The Hesperides & Noble Numbers

Hesperides

569. A Hymn to the Graces

When I love (as some have told,
Love I shall when I am old),
O ye Graces! make me fit
For the welcoming of it.
Clean my rooms, as temples be,
T’ entertain that deity.
Give me words wherewith to woo,
Suppling and successful too;
Winning postures, and, withal,
Manners each way musical:
Sweetness to allay my sour
And unsmooth behaviour.
For I know you have the skill
Vines to prune, though not to kill,
And of any wood ye see,
You can make a Mercury.

Suppling, softening.
Mercury, god of eloquence and inventor of the lyre.

570. To Silvia

No more, my Silvia, do I mean to pray
For those good days that ne’er will come away.
I want belief; O gentle Silvia, be
The patient saint, and send up vows for me.

573. The Poet Hath Lost His Pipe

I cannot pipe as I was wont to do,
Broke is my reed, hoarse is my singing, too;
My wearied oat I’ll hang upon the tree,
And give it to the sylvan deity.

574. True Friendship

Wilt thou my true friend be?
Then love not mine, but me.

575. The Apparition of His Mistress Calling — Him to Elysium

Desunt nonnulla ——

Come then, and like two doves with silv’ry wings,
Let our souls fly to th’ shades where ever springs
Sit smiling in the meads; where balm and oil,
Roses and cassia crown the untill’d soil.
Where no disease reigns, or infection comes
To blast the air, but ambergris and gums
This, that, and ev’ry thicket doth transpire,
More sweet than storax from the hallowed fire,
Where ev’ry tree a wealthy issue bears
Of fragrant apples, blushing plums, or pears;
And all the shrubs, with sparkling spangles, shew
Like morning sunshine tinselling the dew.
Here in green meadows sits eternal May,
Purfling the margents, while perpetual day
So double gilds the air, as that no night
Can ever rust th’ enamel of the light.
Here, naked younglings, handsome striplings, run
Their goals for virgins’ kisses; which when done,
Then unto dancing forth the learned round
Commixed they meet, with endless roses crown’d.
And here we’ll sit on primrose-banks, and see
Love’s chorus led by Cupid; and we’ll be
Two loving followers, too, unto the grove
Where poets sing the stories of our love.
There thou shalt hear divine Musæus sing
Of Hero and Leander; then I’ll bring
Thee to the stand, where honour’d Homer reads
His Odysseys and his high Iliads;
About whose throne the crowd of poets throng
To hear the incantation of his tongue:
To Linus, then to Pindar; and that done,
I’ll bring thee, Herrick, to Anacreon,
Quaffing his full-crown’d bowls of burning wine,
And in his raptures speaking lines of thine,
Like to his subject; and as his frantic
Looks show him truly Bacchanalian-like
Besmear’d with grapes, welcome he shall thee thither,
Where both may rage, both drink and dance together.
Then stately Virgil, witty Ovid, by
Whom fair Corinna sits, and doth comply
With ivory wrists his laureate head, and steeps
His eye in dew of kisses while he sleeps;
Then soft Catullus, sharp-fang’d Martial,
And towering Lucan, Horace, Juvenal,
And snaky Persius, these, and those, whom rage
(Dropt for the jars of heaven) fill’d t’ engage
All times unto their frenzies,—thou shalt there
Behold them in a spacious theatre.
Among which glories, crowned with sacred bays
And flatt’ring ivy, two recite their plays—
Beaumont and Fletcher, swans to whom all ears
Listen, while they, like syrens in their spheres,
Sing their Evadne; and still more for thee
There yet remains to know than thou can’st see
By glim’ring of a fancy. Do but come,
And there I’ll show thee that capacious room
In which thy father Jonson now is plac’d,
As in a globe of radiant fire, and grac’d
To be in that orb crown’d, that doth include
Those prophets of the former magnitude,
And he one chief; but hark, I hear the cock
(The bellman of the night) proclaim the clock
Of late struck one, and now I see the prime
Of day break from the pregnant east: ’tis time
I vanish; more I had to say,
But night determines here, away.

Purfling, trimming, embroidering.
Round, rustic dance.
Comply, encircle.
Their Evadne, the sister of Melantius in their play “The Maid’s Tragedy”.

576. Life Is the Body’s Light

Life is the body’s light, which once declining,
Those crimson clouds i’ th’ cheek and lips leave shining.
Those counter-changed tabbies in the air
(The sun once set) all of one colour are.
So, when Death comes, fresh tinctures lose their place,
And dismal darkness then doth smutch the face.

Tabbies, shot silks.

579. Love Lightly Pleased

Let fair or foul my mistress be,
Or low, or tall, she pleaseth me;
Or let her walk, or stand, or sit,
The posture hers, I’m pleas’d with it;
Or let her tongue be still, or stir,
Graceful is every thing from her;
Or let her grant, or else deny,
My love will fit each history.

580. The Primrose

  Ask me why I send you here
This sweet Infanta of the year?
  Ask me why I send to you
This primrose, thus bepearl’d with dew?
  I will whisper to your ears:
The sweets of love are mix’d with tears.

  Ask me why this flower does show
So yellow-green, and sickly too?
  Ask me why the stalk is weak
And bending (yet it doth not break)?
  I will answer: These discover
What fainting hopes are in a lover.

581. The Tithe. To the Bride

If nine times you your bridegroom kiss,
The tenth you know the parson’s is.
Pay then your tithe, and doing thus,
Prove in your bride-bed numerous.
If children you have ten, Sir John
Won’t for his tenth part ask you one.

Sir John, the parson.

582. A Frolic

Bring me my rosebuds, drawer, come;
  So, while I thus sit crown’d,
I’ll drink the aged Cæcubum,
  Until the roof turn round.

Drawer, waiter.
Cæcubum, Cæcuban, an old Roman wine.

583. Change Common to All

All things subjected are to fate;
Whom this morn sees most fortunate,
The evening sees in poor estate.

584. To Julia

The saints’-bell calls, and, Julia, I must read
The proper lessons for the saints now dead:
To grace which service, Julia, there shall be
One holy collect said or sung for thee.
Dead when thou art, dear Julia, thou shalt have
A trentall sung by virgins o’er thy grave:
Meantime we two will sing the dirge of these,
Who dead, deserve our best remembrances.

Trentall, a service for the dead.

585. No Luck in Love

I do love I know not what,
Sometimes this and sometimes that;
All conditions I aim at.

But, as luckless, I have yet
Many shrewd disasters met
To gain her whom I would get.

Therefore now I’ll love no more
As I’ve doted heretofore:
He who must be, shall be poor.

586. In the Dark None Dainty

Night hides our thefts, all faults then pardon’d be;
All are alike fair when no spots we see.
Lais and Lucrece in the night-time are
Pleasing alike, alike both singular:
Joan and my lady have at that time one,
One and the self-same priz’d complexion:
Then please alike the pewter and the plate,
The chosen ruby, and the reprobate.

Lais and Lucrece, opposite types of incontinence and purity. Cp. 665, 885.

587. A Charm, or an Allay for Love

If so be a toad be laid
In a sheep’s-skin newly flay’d,
And that tied to man, ’twill sever
Him and his affections ever.

590. To His Brother-in-Law, Master John Wingfield

For being comely, consonant, and free
To most of men, but most of all to me;
For so decreeing that thy clothes’ expense
Keeps still within a just circumference;
Then for contriving so to load thy board
As that the messes ne’er o’erlade the lord;
Next for ordaining that thy words not swell
To any one unsober syllable:
These I could praise thee for beyond another,
Wert thou a Winstfield only, not a brother.

Consonant, harmonious.

591. The Headache

My head doth ache,
O Sappho! take
  Thy fillet,
And bind the pain,
Or bring some bane
  To kill it.

But less that part
Than my poor heart
  Now is sick;
One kiss from thee
Will counsel be
  And physic.

592. On Himself

Live by thy muse thou shalt, when others die
Leaving no fame to long posterity:
When monarchies trans-shifted are, and gone,
Here shall endure thy vast dominion.

593. Upon a Maid

Hence a blessed soul is fled,
Leaving here the body dead;
Which since here they can’t combine,
For the saint we’ll keep the shrine.

596. Upon the Troublesome Times

  O times most bad,
  Without the scope
    Of hope
Of better to be had!

  Where shall I go,
  Or whither run
    To shun
This public overthrow?

  No places are,
  This I am sure,
    Secure
In this our wasting war.

  Some storms we’ve past,
  Yet we must all
    Down fall,
And perish at the last.

597. Cruelty Base in Commanders

Nothing can be more loathsome than to see
Power conjoin’d with Nature’s cruelty.

599. Upon Lucia

I ask’d my Lucia but a kiss,
And she with scorn denied me this;
Say then, how ill should I have sped,
Had I then ask’d her maidenhead?

600. Little and Loud

Little you are, for woman’s sake be proud;
For my sake next, though little, be not loud.

601. Shipwreck

He who has suffered shipwreck fears to sail
Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.

602. Pains Without Profit

A long life’s-day I’ve taken pains
For very little, or no gains;
The evening’s come, here now I’ll stop,
And work no more, but shut up shop.

603. To His Book

Be bold, my book, nor be abash’d, or fear
The cutting thumb-nail or the brow severe;
But by the Muses swear all here is good
If but well read, or, ill read, understood.

604. His Prayer to Ben Jonson

When I a verse shall make,
Know I have pray’d thee,
For old religion’s sake,
Saint Ben, to aid me.

Make the way smooth for me,
When I, thy Herrick,
Honouring thee, on my knee
Offer my lyric.

Candles I’ll give to thee,
And a new altar,
And thou, Saint Ben, shall be
Writ in my Psalter.

605. Poverty and Riches

Give Want her welcome if she comes; we find
Riches to be but burdens to the mind.

606. Again

Who with a little cannot be content,
Endures an everlasting punishment.

607. The Covetous Still Captives

Let’s live with that small pittance that we have;
Who covets more, is evermore a slave.

608. Laws

When laws full power have to sway, we see
Little or no part there of tyranny.

609. Of Love

  I’ll get me hence,
  Because no fence
Or fort that I can make here,
  But love by charms,
  Or else by arms
Will storm, or starving take here.

611. To His Muse

Go woo young Charles no more to look
Than but to read this in my book:
How Herrick begs, if that he can-
Not like the muse, to love the man,
Who by the shepherds sung, long since,
The star-led birth of Charles the Prince.

Long since, i.e., in the “Pastoral upon the Birth of Prince Charles” (213), where see Note.

