness:Both I justly did admire,These all snow and those all fire.Whilst these wonders I survey'd,Thus I saidIn suspense:Nature could have done no less,To expressHer providence,Than that two such fair worlds mightHave two suns to give them light.
FromWit's Recreations, 1663.
On the Eyes and Breasts of the Lady on whom he was Enamoured.
LADY, on your eyes I gazed;When amazedAt their brightness,On your breasts I cast a look,No less tookWith their whiteness:Both I justly did admire,These all snow and those all fire.Whilst these wonders I survey'd,Thus I saidIn suspense:Nature could have done no less,To expressHer providence,Than that two such fair worlds mightHave two suns to give them light.
LADY, on your eyes I gazed;When amazedAt their brightness,On your breasts I cast a look,No less tookWith their whiteness:Both I justly did admire,These all snow and those all fire.
Whilst these wonders I survey'd,Thus I saidIn suspense:Nature could have done no less,To expressHer providence,Than that two such fair worlds mightHave two suns to give them light.
FromTixall Poetry,[74]1813.A Song[75]for Drinking.WOULD you be a man of fashion?Would you lead a life divine?Take a little dram of passionIn a lusty dose of wine.If the nymph have no compassion,Vain it is to sigh and groan:Love was but put in for fashion,Wine will do the work alone.
FromTixall Poetry,[74]1813.
A Song[75]for Drinking.
WOULD you be a man of fashion?Would you lead a life divine?Take a little dram of passionIn a lusty dose of wine.If the nymph have no compassion,Vain it is to sigh and groan:Love was but put in for fashion,Wine will do the work alone.
WOULD you be a man of fashion?Would you lead a life divine?Take a little dram of passionIn a lusty dose of wine.
If the nymph have no compassion,Vain it is to sigh and groan:Love was but put in for fashion,Wine will do the work alone.
A Song for Love.WOULD you know earth's highest pleasure?Would you rival gods above?Drink rich wines, but drink with measure,But fear no excess in love.Or if wine you quite give over,You will nothing lose thereby;All is rapture to a lover,So in love he live or die.
A Song for Love.
WOULD you know earth's highest pleasure?Would you rival gods above?Drink rich wines, but drink with measure,But fear no excess in love.Or if wine you quite give over,You will nothing lose thereby;All is rapture to a lover,So in love he live or die.
WOULD you know earth's highest pleasure?Would you rival gods above?Drink rich wines, but drink with measure,But fear no excess in love.
Or if wine you quite give over,You will nothing lose thereby;All is rapture to a lover,So in love he live or die.
FromWit at a Venture: or Clio's Privy Garden, 1674.[76]Epithalamium.TO bed ye two in one united go,To pleasures killing;Embrace and struggle till your spirits flow,Embrace more willingThan th' loving palms (great union's wonder),That ne'er bore any fruit asunder.Be young to each when winter and grey hairsYour head shall climb;May your affections like the merry spheresStill move in time,And may (with many a good presage)Your marriage prove your merry age.
FromWit at a Venture: or Clio's Privy Garden, 1674.[76]
Epithalamium.
TO bed ye two in one united go,To pleasures killing;Embrace and struggle till your spirits flow,Embrace more willingThan th' loving palms (great union's wonder),That ne'er bore any fruit asunder.Be young to each when winter and grey hairsYour head shall climb;May your affections like the merry spheresStill move in time,And may (with many a good presage)Your marriage prove your merry age.
TO bed ye two in one united go,To pleasures killing;Embrace and struggle till your spirits flow,Embrace more willingThan th' loving palms (great union's wonder),That ne'er bore any fruit asunder.
Be young to each when winter and grey hairsYour head shall climb;May your affections like the merry spheresStill move in time,And may (with many a good presage)Your marriage prove your merry age.
FromRawlinson MS. Poet.199.To his Mistress feigning to conceal Love.DO not rack my bleeding heart;Fling away, or show thy dart;Delay is a worse painThan proud disdain.Do not starve my ling'ring soul,That still waits till thou control;And either send home mineOr give me thine.Dost thou love me as thine own?O then smile and do not frown:Love soured with debateIs worse than hate.Dost thou hate me as too vile?O then frown and do not smile:Hate sweetened so will proveWorse than love.Sourest friend and sweetest foe,Do not love and hate me too:O 'tis a double illTo wound and kill!Quickly, quickly, speak my fate:Dost thou love or dost thou hate?Lest I too soon removeAnd hate thy love.He. Ramsay.
FromRawlinson MS. Poet.199.
To his Mistress feigning to conceal Love.
DO not rack my bleeding heart;Fling away, or show thy dart;Delay is a worse painThan proud disdain.Do not starve my ling'ring soul,That still waits till thou control;And either send home mineOr give me thine.Dost thou love me as thine own?O then smile and do not frown:Love soured with debateIs worse than hate.Dost thou hate me as too vile?O then frown and do not smile:Hate sweetened so will proveWorse than love.Sourest friend and sweetest foe,Do not love and hate me too:O 'tis a double illTo wound and kill!Quickly, quickly, speak my fate:Dost thou love or dost thou hate?Lest I too soon removeAnd hate thy love.He. Ramsay.
DO not rack my bleeding heart;Fling away, or show thy dart;Delay is a worse painThan proud disdain.
Do not starve my ling'ring soul,That still waits till thou control;And either send home mineOr give me thine.
Dost thou love me as thine own?O then smile and do not frown:Love soured with debateIs worse than hate.
Dost thou hate me as too vile?O then frown and do not smile:Hate sweetened so will proveWorse than love.
Sourest friend and sweetest foe,Do not love and hate me too:O 'tis a double illTo wound and kill!
Quickly, quickly, speak my fate:Dost thou love or dost thou hate?Lest I too soon removeAnd hate thy love.He. Ramsay.
He. Ramsay.
FromRawlinson MS. Poet.199.A Song.SIGHS, blow out those flames in me,Or else allay them, ye cold fears,Till so their heat chastised be;And then I'll quench them with my tears.But oh! my tears but oil will proveTo feed the flame of my desire:My fears they stir the coals of love,My sighs like bellows blow the fire.But surely I'll not fail of this:I'll sigh away my soul in air,Leaving my body cold as isHer love to me or my despair.W. R.
FromRawlinson MS. Poet.199.
A Song.
SIGHS, blow out those flames in me,Or else allay them, ye cold fears,Till so their heat chastised be;And then I'll quench them with my tears.But oh! my tears but oil will proveTo feed the flame of my desire:My fears they stir the coals of love,My sighs like bellows blow the fire.But surely I'll not fail of this:I'll sigh away my soul in air,Leaving my body cold as isHer love to me or my despair.W. R.
SIGHS, blow out those flames in me,Or else allay them, ye cold fears,Till so their heat chastised be;And then I'll quench them with my tears.
But oh! my tears but oil will proveTo feed the flame of my desire:My fears they stir the coals of love,My sighs like bellows blow the fire.
But surely I'll not fail of this:I'll sigh away my soul in air,Leaving my body cold as isHer love to me or my despair.W. R.
W. R.