612. The Bad Season Makes the Poet Sad

Dull to myself, and almost dead to these
My many fresh and fragrant mistresses;
Lost to all music now, since everything
Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing.
Sick is the land to the heart, and doth endure
More dangerous faintings by her desp’rate cure.
But if that golden age would come again,
And Charles here rule, as he before did reign;
If smooth and unperplexed the seasons were,
As when the sweet Maria lived here:
I should delight to have my curls half drown’d
In Tyrian dews, and head with roses crown’d;
And once more yet, ere I am laid out dead,
Knock at a star with my exalted head.

Knock at a star (sublimi feriam sidera vertice). Horace Ode, i. 1.

613. To Vulcan

Thy sooty godhead I desire
Still to be ready with thy fire;
That should my book despised be,
Acceptance it might find of thee.

614. Like Pattern, Like People

This is the height of justice: that to do
Thyself which thou put’st other men unto.
As great men lead, the meaner follow on,
Or to the good, or evil action.

615. Purposes

No wrath of men or rage of seas
Can shake a just man’s purposes:
No threats of tyrants or the grim
Visage of them can alter him;
But what he doth at first intend,
That he holds firmly to the end.

616. To the Maids to Walk Abroad

Come, sit we under yonder tree,
Where merry as the maids we’ll be;
And as on primroses we sit,
We’ll venture, if we can, at wit:
If not, at draw-gloves we will play;
So spend some minutes of the day:
Or else spin out the thread of sands,
Playing at Questions and Commands:
Or tell what strange tricks love can do,
By quickly making one of two.
Thus we will sit and talk, but tell
No cruel truths of Philomel,
Or Phyllis, whom hard fate forc’d on
To kill herself for Demophon.
But fables we’ll relate: how Jove
Put on all shapes to get a love;
As now a satyr, then a swan;
A bull but then, and now a man.
Next we will act how young men woo,
And sigh, and kiss as lovers do;
And talk of brides, and who shall make
That wedding-smock, this bridal cake,
That dress, this sprig, that leaf, this vine,
That smooth and silken columbine.
This done, we’ll draw lots who shall buy
And gild the bays and rosemary;
What posies for our wedding rings;
What gloves we’ll give and ribandings:
And smiling at ourselves, decree,
Who then the joining priest shall be.
What short, sweet prayers shall be said;
And how the posset shall be made
With cream of lilies, not of kine,
And maiden’s-blush, for spiced wine.
Thus, having talked, we’ll next commend
A kiss to each, and so we’ll end.

Draw-gloves, talking on the fingers.
Philomela, daughter of Pandion, changed into a nightingale.
Phyllis, the S. Phyllis of a former lyric (To Groves).
Gild the bays, see Note to 479.

617. His Own Epitaph

As wearied pilgrims, once possest
Of long’d-for lodging, go to rest,
So I, now having rid my way,
Fix here my button’d staff and stay.
Youth, I confess, hath me misled;
But age hath brought me right to bed.

Button’d, knobbed.

618. A Nuptial Verse to Mistress Elizabeth Lee, Now Lady Tracy

Spring with the lark, most comely bride, and meet
Your eager bridegroom with auspicious feet.
The morn’s far spent, and the immortal sun
Corals his cheek to see those rites not done.
Fie, lovely maid! indeed you are too slow,
When to the temple Love should run, not go.
Dispatch your dressing then, and quickly wed;
Then feast, and coy’t a little, then to bed.
This day is Love’s day, and this busy night
Is yours, in which you challenged are to fight
With such an arm’d, but such an easy foe,
As will, if you yield, lie down conquer’d too.
The field is pitch’d, but such must be your wars,
As that your kisses must outvie the stars.
Fall down together vanquished both, and lie
Drown’d in the blood of rubies there, not die.

Corals, reddens.

619. The Night-Piece, to Julia

Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee;
  And the elves also,
  Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

No Will-o’-th’-Wisp mislight thee,
Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
  But on, on thy way
  Not making a stay,
Since ghost there’s none to affright thee.

Let not the dark thee cumber:
What though the moon does slumber?
  The stars of the night
  Will lend thee their light
Like tapers clear without number.

Then, Julia, let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto me;
  And when I shall meet
  Thy silv’ry feet
My soul I’ll pour into thee.

620. To Sir Clipseby Crew

Give me wine, and give me meat,
To create in me a heat,
That my pulses high may beat.

Cold and hunger never yet
Could a noble verse beget;
But your bowls with sack replete.

Give me these, my knight, and try
In a minute’s space how I
Can run mad and prophesy.

Then, if any piece prove new
And rare, I’ll say, my dearest Crew,
It was full inspired by you.

621. Good Luck Not Lasting

If well the dice run, let’s applaud the cast:
The happy fortune will not always last.

622. A Kiss

What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve:
The sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.

623. Glory

I make no haste to have my numbers read:
Seldom comes glory till a man be dead.

624. Poets

Wantons we are, and though our words be such,
Our lives do differ from our lines by much.

625. No Despite to the Dead

Reproach we may the living, not the dead:
’Tis cowardice to bite the buried.

626. To His Verses

What will ye, my poor orphans, do
When I must leave the world and you?
Who’ll give ye then a sheltering shed,
Or credit ye when I am dead?
Who’ll let ye by their fire sit,
Although ye have a stock of wit
Already coin’d to pay for it?
I cannot tell, unless there be
Some race of old humanity
Left, of the large heart and long hand,
Alive, as noble Westmorland,
Or gallant Newark, which brave two
May fost’ring fathers be to you.
If not, expect to be no less
Ill us’d, than babes left fatherless.

Westmorland, Newark, see Notes.

627. His Charge to Julia at His Death

Dearest of thousands, now the time draws near
That with my lines my life must full-stop here.
Cut off thy hairs, and let thy tears be shed
Over my turf when I am buried.
Then for effusions, let none wanting be,
Or other rites that do belong to me;
As love shall help thee, when thou dost go hence
Unto thy everlasting residence.

Effusions, the “due drink-offerings” of the lyric “To his lovely mistresses” (634).

628. Upon Love

  In a dream, Love bade me go
  To the galleys there to row;
  In the vision I ask’d why?
  Love as briefly did reply,
’Twas better there to toil, than prove
The turmoils they endure that love.
  I awoke, and then I knew
  What Love said was too-too true;
  Henceforth therefore I will be,
  As from love, from trouble free.
None pities him that’s in the snare,
And, warned before, would not beware.

629. The Cobblers’ Catch

Come sit we by the fire’s side,
  And roundly drink we here;
Till that we see our cheeks ale-dy’d
  And noses tann’d with beer.

633. Connubii Flores, or the Well-Wishes at Weddings

Chorus Sacerdotum. From the temple to your home
    May a thousand blessings come!
    And a sweet concurring stream
    Of all joys to join with them.

Chorus Juvenum. Happy Day,
      Make no long stay
          Here
        In thy sphere;
    But give thy place to Night,
          That she,
          As thee,
          May be
    Partaker of this sight.
    And since it was thy care
    To see the younglings wed,
    ’Tis fit that Night the pair
    Should see safe brought to bed.

Chorus Senum. Go to your banquet then, but use delight,
  So as to rise still with an appetite.
  Love is a thing most nice, and must be fed
  To such a height, but never surfeited.
  What is beyond the mean is ever ill:
  ’Tis best to feed Love, but not overfill;
  Go then discreetly to the bed of pleasure,
  And this remember, virtue keeps the measure.

Chorus Virginum. Lucky signs we have descri’d
     To encourage on the bride,
     And to these we have espi’d,
     Not a kissing Cupid flies
     Here about, but has his eyes
     To imply your love is wise.

Chorus Pastorum. Here we present a fleece
     To make a piece
       Of cloth;
    Nor, fair, must you be both
     Your finger to apply
       To housewifery.
       Then, then begin
        To spin:
And, sweetling, mark you, what a web will come
Into your chests, drawn by your painful thumb.

Chorus Matronarum. Set you to your wheel, and wax
     Rich by the ductile wool and flax.
  Yarn is an income, and the housewives’ thread
  The larder fills with meat, the bin with bread.

Chorus Senum. Let wealth come in by comely thrift
    And not by any sordid shift;
        ’Tis haste
        Makes waste:
      Extremes have still their fault:
The softest fire makes the sweetest malt:
Who grips too hard the dry and slippery sand
Holds none at all, or little in his hand.

Chorus Virginum. Goddess of pleasure, youth and peace,
   Give them the blessing of increase:
   And thou, Lucina, that dost hear
   The vows of those that children bear:
   Whenas her April hour draws near,
   Be thou then propitious there.

Chorus Juvenum. Far hence be all speech that may anger move:
  Sweet words must nourish soft and gentle love.

Chorus Omnium. Live in the love of doves, and having told
  The raven’s years, go hence more ripe than old.

Nice, dainty.
Painful, painstaking; for the passage cp. Catull. Nupt. Pel. et Thet. 311-314.

634. To His Lovely Mistresses

One night i’ th’ year, my dearest beauties, come
And bring those due drink-offerings to my tomb.
When thence ye see my reverend ghost to rise,
And there to lick th’ effused sacrifice:
Though paleness be the livery that I wear,
Look ye not wan or colourless for fear.
Trust me, I will not hurt ye, or once show
The least grim look, or cast a frown on you:
Nor shall the tapers when I’m there burn blue.
This I may do, perhaps, as I glide by,
Cast on my girls a glance and loving eye,
Or fold mine arms and sigh, because I’ve lost
The world so soon, and in it you the most.
Than these, no fears more on your fancies fall,
Though then I smile and speak no words at all.

Fold mine arms, cp. “crossing his arms in this sad knot” (Tempest).

635. Upon Love

A crystal vial Cupid brought,
  Which had a juice in it;
Of which who drank, he said no thought
  Of love he should admit.

I, greedy of the prize, did drink,
  And emptied soon the glass;
Which burnt me so, that I do think
  The fire of hell it was.

Give me my earthen cups again,
  The crystal I contemn;
Which, though enchas’d with pearls, contain
  A deadly draught in them.

And thou, O Cupid! come not to
  My threshold, since I see,
For all I have, or else can do,
  Thou still wilt cozen me.

638. The Beggar to Mab, the Fairy Queen

Please your Grace, from out your store,
Give an alms to one that’s poor,
That your mickle may have more.
Black I’m grown for want of meat
Give me then an ant to eat,
Or the cleft ear of a mouse
Over-sour’d in drink of souce;
Or, sweet lady, reach to me
The abdomen of a bee;
Or commend a cricket’s hip,
Or his huckson, to my scrip.
Give for bread a little bit
Of a pea that ‘gins to chit,
And my full thanks take for it.
Flour of fuzz-balls, that’s too good
For a man in needihood;
But the meal of milldust can
Well content a craving man.
Any orts the elves refuse
Well will serve the beggar’s use.
But if this may seem too much
For an alms, then give me such
Little bits that nestle there
In the prisoner’s panier.
So a blessing light upon
You and mighty Oberon:
That your plenty last till when
I return your alms again.

Mickle, much.
Souce, salt-pickle.
Huckson, huckle-bone.
Chit, sprout.
Orts, scraps of food.
Prisoner’s panier, the basket which poor prisoners used to hang out of the gaol windows for alms in money or kind.

639. An End Decreed

Let’s be jocund while we may,
All things have an ending day;
And when once the work is done,
Fates revolve no flax they’ve spun.

Revolve, i.e., bring back.

640. Upon a Child

Here a pretty baby lies
Sung asleep with lullabies;
Pray be silent, and not stir
Th’ easy earth that covers her.

641. Painting Sometimes Permitted

If Nature do deny
Colours, let Art supply.

642. Farewell Frost, or Welcome the Spring

Fled are the frosts, and now the fields appear
Re-cloth’d in fresh and verdant diaper.
Thaw’d are the snows, and now the lusty spring
Gives to each mead a neat enamelling.
The palms put forth their gems, and every tree
Now swaggers in her leafy gallantry.
The while the Daulian minstrel sweetly sings,
With warbling notes, her Terean sufferings.
What gentle winds perspire! As if here
Never had been the northern plunderer
To strip the trees and fields, to their distress,
Leaving them to a pitied nakedness.
And look how when a frantic storm doth tear
A stubborn oak, or holm, long growing there,
But lull’d to calmness, then succeeds a breeze
That scarcely stirs the nodding leaves of trees:
So when this war, which tempest-like doth spoil
Our salt, our corn, our honey, wine and oil,
Falls to a temper, and doth mildly cast
His inconsiderate frenzy off, at last,
The gentle dove may, when these turmoils cease,
Bring in her bill, once more, the branch of peace.

Gems, buds.
Daulian minstrel, the nightingale Philomela.
Terean sufferings, i.e., at the hands of Tereus.

643. The Hag

  The hag is astride
  This night for to ride,
The devil and she together;
  Through thick and through thin,
  Now out and then in,
Though ne’er so foul be the weather.

  A thorn or a burr
  She takes for a spur,
With a lash of a bramble she rides now;
  Through brakes and through briars,
  O’er ditches and mires,
She follows the spirit that guides now.

  No beast for his food
  Dare now range the wood,
But hush’d in his lair he lies lurking;
  While mischiefs, by these,
  On land and on seas,
At noon of night are a-working.

  The storm will arise
  And trouble the skies;
This night, and more for the wonder,
  The ghost from the tomb
  Affrighted shall come,
Call’d out by the clap of the thunder.

644. Upon an Old Man: A Residentiary

Tread, sirs, as lightly as ye can
Upon the grave of this old man.
Twice forty, bating but one year
And thrice three weeks, he lived here.
Whom gentle fate translated hence
To a more happy residence.
Yet, reader, let me tell thee this,
Which from his ghost a promise is,
If here ye will some few tears shed,
He’ll never haunt ye now he’s dead.

Residentiary, old inhabitant.

645. Upon Tears

Tears, though they’re here below the sinner’s brine,
Above they are the angels’ spiced wine.

646. Physicians

Physicians fight not against men; but these
Combat for men by conquering the disease.

647. The Primitiæ to Parents

Our household-gods our parents be;
And manners good require that we
The first fruits give to them, who gave
Us hands to get what here we have.

649. Upon Lucy. Epig

Sound teeth has Lucy, pure as pearl, and small,
With mellow lips, and luscious therewithal.

651. To Silvia

I am holy while I stand
Circum-crost by thy pure hand;
But when that is gone, again
I, as others, am profane.

Circum-crost, marked round with a cross.

652. To His Closet-Gods

When I go hence, ye Closet-Gods, I fear
Never again to have ingression here
Where I have had whatever thing could be
Pleasant and precious to my muse and me.
Besides rare sweets, I had a book which none
Could read the intext but myself alone.
About the cover of this book there went
A curious-comely clean compartlement,
And, in the midst, to grace it more, was set
A blushing, pretty, peeping rubelet.
But now ’tis closed; and being shut and seal’d,
Be it, O be it, never more reveal’d!
Keep here still, Closet-Gods, ’fore whom I’ve set
Oblations oft of sweetest marmelet.

Ingression, entrance.
Intext, contents.

653. A Bacchanalian Verse

Fill me a mighty bowl
  Up to the brim,
  That I may drink
Unto my Jonson’s soul.

Crown it again, again;
  And thrice repeat
  That happy heat,
To drink to thee, my Ben.

Well I can quaff, I see,
  To th’ number five
  Or nine; but thrive
In frenzy ne’er like thee.

To the number five or nine, see Note.

654. Long-Looked-for Comes at Last

Though long it be, years may repay the debt;
None loseth that which he in time may get.

655. To Youth

Drink wine, and live here blitheful, while ye may:
The morrow’s life too late is; live to-day.

656. Never Too Late to Die

No man comes late unto that place from whence
Never man yet had a regredience.

Regredience, return.

657. A Hymn to the Muses

O you the virgins nine!
That do our souls incline
To noble discipline!
Nod to this vow of mine.
Come, then, and now inspire
My viol and my lyre
With your eternal fire,
And make me one entire
Composer in your choir.
Then I’ll your altars strew
With roses sweet and new;
And ever live a true
Acknowledger of you.

658. On Himself

I’ll sing no more, nor will I longer write
Of that sweet lady, or that gallant knight.
I’ll sing no more of frosts, snows, dews and showers;
No more of groves, meads, springs and wreaths of flowers.
I’ll write no more, nor will I tell or sing
Of Cupid and his witty cozening:
I’ll sing no more of death, or shall the grave
No more my dirges and my trentalls have.

Trentalls, service for the dead.

660. To Momus

Who read’st this book that I have writ,
And can’st not mend but carp at it;
By all the Muses! thou shalt be
Anathema to it and me.

661. Ambition

In ways to greatness, think on this,
That slippery all ambition is.

662. The Country Life, to the Honoured M. — End. Porter, Groom of the Bedchamber to His Majesty

Sweet country life, to such unknown
Whose lives are others’, not their own!
But serving courts and cities, be
Less happy, less enjoying thee.
Thou never plough’st the ocean’s foam
To seek and bring rough pepper home;
Nor to the Eastern Ind dost rove
To bring from thence the scorched clove;
Nor, with the loss of thy lov’d rest,
Bring’st home the ingot from the West.
No, thy ambition’s masterpiece
Flies no thought higher than a fleece;
Or how to pay thy hinds, and clear
All scores, and so to end the year:
But walk’st about thine own dear bounds,
Not envying others larger grounds:
For well thou know’st ’tis not th’ extent
Of land makes life, but sweet content.
When now the cock (the ploughman’s horn)
Calls forth the lily-wristed morn,
Then to thy corn-fields thou dost go,
Which though well soil’d, yet thou dost know
That the best compost for the lands
Is the wise master’s feet and hands.
There at the plough thou find’st thy team
With a hind whistling there to them;
And cheer’st them up by singing how
The kingdom’s portion is the plough.
This done, then to th’ enamelled meads
Thou go’st, and as thy foot there treads,
Thou see’st a present God-like power
Imprinted in each herb and flower;
And smell’st the breath of great-ey’d kine,
Sweet as the blossoms of the vine.
Here thou behold’st thy large sleek neat
Unto the dew-laps up in meat;
And, as thou look’st, the wanton steer,
The heifer, cow, and ox draw near
To make a pleasing pastime there.
These seen, thou go’st to view thy flocks
Of sheep, safe from the wolf and fox,
And find’st their bellies there as full
Of short sweet grass as backs with wool,
And leav’st them, as they feed and fill,
A shepherd piping on a hill.
For sports, for pageantry and plays
Thou hast thy eves and holidays;
On which the young men and maids meet
To exercise their dancing feet;
Tripping the comely country round,
With daffodils and daisies crown’d.
Thy wakes, thy quintels here thou hast,
Thy May-poles, too, with garlands grac’d;
Thy morris dance, thy Whitsun ale,
Thy shearing feast which never fail;
Thy harvest-home, thy wassail bowl,
That’s toss’d up after fox i’ th’ hole;
Thy mummeries, thy Twelfth-tide kings
And queens, thy Christmas revellings,
Thy nut-brown mirth, thy russet wit,
And no man pays too dear for it.
To these, thou hast thy times to go
And trace the hare i’ th’ treacherous snow;
Thy witty wiles to draw, and get
The lark into the trammel net;
Thou hast thy cockrood and thy glade
To take the precious pheasant made;
Thy lime-twigs, snares and pit-falls then
To catch the pilfering birds, not men.
O happy life! if that their good
The husbandmen but understood!
Who all the day themselves do please,
And younglings, with such sports as these,
And lying down have nought t’ affright
Sweet sleep, that makes more short the night.

Cætera desunt ——

Soil’d, manured.
Compost, preparation.
Fox i’ th’ hole, a hopping game in which boys beat each other with gloves.
Cockrood, a run for snaring woodcocks.
Glade, an opening in the wood across which nets were hung to catch game. (Willoughby, Ornithologie, i. 3.)

663. To Electra

I dare not ask a kiss,
  I dare not beg a smile,
Lest having that, or this,
  I might grow proud the while.

No, no, the utmost share
  Of my desire shall be
Only to kiss that air
  That lately kissed thee.

664. To His Worthy Friend, M. Arthur Bartly

When after many lusters thou shalt be
Wrapt up in sear-cloth with thine ancestry;
When of thy ragg’d escutcheons shall be seen
So little left, as if they ne’er had been;
Thou shalt thy name have, and thy fame’s best trust,
Here with the generation of my Just.

Luster, a period of five years.

665. What Kind of Mistress He Would Have

Be the mistress of my choice
Clean in manners, clear in voice;
Be she witty more than wise,
Pure enough, though not precise;
Be she showing in her dress
Like a civil wilderness;
That the curious may detect
Order in a sweet neglect;
Be she rolling in her eye,
Tempting all the passers-by;
And each ringlet of her hair
An enchantment, or a snare
For to catch the lookers-on;
But herself held fast by none.
Let her Lucrece all day be,
Thais in the night to me.
Be she such as neither will
Famish me, nor overfill.

667. The Rosemary Branch

Grow for two ends, it matters not at all,
Be ’t for my bridal or my burial.

669. Upon Crab. Epig

Crab faces gowns with sundry furs; ’tis known
He keeps the fox fur for to face his own.

670. A Paranæticall, or Advisive Verse, to His Friend, M. John Wicks

Is this a life, to break thy sleep,
To rise as soon as day doth peep?
To tire thy patient ox or ass
By noon, and let thy good days pass,
Not knowing this, that Jove decrees
Some mirth t’ adulce man’s miseries?
No; ’tis a life to have thine oil
Without extortion from thy soil;
Thy faithful fields to yield thee grain,
Although with some, yet little, pain;
To have thy mind, and nuptial bed,
With fears and cares uncumbered;
A pleasing wife, that by thy side
Lies softly panting like a bride.
This is to live, and to endear
Those minutes Time has lent us here.
Then, while fates suffer, live thou free
As is that air that circles thee,
And crown thy temples too, and let
Thy servant, not thy own self, sweat,
To strut thy barns with sheafs of wheat.
Time steals away like to a stream,
And we glide hence away with them.
No sound recalls the hours once fled,
Or roses, being withered;
Nor us, my friend, when we are lost,
Like to a dew or melted frost.
Then live we mirthful while we should,
And turn the iron age to gold.
Let’s feast, and frolic, sing, and play,
And thus less last than live our day.
Whose life with care is overcast,
That man’s not said to live, but last;
Nor is’t a life, seven years to tell,
But for to live that half seven well;
And that we’ll do, as men who know,
Some few sands spent, we hence must go,
Both to be blended in the urn
From whence there’s never a return.

Adulce, sweeten.
Strut, swell.

671. Once Seen and No More

Thousands each day pass by, which we,
Once past and gone, no more shall see.

672. Love

This axiom I have often heard,
Kings ought to be more lov’d than fear’d.

673. To M. Denham on His Prospective Poem

Or look’d I back unto the times hence flown
To praise those Muses and dislike our own—
Or did I walk those Pæan-gardens through,
To kick the flowers and scorn their odours too—
I might, and justly, be reputed here
One nicely mad or peevishly severe.
But by Apollo! as I worship wit,
Where I have cause to burn perfumes to it;
So, I confess, ’tis somewhat to do well
In our high art, although we can’t excel
Like thee, or dare the buskins to unloose
Of thy brave, bold, and sweet Maronian muse.
But since I’m call’d, rare Denham, to be gone,
Take from thy Herrick this conclusion:
’Tis dignity in others, if they be
Crown’d poets, yet live princes under thee;
The while their wreaths and purple robes do shine
Less by their own gems than those beams of thine.

Pæan-gardens, gardens sacred to Apollo.
Nicely, fastidiously.

674. A Hymn to the Lares

It was, and still my care is,
To worship ye, the Lares,
With crowns of greenest parsley
And garlic chives, not scarcely;
For favours here to warm me,
And not by fire to harm me;
For gladding so my hearth here
With inoffensive mirth here;
That while the wassail bowl here
With North-down ale doth troul here,
No syllable doth fall here
To mar the mirth at all here.
For which, O chimney-keepers!
(I dare not call ye sweepers)
So long as I am able
To keep a country table,
Great be my fare, or small cheer,
I’ll eat and drink up all here.

Troul, pass round.

675. Denial in Women No Disheartening to Men

Women, although they ne’er so goodly make it,
Their fashion is, but to say no, to take it.

676. Adversity

Love is maintain’d by wealth; when all is spent,
Adversity then breeds the discontent.

677. To Fortune

Tumble me down, and I will sit
Upon my ruins, smiling yet;
Tear me to tatters, yet I’ll be
Patient in my necessity.
Laugh at my scraps of clothes, and shun
Me, as a fear’d infection;
Yet, scare-crow-like, I’ll walk as one
Neglecting thy derision.

678. To Anthea

Come, Anthea, know thou this,
Love at no time idle is;
Let’s be doing, though we play
But at push-pin half the day;
Chains of sweet bents let us make
Captive one, or both, to take:
In which bondage we will lie,
Souls transfusing thus, and die.

Push-pin, a childish game in which one player placed a pin and the other pushed it.
Bents, grasses.

679. Cruelties

Nero commanded; but withdrew his eyes
From the beholding death and cruelties.

680. Perseverance

Hast thou begun an act? ne’er then give o’er:
No man despairs to do what’s done before.

681. Upon His Verses

What offspring other men have got,
The how, where, when, I question not.
These are the children I have left,
Adopted some, none got by theft;
But all are touch’d, like lawful plate,
And no verse illegitimate.

Touch’d, tested.

682. Distance Betters Dignities

Kings must not oft be seen by public eyes:
State at a distance adds to dignities.

683. Health

Health is no other, as the learned hold,
But a just measure both of heat and cold.

684. To Dianeme. A Ceremony in Gloucester

I’ll to thee a simnel bring,
’Gainst thou go’st a-mothering:
So that when she blesseth thee,
Half that blessing thou’lt give me.

Simnel, a cake, originally made of fine flour, eaten at Mid-Lent.
A-mothering, visiting relations in Mid-Lent, but see Note.

685. To the King

Give way, give way! now, now my Charles shines here
A public light, in this immensive sphere;
Some stars were fix’d before, but these are dim
Compar’d, in this my ample orb, to him.
Draw in your feeble fires, while that he
Appears but in his meaner majesty.
Where, if such glory flashes from his name,
Which is his shade, who can abide his flame!
Princes, and such like public lights as these,
Must not be look’d on but at distances:
For, if we gaze on these brave lamps too near,
Our eyes they’ll blind, or if not blind, they’ll blear.

Immensive, immeasurable.

686. The Funeral Rites of the Rose

The rose was sick, and smiling died;
And, being to be sanctified,
About the bed there sighing stood
The sweet and flowery sisterhood.
Some hung the head, while some did bring,
To wash her, water from the spring.
Some laid her forth, while others wept,
But all a solemn fast there kept.
The holy sisters, some among,
The sacred dirge and trentall sung.
But ah! what sweets smelt everywhere,
As heaven had spent all perfumes there.
At last, when prayers for the dead
And rites were all accomplished,
They, weeping, spread a lawny loom
And clos’d her up, as in a tomb.

Trentall, a service for the dead.

687. The Rainbow, or Curious Covenant

Mine eyes, like clouds, were drizzling rain;
And as they thus did entertain
The gentle beams from Julia’s sight
To mine eyes levell’d opposite,
O thing admir’d! there did appear
A curious rainbow smiling there;
Which was the covenant that she
No more would drown mine eyes or me.

688. The Last Stroke Strikes Sure

Though by well warding many blows we’ve pass’d,
That stroke most fear’d is which is struck the last.

689. Fortune

Fortune’s a blind profuser of her own,
Too much she gives to some, enough to none.

690. Stool-Ball

At stool-ball, Lucia, let us play
  For sugar-cakes and wine:
Or for a tansy let us pay,
  The loss, or thine, or mine.

If thou, my dear, a winner be
  At trundling of the ball,
The wager thou shall have, and me,
  And my misfortunes all.

But if, my sweetest, I shall get,
  Then I desire but this:
That likewise I may pay the bet
  And have for all a kiss.

Stool-ball, a game of ball played by girls.
Tansy, a cake made of eggs, cream, and herbs.

691. To Sappho

Let us now take time and play,
Love, and live here while we may;
Drink rich wine, and make good cheer,
While we have our being here;
For once dead and laid i’ th’ grave,
No return from thence we have.

692. On Poet Prat. Epig

Prat he writes satires, but herein’s the fault,
In no one satire there’s a mite of salt.

693. Upon Tuck. Epig

At post and pair, or slam, Tom Tuck would play
This Christmas, but his want wherewith says nay.

Post and pair, or slam, old games of cards. Ben Jonson calls the former a “thrifty and right worshipful game”.

694. Biting of Beggars

Who, railing, drives the lazar from his door,
Instead of alms, sets dogs upon the poor.

695. The May-Pole

  The May-pole is up!
  Now give me the cup,
I’ll drink to the garlands around it;
  But first unto those
  Whose hands did compose
The glory of flowers that crown’d it.

  A health to my girls,
  Whose husbands may earls
Or lords be, granting my wishes,
  And when that ye wed
  To the bridal bed,
Then multiply all like to fishes.

696. Men Mind No State in Sickness

That flow of gallants which approach
To kiss thy hand from out the coach;
That fleet of lackeys which do run
Before thy swift postillion;
Those strong-hoof’d mules which we behold
Rein’d in with purple, pearl, and gold,
And shod with silver, prove to be
The drawers of the axletree.
Thy wife, thy children, and the state
Of Persian looms and antique plate;
All these, and more, shall then afford
No joy to thee, their sickly lord.

697. Adversity

Adversity hurts none, but only such
Whom whitest fortune dandled has too much.

698. Want

Need is no vice at all, though here it be
With men a loathed inconveniency.

699. Grief

Sorrows divided amongst many, less
Discruciate a man in deep distress.

Discruciate, torture.

700. Love Palpable

I press’d my Julia’s lips, and in the kiss
Her soul and love were palpable in this.

701. No Action Hard to Affection

Nothing hard or harsh can prove
Unto those that truly love.

702. Mean Things Overcome Mighty

By the weak’st means things mighty are o’erthrown.
He’s lord of thy life who contemns his own.

705. The Bracelet of Pearl: To Silvia

I brake thy bracelet ’gainst my will,
  And, wretched, I did see
Thee discomposed then, and still
  Art discontent with me.

One gem was lost, and I will get
  A richer pearl for thee,
Than ever, dearest Silvia, yet
  Was drunk to Antony.

Or, for revenge, I’ll tell thee what
  Thou for the breach shall do;
First crack the strings, and after that
  Cleave thou my heart in two.

706. How Roses Came Red

’Tis said, as Cupid danc’d among
The gods he down the nectar flung,
Which on the white rose being shed
Made it for ever after red.

707. Kings

Men are not born kings, but are men renown’d;
Chose first, confirm’d next, and at last are crown’d.

708. First Work, and Then Wages

Preposterous is that order, when we run
To ask our wages ere our work be done.

Preposterous, lit. hind part before.

709. Tears and Laughter

Knew’st thou one month would take thy life away,
Thou’dst weep; but laugh, should it not last a day.

710. Glory

Glory no other thing is, Tully says,
Than a man’s frequent fame spoke out with praise.

711. Possessions

Those possessions short-liv’d are,
Into the which we come by war.

713. His Return to London

From the dull confines of the drooping West
To see the day spring from the pregnant East,
Ravish’d in spirit I come, nay, more, I fly
To thee, bless’d place of my nativity!
Thus, thus with hallowed foot I touch the ground,
With thousand blessings by thy fortune crown’d.
O fruitful Genius! that bestowest here
An everlasting plenty, year by year.
O place! O people! Manners! fram’d to please
All nations, customs, kindreds, languages!
I am a free-born Roman; suffer, then,
That I amongst you live a citizen.
London my home is: though by hard fate sent
Into a long and irksome banishment;
Yet since call’d back; henceforward let me be,
O native country, repossess’d by thee!
For, rather than I’ll to the West return,
I’ll beg of thee first here to have mine urn.
Weak I am grown, and must in short time fall;
Give thou my sacred relics burial.

714. Not Every Day Fit for Verse

’Tis not ev’ry day that I
Fitted am to prophesy;
No; but when the spirit fills
The fantastic pannicles
Full of fire, then I write
As the godhead doth indite.
Thus enrag’d, my lines are hurled,
Like the Sybil’s, through the world.
Look how next the holy fire
Either slakes, or doth retire;
So the fancy cools, till when
That brave spirit comes again.

Fantastic pannicles, brain cells of the imagination.
Sybil’s, the oracles of the Cumæan Sybil were written on leaves, which the wind blew about her cave.

—Virg. Æn. iv.

715. Poverty the Greatest Pack

To mortal men great loads allotted be,
But of all packs, no pack like poverty.

716. A Bucolic, or Discourse of Neatherds

1. Come, blitheful neatherds, let us lay
 A wager who the best shall play,
 Of thee or I, the roundelay
 That fits the business of the day.

Chor. And Lalage the judge shall be,
   To give the prize to thee, or me.

2. Content, begin, and I will bet
 A heifer smooth, and black as jet,
 In every part alike complete,
 And wanton as a kid as yet.

Chor. And Lalage, with cow-like eyes,
   Shall be disposeress of the prize.

1. Against thy heifer, I will here
 Lay to thy stake a lusty steer
 With gilded horns, and burnish’d clear.

Chor. Why, then, begin, and let us hear
   The soft, the sweet, the mellow note
   That gently purls from either’s oat.

2. The stakes are laid: let’s now apply
 Each one to make his melody.

Lal. The equal umpire shall be I,
  Who’ll hear, and so judge righteously.

Chor. Much time is spent in prate; begin,
   And sooner play, the sooner win.

          [1 Neatherd plays

2. That’s sweetly touch’d, I must confess,
 Thou art a man of worthiness;
 But hark how I can now express
 My love unto my neatherdess. [He sings

Chor. A sugar’d note! and sound as sweet
   As kine when they at milking meet.

1. Now for to win thy heifer fair,
 I’ll strike thee such a nimble air
 That thou shalt say thyself ’tis rare,
 And title me without compare.

Chor. Lay by a while your pipes, and rest,
   Since both have here deserved best.

2. To get thy steerling, once again
 I’ll play thee such another strain
 That thou shalt swear my pipe does reign
 Over thine oat as sovereign. [He sings

Chor. And Lalage shall tell by this,
   Whose now the prize and wager is.

1. Give me the prize. 2. The day is mine.
1. Not so; my pipe has silenc’d thine:
 And hadst thou wager’d twenty kine,
 They were mine own. Lal. In love combine.

Chor. And lay ye down your pipes together,
   As weary, not o’ercome by either.

And lay ye down your pipes. The original edition reads And lay we down our pipes.

717. True Safety

’Tis not the walls or purple that defends
A prince from foes, but ’tis his fort of friends.

718. A Prognostic

As many laws and lawyers do express
Nought but a kingdom’s ill-affectedness;
Even so, those streets and houses do but show
Store of diseases where physicians flow.

719. Upon Julia’s Sweat

Would ye oil of blossoms get?
Take it from my Julia’s sweat:
Oil of lilies and of spike?
From her moisture take the like.
Let her breathe, or let her blow,
All rich spices thence will flow.

Spike, lavender.

720. Proof to No Purpose

You see this gentle stream that glides,
Shov’d on by quick-succeeding tides;
Try if this sober stream you can
Follow to th’ wilder ocean;
And see if there it keeps unspent
In that congesting element.
Next, from that world of waters, then
By pores and caverns back again
Induct that inadult’rate same
Stream to the spring from whence it came.
This with a wonder when ye do,
As easy, and else easier too,
Then may ye recollect the grains
Of my particular remains,
After a thousand lusters hurl’d
By ruffling winds about the world.

721. Fame

’Tis still observ’d that fame ne’er sings
The order, but the sum of things.

722. By Use Comes Easiness

Oft bend the bow, and thou with ease shalt do
What others can’t with all their strength put to.

723. To the Genius of His House

Command the roof, great Genius, and from thence
Into this house pour down thy influence,
That through each room a golden pipe may run
Of living water by thy benison.
Fulfill the larders, and with strengthening bread
Be evermore these bins replenished.
Next, like a bishop consecrate my ground,
That lucky fairies here may dance their round;
And after that, lay down some silver pence
The master’s charge and care to recompense.
Charm then the chambers, make the beds for ease,
More than for peevish, pining sicknesses.
Fix the foundation fast, and let the roof
Grow old with time but yet keep weather-proof.

724. His Grange, or Private Wealth

       Though clock,
To tell how night draws hence, I’ve none,
       A cock
I have to sing how day draws on.
       I have
A maid, my Prew, by good luck sent
       To save
That little Fates me gave or lent.
       A hen
I keep, which creeking day by day,
       Tells when
She goes her long white egg to lay.
       A goose
I have, which with a jealous ear
       Lets loose
Her tongue to tell that danger’s near.
       A lamb
I keep, tame, with my morsels fed,
       Whose dam
An orphan left him, lately dead.
       A cat
I keep that plays about my house,
       Grown fat
With eating many a miching mouse.
       To these
A TracyA I do keep whereby
       I please
The more my rural privacy;
       Which are
But toys to give my heart some ease;
       Where care
None is, slight things do lightly please.

My Prew, Prudence Baldwin.
Creeking, clucking.
Miching, skulking.

725. Good Precepts or Counsel

In all thy need be thou possess’d
Still with a well-prepared breast;
Nor let the shackles make thee sad;
Thou canst but have what others had.
And this for comfort thou must know
Times that are ill won’t still be so.
Clouds will not ever pour down rain;
A sullen day will clear again.
First peals of thunder we must hear,
Then lutes and harps shall stroke the ear.

726. Money Makes the Mirth

When all birds else do of their music fail,
Money’s the still sweet-singing nightingale.

727. Up Tails All

    Begin with a kiss,
    Go on too with this;
And thus, thus, thus let us smother
    Our lips for awhile,
    But let’s not beguile
Our hope of one for the other.

    This play, be assur’d,
    Long enough has endur’d,
Since more and more is exacted;
    For Love he doth call
    For his uptails all;
And that’s the part to be acted.

Uptails all, the refrain of a song beginning “Fly Merry News”: see Note.

729. Upon Lucia Dabbled in the Dew

My Lucia in the dew did go,
And prettily bedabbled so,
Her clothes held up, she showed withal
Her decent legs, clean, long, and small.
I follow’d after to descry
Part of the nak’d sincerity;
But still the envious scene between
Denied the mask I would have seen.

Decent, in the Latin sense, comely; sincerity, purity.
Scene, a curtain or “drop-scene”.
Mask, a play.

730. Charon and Philomel; a Dialogue Sung

Ph. Charon! O gentle Charon! let me woo thee
  By tears and pity now to come unto me.
Ch. What voice so sweet and charming do I hear?
  Say what thou art. Ph. I prithee first draw near.
Ch. A sound I hear, but nothing yet can see;
  Speak, where thou art. Ph. O Charon pity me!
  I am a bird, and though no name I tell,
  My warbling note will say I’m Philomel.
Ch. What’s that to me? I waft nor fish or fowls,
  Nor beasts, fond thing, but only human souls.
Ph. Alas for me! Ch. Shame on thy witching note
  That made me thus hoist sail and bring my boat:
  But I’ll return; what mischief brought thee hither?
Ph. A deal of love and much, much grief together.
Ch. What’s thy request? Ph. That since she’s now beneath
  Who fed my life, I’ll follow her in death.
Ch. And is that all? I’m gone. Ph. By love I pray thee.
Ch. Talk not of love; all pray, but few souls pay me.
Ph. I’ll give thee vows and tears. Ch. Can tears pay scores
  For mending sails, for patching boat and oars?
Ph. I’ll beg a penny, or I’ll sing so long
  Till thou shalt say I’ve paid thee with a song.
Ch. Why then begin; and all the while we make
  Our slothful passage o’er the Stygian Lake,
  Thou and I’ll sing to make these dull shades merry,
  Who else with tears would doubtless drown my ferry.

Fond, foolish.
She’s now beneath, her mother Zeuxippe?

733. A Ternary of Littles, Upon a Pipkin of Jelly Sent to a Lady

A little saint best fits a little shrine,
A little prop best fits a little vine:
As my small cruse best fits my little wine.

A little seed best fits a little soil,
A little trade best fits a little toil:
As my small jar best fits my little oil.

A little bin best fits a little bread,
A little garland fits a little head:
As my small stuff best fits my little shed.

A little hearth best fits a little fire,
A little chapel fits a little choir:
As my small bell best fits my little spire.

A little stream best fits a little boat,
A little lead best fits a little float:
As my small pipe best fits my little note.

A little meat best fits a little belly,
As sweetly, lady, give me leave to tell ye,
This little pipkin fits this little jelly.

734. Upon the Roses in Julia’s Bosom

Thrice happy roses, so much grac’d to have
Within the bosom of my love your grave.
Die when ye will, your sepulchre is known,
Your grave her bosom is, the lawn the stone.

735. Maids’ Nays Are Nothing

Maids’ nays are nothing, they are shy
But to desire what they deny.

736. The Smell of the Sacrifice

The gods require the thighs
Of beeves for sacrifice;
Which roasted, we the steam
Must sacrifice to them,
Who though they do not eat,
Yet love the smell of meat.

737. Lovers: How They Come and Part

A gyges’ ring they bear about them still,
To be, and not seen when and where they will.
They tread on clouds, and though they sometimes fall,
They fall like dew, but make no noise at all.
So silently they one to th’ other come,
As colours steal into the pear or plum,
And air-like, leave no pression to be seen
Where’er they met or parting place has been.

Gyges’ ring, which made the wearer invisible.

738. To Women, to Hide Their Teeth If They — Be Rotten or Rusty

Close keep your lips, if that you mean
To be accounted inside clean:
For if you cleave them we shall see
There in your teeth much leprosy.

739. In Praise of Women

O Jupiter, should I speak ill
Of woman-kind, first die I will;
Since that I know, ‘mong all the rest
Of creatures, woman is the best.

740. The Apron of Flowers

To gather flowers Sappha went,
  And homeward she did bring
Within her lawny continent
  The treasure of the spring.

She smiling blush’d, and blushing smil’d,
  And sweetly blushing thus,
She look’d as she’d been got with child
  By young Favonius.

Her apron gave, as she did pass,
  An odour more divine,
More pleasing, too, than ever was
  The lap of Proserpine.

Continent, anything that holds, here the bosom of her dress.

741. The Candour of Julia’s Teeth

White as Zenobia’s teeth, the which the girls
Of Rome did wear for their most precious pearls.

Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, conquered by the Romans, a.d. 273.

742. Upon Her Weeping

She wept upon her cheeks, and weeping so,
She seem’d to quench love’s fire that there did glow.

743. Another Upon Her Weeping

She by the river sat, and sitting there,
She wept, and made it deeper by a tear.

744. Delay

Break off delay, since we but read of one
That ever prospered by cunctation.

Cunctation, delay: the word is suggested by the name of Fabius Cunctator, the conqueror of the Carthaginians, addressed by Virg. (Æn. vi. 846) as “Unus qui nobis cunctando restituis rem”.

745. To Sir John Berkley, Governor of Exeter

Stand forth, brave man, since fate has made thee here
The Hector over aged Exeter,
Who for a long, sad time has weeping stood
Like a poor lady lost in widowhood,
But fears not now to see her safety sold,
As other towns and cities were, for gold
By those ignoble births which shame the stem
That gave progermination unto them:
Whose restless ghosts shall hear their children sing,
“Our sires betrayed their country and their king”.
True, if this city seven times rounded was
With rock, and seven times circumflank’d with brass,
Yet if thou wert not, Berkley, loyal proof,
The senators, down tumbling with the roof,
Would into prais’d, but pitied, ruins fall,
Leaving no show where stood the capitol.
But thou art just and itchless, and dost please
Thy Genius with two strengthening buttresses,
Faith and affection, which will never slip
To weaken this thy great dictatorship.

Progermination, budding out.
Itchless, i.e., with no itch for bribes.

746. To Electra. Love Looks for Love

Love love begets, then never be
Unsoft to him who’s smooth to thee.
Tigers and bears, I’ve heard some say,
For proffer’d love will love repay:
None are so harsh, but if they find
Softness in others, will be kind;
Affection will affection move,
Then you must like because I love.

747. Regression Spoils Resolution

Hast thou attempted greatness? then go on:
Back-turning slackens resolution.

748. Contention

Discreet and prudent we that discord call
That either profits, or not hurts at all.

749. Consultation

Consult ere thou begin’st; that done, go on
With all wise speed for execution.

Consult, take counsel. The word and the epigram are suggested by Sallust’s “Nam et, prius quam incipias, consulto, et ubi consulueris, mature facto opus est,” Cat. i.

750. Love Dislikes Nothing

Whatsoever thing I see,
Rich or poor although it be;
’Tis a mistress unto me.

Be my girl or fair or brown,
Does she smile or does she frown,
Still I write a sweetheart down.

Be she rough or smooth of skin;
When I touch I then begin
For to let affection in.

Be she bald, or does she wear
Locks incurl’d of other hair,
I shall find enchantment there.

Be she whole, or be she rent,
So my fancy be content,
She’s to me most excellent.

Be she fat, or be she lean,
Be she sluttish, be she clean,
I’m a man for ev’ry scene.

751. Our Own Sins Unseen

Other men’s sins we ever bear in mind;
None sees the fardell of his faults behind.

Fardell, bundle.

752. No Pains, No Gains

If little labour, little are our gains:
Man’s fortunes are according to his pains.

754. Virtue Best United

By so much, virtue is the less,
By how much, near to singleness.

755. The Eye

A wanton and lascivious eye
Betrays the heart’s adultery.

756. To Prince Charles Upon His Coming to Exeter

What fate decreed, time now has made us see,
A renovation of the west by thee.
That preternatural fever, which did threat
Death to our country, now hath lost his heat,
And, calms succeeding, we perceive no more
Th’ unequal pulse to beat, as heretofore.
Something there yet remains for thee to do;
Then reach those ends that thou wast destin’d to.
Go on with Sylla’s fortune; let thy fate
Make thee like him, this, that way fortunate:
Apollo’s image side with thee to bless
Thy war (discreetly made) with white success.
Meantime thy prophets watch by watch shall pray,
While young Charles fights, and fighting wins the day:
That done, our smooth-paced poems all shall be
Sung in the high doxology of thee.
Then maids shall strew thee, and thy curls from them
Receive with songs a flowery diadem.

Sylla’s fortune, in allusion to Sylla’s surname of Felix.
Doxology, glorifying.

757. A Song

Burn, or drown me, choose ye whether,
So I may but die together;
Thus to slay me by degrees
Is the height of cruelties.
What needs twenty stabs, when one
Strikes me dead as any stone?
O show mercy then, and be
Kind at once to murder me.

758. Princes and Favourites

Princes and fav’rites are most dear, while they
By giving and receiving hold the play;
But the relation then of both grows poor,
When these can ask, and kings can give no more.

759. Examples; or, Like Prince, Like People

Examples lead us, and we likely see;
Such as the prince is, will his people be.

760. Potentates

Love and the Graces evermore do wait
Upon the man that is a potentate.

761. The Wake

Come, Anthea, let us two
Go to feast, as others do.
Tarts and custards, creams and cakes,
Are the junkets still at wakes:
Unto which the tribes resort,
Where the business is the sport.
Morris-dancers thou shall see,
Marian, too, in pageantry,
And a mimic to devise
Many grinning properties.
Players there will be, and those
Base in action as in clothes;
Yet with strutting they will please
The incurious villages.
Near the dying of the day
There will be a cudgel-play,
Where a coxcomb will be broke
Ere a good word can be spoke:
But the anger ends all here,
Drenched in ale, or drown’d in beer.
Happy rustics! best content
With the cheapest merriment,
And possess no other fear
Than to want the wake next year.

Marian, Maid Marian of the Robin Hood ballads.
Action, i.e., dramatic action.
Incurious, careless, easily pleased.
Coxcomb, to cause blood to flow from the opponent’s head was the test of victory.

762. The Peter-Penny

  Fresh strewings allow
  To my sepulchre now,
To make my lodging the sweeter;
  A staff or a wand
  Put then in my hand,
With a penny to pay S. Peter.

  Who has not a cross
  Must sit with the loss,
And no whit further must venture;
  Since the porter he
  Will paid have his fee,
Or else not one there must enter.

  Who at a dead lift
  Can’t send for a gift
A pig to the priest for a roaster,
  Shall hear his clerk say,
  By yea and by nay,
No penny, no paternoster.

S. Peter, as the gate-ward of heaven.
Cross, a coin.

763. To Doctor Alabaster

Nor art thou less esteem’d that I have plac’d,
Amongst mine honour’d, thee almost the last:
In great processions many lead the way
To him who is the triumph of the day,
As these have done to thee who art the one,
One only glory of a million:
In whom the spirit of the gods does dwell,
Firing thy soul, by which thou dost foretell
When this or that vast dynasty must fall
Down to a fillet more imperial;
When this or that horn shall be broke, and when
Others shall spring up in their place again;
When times and seasons and all years must lie
Drowned in the sea of wild eternity;
When the black doomsday books, as yet unseal’d,
Shall by the mighty angel be reveal’d;
And when the trumpet which thou late hast found
Shall call to judgment. Tell us when the sound
Of this or that great April day shall be,
And next the Gospel we will credit thee.
Meantime like earth-worms we will crawl below,
And wonder at those things that thou dost know.

For an account of Alabaster see Notes: the allusions here are to his apocalyptic writings.
Horn, used as a symbol of prosperity.
The trumpet which thou late hast found, i.e., Alabaster’s “Spiraculum Tubarum seu Fons Spiritualium Expositionum,” published 1633.
April day, day of weeping, or perhaps rather of “opening” or revelation.

764. Upon His Kinswoman, Mrs. M. S.

Here lies a virgin, and as sweet
As e’er was wrapt in winding sheet.
Her name if next you would have known,
The marble speaks it, Mary Stone:
Who dying in her blooming years,
This stone for name’s sake melts to tears.
If, fragrant virgins, you’ll but keep
A fast, while jets and marbles weep,
And praying, strew some roses on her,
You’ll do my niece abundant honour.

765. Felicity Knows No Fence

Of both our fortunes good and bad we find
Prosperity more searching of the mind:
Felicity flies o’er the wall and fence,
While misery keeps in with patience.

766. Death Ends All Woe

Time is the bound of things; where’er we go
Fate gives a meeting, Death’s the end of woe.

767. A Conjuration to Electra

By those soft tods of wool
With which the air is full;
By all those tinctures there,
That paint the hemisphere;
By dews and drizzling rain
That swell the golden grain;
By all those sweets that be
I’ th’ flowery nunnery;
By silent nights, and the
Three forms of Hecate;
By all aspects that bless
The sober sorceress,
While juice she strains, and pith
To make her philters with;
By time that hastens on
Things to perfection;
And by yourself, the best
Conjurement of the rest:
O my Electra! be
In love with none, but me.

Tods of wool, literally, tod of wool=twenty-eight pounds, here used of the fleecy clouds.
Tinctures, colours.
Three forms of Hecate, the Diva triformis of Hor. Od. iii. 22. Luna in heaven, Diana on earth, Persephone in the world below.
Aspects, i.e., of the planets.

768. Courage Cooled

I cannot love as I have lov’d before;
For I’m grown old and, with mine age, grown poor.
Love must be fed by wealth: this blood of mine
Must needs wax cold, if wanting bread and wine.

769. The Spell

Holy water come and bring;
Cast in salt, for seasoning:
Set the brush for sprinkling:
Sacred spittle bring ye hither;
Meal and it now mix together,
And a little oil to either.
Give the tapers here their light,
Ring the saints’-bell, to affright
Far from hence the evil sprite.

770. His Wish to Privacy

Give me a cell
  To dwell,
Where no foot hath
  A path:
There will I spend
  And end
My wearied years
  In tears.

771. A Good Husband

A Master of a house, as I have read,
Must be the first man up, and last in bed.
With the sun rising he must walk his grounds;
See this, view that, and all the other bounds:
Shut every gate; mend every hedge that’s torn,
Either with old, or plant therein new thorn;
Tread o’er his glebe, but with such care, that where
He sets his foot, he leaves rich compost there.

772. A Hymn to Bacchus

I sing thy praise, Iacchus,
Who with thy thyrse dost thwack us:
And yet thou so dost back us
With boldness, that we fear
No Brutus ent’ring here,
Nor Cato the severe.
What though the lictors threat us,
We know they dare not beat us,
So long as thou dost heat us.
When we thy orgies sing,
Each cobbler is a king,
Nor dreads he any thing:
And though he do not rave,
Yet he’ll the courage have
To call my Lord Mayor knave;
Besides, too, in a brave,
Although he has no riches,
But walks with dangling breeches
And skirts that want their stitches,
And shows his naked flitches,
Yet he’ll be thought or seen
So good as George-a-Green;
And calls his blouze, his queen;
And speaks in language keen.
O Bacchus! let us be
From cares and troubles free;
And thou shalt hear how we
Will chant new hymns to thee.

Orgies, hymns to Bacchus.
Brave, boast.
George-a-Green, the legendary pinner of Wakefield, renowned for the use of the quarterstaff.
Blouze, a fat wench.

773. Upon Puss and Her ‘Prentice. Epig

Puss and her ’prentice both at drawgloves play;
That done, they kiss, and so draw out the day:
At night they draw to supper; then well fed,
They draw their clothes off both, so draw to bed.

Drawgloves, the game of talking on the fingers.

774. Blame the Reward of Princes

Among disasters that dissension brings,
This not the least is, which belongs to kings:
If wars go well, each for a part lays claim;
If ill, then kings, not soldiers, bear the blame.

775. Clemency in Kings

Kings must not only cherish up the good,
But must be niggards of the meanest blood.

776. Anger

Wrongs, if neglected, vanish in short time,
But heard with anger, we confess the crime.

777. A Psalm or Hymn to the Graces

Glory be to the Graces!
That do in public places
Drive thence whate’er encumbers
The list’ning to my numbers.

Honour be to the Graces!
Who do with sweet embraces,
Show they are well contented
With what I have invented.

Worship be to the Graces!
Who do from sour faces,
And lungs that would infect me,
For evermore protect me.

778. A Hymn to the Muses

Honour to you who sit
Near to the well of wit,
And drink your fill of it.

Glory and worship be
To you, sweet maids, thrice three,
Who still inspire me,

And teach me how to sing
Unto the lyric string
My measures ravishing.

Then while I sing your praise,
My priesthood crown with bays
Green, to the end of days.

779. Upon Julia’s Clothes

Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
The liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free;
O how that glittering taketh me!

780. Moderation

In things a moderation keep:
Kings ought to shear, not skin their sheep.

781. To Anthea

Let’s call for Hymen, if agreed thou art;
Delays in love but crucify the heart.
Love’s thorny tapers yet neglected lie:
Speak thou the word, they’ll kindle by-and-bye.
The nimble hours woo us on to wed,
And Genius waits to have us both to bed.
Behold, for us the naked Graces stay
With maunds of roses for to strew the way:
Besides, the most religious prophet stands
Ready to join, as well our hearts as hands.
Juno yet smiles; but if she chance to chide,
Ill luck ’twill bode to th’ bridegroom and the bride.
Tell me, Anthea, dost thou fondly dread
The loss of that we call a maidenhead?
Come, I’ll instruct thee. Know, the vestal fire
Is not by marriage quench’d, but flames the higher.

Maunds, baskets.
Fondly, foolishly.

782. Upon Prew, His Maid

In this little urn is laid
Prudence Baldwin, once my maid:
From whose happy spark here let
Spring the purple violet.

783. The Invitation

To sup with thee thou did’st me home invite;
And mad’st a promise that mine appetite
Should meet and tire on such lautitious meat,
The like not Heliogabalus did eat:
And richer wine would’st give to me, thy guest,
Than Roman Sylla pour’d out at his feast.
I came, ’tis true, and looked for fowl of price,
The bastard phœnix, bird of paradise,
And for no less than aromatic wine
Of maiden’s-blush, commix’d with jessamine.
Clean was the hearth, the mantel larded jet;
Which wanting Lar, and smoke, hung weeping wet;
At last, i’ th’ noon of winter, did appear
A ragg’d-soust-neat’s-foot with sick vinegar:
And in a burnished flagonet stood by,
Beer small as comfort, dead as charity.
At which amaz’d, and pondering on the food,
How cold it was, and how it chill’d my blood;
I curs’d the master, and I damn’d the souce,
And swore I’d got the ague of the house.
Well, when to eat thou dost me next desire,
I’ll bring a fever, since thou keep’st no fire.

Tire, feed on.
Lautitious, sumptuous.
Maiden’s-blush, the pink-rose.
Larded jet, i.e., blacked.
Soust, pickled.

784. Ceremonies for Christmas

  Come, bring with a noise,
  My merry, merry boys,
The Christmas log to the firing;
  While my good dame, she
  Bids ye all be free,
And drink to your hearts’ desiring.

  With the last year’s brand
  Light the new block, and
For good success in his spending
  On your psaltries play,
  That sweet luck may
Come while the log is a-teending.

  Drink now the strong beer,
  Cut the white loaf here;
The while the meat is a-shredding
  For the rare mince-pie,
  And the plums stand by
To fill the paste that’s a-kneading.

Psaltries, a kind of guitar.
Teending, kindling.

785. Christmas-Eve, Another Ceremony

Come guard this night the Christmas-pie,
That the thief, though ne’er so sly,
With his flesh-hooks, don’t come nigh
      To catch it
From him, who all alone sits there,
Having his eyes still in his ear,
And a deal of nightly fear,
      To watch it.

786. Another to the Maids

Wash your hands, or else the fire
Will not teend to your desire;
Unwash’d hands, ye maidens, know,
Dead the fire, though ye blow.

Teend, kindle.

787. Another

Wassail the trees, that they may bear
You many a plum and many a pear:
For more or less fruits they will bring,
As you do give them wassailing.

788. Power and Peace

’Tis never, or but seldom known,
Power and peace to keep one throne.

789. To His Dear Valentine, Mistress Margaret Falconbridge

Now is your turn, my dearest, to be set
A gem in this eternal coronet:
’Twas rich before, but since your name is down
It sparkles now like Ariadne’s crown.
Blaze by this sphere for ever: or this do,
Let me and it shine evermore by you.

790. To Oenone

Sweet Oenone, do but say
Love thou dost, though love says nay.
Speak me fair; for lovers be
Gently kill’d by flattery.

791. Verses

Who will not honour noble numbers, when
Verses out-live the bravest deeds of men?

792. Happiness

That happiness does still the longest thrive,
Where joys and griefs have turns alternative.

793. Things of Choice Long A-Coming

We pray ’gainst war, yet we enjoy no peace;
Desire deferr’d is that it may increase.

794. Poetry Perpetuates the Poet

Here I myself might likewise die,
And utterly forgotten lie,
But that eternal poetry
Repullulation gives me here
Unto the thirtieth thousand year,
When all now dead shall reappear.

Repullulation, rejuvenescence.
Thirtieth thousand year, an allusion to the doctrine of the Platonic year.

797. Kisses

Give me the food that satisfies a guest:
Kisses are but dry banquets to a feast.

798. Orpheus

Orpheus he went, as poets tell,
To fetch Eurydice from hell;
And had her; but it was upon
This short but strict condition:
Backward he should not look while he
Led her through hell’s obscurity:
But ah! it happened, as he made
His passage through that dreadful shade,
Revolve he did his loving eye,
For gentle fear or jealousy;
And looking back, that look did sever
Him and Eurydice for ever.

803. To Sappho

Sappho, I will choose to go
Where the northern winds do blow
Endless ice and endless snow:
Rather than I once would see
But a winter’s face in thee,
To benumb my hopes and me.

804. To His Faithful Friend, M. John Crofts, Cup-Bearer to the King

For all thy many courtesies to me,
Nothing I have, my Crofts, to send to thee
For the requital, save this only one
Half of my just remuneration.
For since I’ve travell’d all this realm throughout
To seek and find some few immortals out
To circumspangle this my spacious sphere,
As lamps for everlasting shining here;
And having fix’d thee in mine orb a star,
Amongst the rest, both bright and singular,
The present age will tell the world thou art,
If not to th’ whole, yet satisfi’d in part.
As for the rest, being too great a sum
Here to be paid, I’ll pay’t i’ th’ world to come.

805. The Bride-Cake

This day, my Julia, thou must make
For Mistress Bride the wedding-cake:
Knead but the dough, and it will be
To paste of almonds turn’d by thee:
Or kiss it thou but once or twice,
And for the bride-cake there’ll be spice.

806. To Be Merry

  Let’s now take our time
  While w’are in our prime,
And old, old age is afar off:
  For the evil, evil days
  Will come on apace,
Before we can be aware of.

807. Burial

Man may want land to live in; but for all
Nature finds out some place for burial.

808. Lenity

’Tis the Chirurgeon’s praise, and height of art,
Not to cut off, but cure the vicious part.

809. Penitence

Who after his transgression doth repent,
Is half, or altogether innocent.

810. Grief

Consider sorrows, how they are aright:
Grief, if’t be great, ’tis short; if long, ’tis light.

811. The Maiden-Blush

So look the mornings when the sun
Paints them with fresh vermilion:
So cherries blush, and Kathern pears,
And apricots in youthful years:
So corals look more lovely red,
And rubies lately polished:
So purest diaper doth shine,
Stain’d by the beams of claret wine:
As Julia looks when she doth dress
Her either cheek with bashfulness.

Kathern pears, i.e., Catharine pears.

812. The Mean

Imparity doth ever discord bring;
The mean the music makes in everything.

813. Haste Hurtful

Haste is unhappy; what we rashly do
Is both unlucky, aye, and foolish, too.
Where war with rashness is attempted, there
The soldiers leave the field with equal fear.

814. Purgatory

Readers, we entreat ye pray
For the soul of Lucia;
That in little time she be
From her purgatory free:
In the interim she desires
That your tears may cool her fires.

815. The Cloud

Seest thou that cloud that rides in state,
Part ruby-like, part candidate?
It is no other than the bed
Where Venus sleeps half-smothered.

Candidate, robed in white.

817. The Amber Bead

I saw a fly within a bead
Of amber cleanly buried;
The urn was little, but the room
More rich than Cleopatra’s tomb.

818. To My Dearest Sister, M. Mercy Herrick

Whene’er I go, or whatsoe’er befalls
Me in mine age, or foreign funerals,
This blessing I will leave thee, ere I go:
Prosper thy basket and therein thy dough.
Feed on the paste of filberts, or else knead
And bake the flour of amber for thy bread.
Balm may thy trees drop, and thy springs run oil,
And everlasting harvest crown thy soil!
These I but wish for; but thyself shall see
The blessing fall in mellow times on thee.

819. The Transfiguration

Immortal clothing I put on
So soon as, Julia, I am gone
To mine eternal mansion.
Thou, thou art here, to human sight
Cloth’d all with incorrupted light;
But yet how more admir’dly bright
Wilt thou appear, when thou art set
In thy refulgent thronelet,
That shin’st thus in thy counterfeit!

820. Suffer That Thou Canst Not Shift

Does fortune rend thee? Bear with thy hard fate:
Virtuous instructions ne’er are delicate.
Say, does she frown? still countermand her threats:
Virtue best loves those children that she beats.

821. To the Passenger

If I lie unburied, sir,
These my relics pray inter:
’Tis religion’s part to see
Stones or turfs to cover me.
One word more I had to say:
But it skills not; go your way;
He that wants a burial room
For a stone, has Heaven his tomb.

Religion’s, orig. ed. religious.

823. To the King, Upon His Taking of Leicester

This day is yours, great Charles! and in this war
Your fate, and ours, alike victorious are.
In her white stole now Victory does rest
Ensphered with palm on your triumphant crest.
Fortune is now your captive; other Kings
Hold but her hands; you hold both hands and wings.

824. To Julia, in Her Dawn, or Daybreak

By the next kindling of the day,
  My Julia, thou shalt see,
Ere Ave-Mary thou canst say
  I’ll come and visit thee.

Yet ere thou counsel’st with thy glass,
  Appear thou to mine eyes
As smooth, and nak’d, as she that was
  The prime of paradise.

If blush thou must, then blush thou through
  A lawn, that thou mayst look
As purest pearls, or pebbles do
  When peeping through a brook.

As lilies shrin’d in crystal, so
  Do thou to me appear;
Or damask roses when they grow
  To sweet acquaintance there.

825. Counsel

’Twas Cæsar’s saying: Kings no less conquerors are
By their wise counsel, than they be by war.

826. Bad Princes Pill the People

Like those infernal deities which eat
The best of all the sacrificed meat;
And leave their servants but the smoke and sweat:
So many kings, and primates too there are,
Who claim the fat and fleshy for their share
And leave their subjects but the starved ware.

827. Most Words, Less Works

In desp’rate cases all, or most, are known
Commanders, few for execution.

828. To Dianeme

I could but see thee yesterday
  Stung by a fretful bee;
And I the javelin suck’d away,
  And heal’d the wound in thee.

A thousand thorns and briars and stings,
  I have in my poor breast;
Yet ne’er can see that salve which brings
  My passions any rest.

As love shall help me, I admire
  How thou canst sit, and smile
To see me bleed, and not desire
  To staunch the blood the while.

If thou, compos’d of gentle mould,
  Art so unkind to me;
What dismal stories will be told
  Of those that cruel be?

Admire, wonder.

830. His Loss

All has been plundered from me but my wit:
Fortune herself can lay no claim to it.

831. Draw and Drink

Milk still your fountains and your springs: for why?
The more th’are drawn, the less they will grow dry.

833. To Oenone

Thou say’st Love’s dart
Hath pricked thy heart;
And thou dost languish too:
  If one poor prick
  Can make thee sick,
Say, what would many do?

836. To Electra

Shall I go to Love and tell,
Thou art all turned icicle?
Shall I say her altars be
Disadorn’d and scorn’d by thee?
O beware! in time submit;
Love has yet no wrathful fit:
If her patience turns to ire,
Love is then consuming fire.

837. To Mistress Amy Potter

Ay me! I love; give him your hand to kiss
Who both your wooer and your poet is.
Nature has precompos’d us both to love:
Your part’s to grant; my scene must be to move.
Dear, can you like, and liking love your poet?
If you say “Aye,” blush-guiltiness will show it.
Mine eyes must woo you, though I sigh the while:
True love is tongueless as a crocodile.
And you may find in love these different parts—
Wooers have tongues of ice, but burning hearts.

838. Upon a Maid

Here she lies, in bed of spice,
Fair as Eve in Paradise:
For her beauty it was such
Poets could not praise too much.
Virgins, come, and in a ring
Her supremest requiem sing;
Then depart, but see ye tread
Lightly, lightly, o’er the dead.

Supremest, last.

839. Upon Love

Love is a circle, and an endless sphere;
From good to good, revolving here and there.

840. Beauty

Beauty’s no other but a lovely grace
Of lively colours flowing from the face.

841. Upon Love

Some salve to every sore we may apply;
Only for my wound there’s no remedy.
Yet if my Julia kiss me, there will be
A sovereign balm found out to cure me.

844. To His Book

Make haste away, and let one be
A friendly patron unto thee:
Lest, rapt from hence, I see thee lie
Torn for the use of pastery:
Or see thy injur’d leaves serve well,
To make loose gowns for mackerel:
Or see the grocers in a trice,
Make hoods of thee to serve out spice.

845. Readiness

The readiness of doing doth express
No other but the doer’s willingness.

846. Writing

When words we want, Love teacheth to indite;
And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.

847. Society

Two things do make society to stand:
The first commerce is, and the next command.

848. Upon a Maid

Gone she is a long, long way,
But she has decreed a day
Back to come, and make no stay:
So we keep, till her return,
Here, her ashes, or her urn.

849. Satisfaction for Sufferings

For all our works a recompense is sure:
’Tis sweet to think on what was hard t’ endure.

850. The Delaying Bride

Why so slowly do you move
To the centre of your love?
On your niceness though we wait,
Yet the hours say ’tis late:
Coyness takes us, to a measure;
But o’eracted deads the pleasure.
Go to bed, and care not when
Cheerful day shall spring again.
One brave captain did command,
By his word, the sun to stand:
One short charm, if you but say,
Will enforce the moon to stay,
Till you warn her hence, away,
T’ have your blushes seen by day.

Niceness, delicacy.

851. To M. Henry Lawes, the Excellent — Composer of His Lyrics

Touch but thy lyre, my Harry, and I hear
From thee some raptures of the rare Gotiere;
Then if thy voice commingle with the string,
I hear in thee rare Laniere to sing;
Or curious Wilson: tell me, canst thou be
Less than Apollo, that usurp’st such three?
Three, unto whom the whole world give applause;
Yet their three praises praise but one; that’s Lawes.

Gotiere, Wilson, see above, 111.
Laniere, Nicholas Laniere (1590?-1670?), musician and painter, appointed Master of the King’s Music in 1626.

852. Age Unfit for Love

Maidens tell me I am old;
Let me in my glass behold
Whether smooth or not I be,
Or if hair remains to me.
Well, or be’t or be’t not so,
This for certainty I know,
Ill it fits old men to play,
When that Death bids come away.

853. The Bedman, or Gravemaker

Thou hast made many houses for the dead;
When my lot calls me to be buried,
For love or pity, prithee let there be
I’ th’ churchyard made one tenement for me.

854. To Anthea

Anthea, I am going hence
With some small stock of innocence:
But yet those blessed gates I see
Withstanding entrance unto me.
To pray for me do thou begin,
The porter then will let me in.

855. Need

Who begs to die for fear of human need,
Wisheth his body, not his soul, good speed.

856. To Julia

I am zealless; prithee pray
For my welfare, Julia,
For I think the gods require
Male perfumes, but female fire.

Male perfumes, perfumes of the best kind.

857. On Julia’s Lips

Sweet are my Julia’s lips and clean,
As if o’erwashed in Hippocrene.

858. Twilight

Twilight no other thing is, poets say,
Than the last part of night and first of day.

859. To His Friend, Mr. J. Jincks

Love, love me now, because I place
Thee here among my righteous race:
The bastard slips may droop and die
Wanting both root and earth; but thy
Immortal self shall boldly trust
To live for ever with my Just.

With my Just, cp. 664.

860. On Himself

If that my fate has now fulfill’d my year,
And so soon stopt my longer living here;
What was’t, ye gods, a dying man to save,
But while he met with his paternal grave!
Though while we living ’bout the world do roam,
We love to rest in peaceful urns at home,
Where we may snug, and close together lie
By the dead bones of our dear ancestry.

861. Kings and Tyrants

’Twixt kings and tyrants there’s this difference known:
Kings seek their subjects’ good, tyrants their own.

862. Crosses

Our crosses are no other than the rods,
And our diseases, vultures of the gods:
Each grief we feel, that likewise is a kite
Sent forth by them, our flesh to eat, or bite.

863. Upon Love

Love brought me to a silent grove
  And show’d me there a tree,
Where some had hang’d themselves for love,
  And gave a twist to me.

The halter was of silk and gold,
  That he reach’d forth unto me;
No otherwise than if he would
  By dainty things undo me.

He bade me then that necklace use;
  And told me, too, he maketh
A glorious end by such a noose,
  His death for love that taketh.

’Twas but a dream; but had I been
  There really alone,
My desp’rate fears in love had seen
  Mine execution.

864. No Difference I’ Th’ Dark

Night makes no difference ’twixt the priest and clerk;
Joan as my lady is as good i’ th’ dark.

865. The Body

The body is the soul’s poor house or home,
Whose ribs the laths are, and whose flesh the loam.

866. To Sappho

Thou say’st thou lov’st me, Sappho; I say no;
But would to Love I could believe ’twas so!
Pardon my fears, sweet Sappho; I desire
That thou be righteous found, and I the liar.

867. Out of Time, Out of Tune

We blame, nay, we despise her pains
That wets her garden when it rains:
But when the drought has dried the knot,
Then let her use the wat’ring-pot.
We pray for showers, at our need,
To drench, but not to drown our seed.

Knot, quaintly shaped flower-bed.

868. To His Book

Take mine advice, and go not near
Those faces, sour as vinegar.
For these, and nobler numbers can
Ne’er please the supercilious man.

869. To His Honoured Friend, Sir Thomas Heale

Stand by the magic of my powerful rhymes
’Gainst all the indignation of the times.
Age shall not wrong thee; or one jot abate
Of thy both great and everlasting fate.
While others perish, here’s thy life decreed,
Because begot of my immortal seed.

870. The Sacrifice, by Way of Discourse Betwixt — Himself and Julia

Herr. Come and let’s in solemn wise
   Both address to sacrifice:
   Old religion first commands
   That we wash our hearts, and hands.
   Is the beast exempt from stain,
   Altar clean, no fire profane?
   Are the garlands, is the nard
   Ready here?

Jul. All well prepar’d,
   With the wine that must be shed,
   ’Twixt the horns, upon the head
   Of the holy beast we bring
   For our trespass-offering.

Herr. All is well; now next to these
   Put we on pure surplices;
   And with chaplets crown’d, we’ll roast
   With perfumes the holocaust:
   And, while we the gods invoke,
   Read acceptance by the smoke.

871. To Apollo

Thou mighty lord and master of the lyre,
Unshorn Apollo, come and re-inspire
My fingers so, the lyric-strings to move,
That I may play and sing a hymn to Love.

872. On Love

Love is a kind of war: hence those who fear!
No cowards must his royal ensigns bear.

873. Another

Where love begins, there dead thy first desire:
A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.

874. A Hymn to Cupid

Thou, thou that bear’st the sway,
With whom the sea-nymphs play;
And Venus, every way:
When I embrace thy knee,
And make short pray’rs to thee,
In love then prosper me.
This day I go to woo;
Instruct me how to do
This work thou put’st me to.
From shame my face keep free;
From scorn I beg of thee,
Love, to deliver me:
So shall I sing thy praise,
And to thee altars raise,
Unto the end of days.

875. To Electra

Let not thy tombstone e’er be laid by me:
Nor let my hearse be wept upon by thee:
But let that instant when thou diest be known
The minute of mine expiration.
One knell be rung for both; and let one grave
To hold us two an endless honour have.

876. How His Soul Came Ensnared

My soul would one day go and seek
For roses, and in Julia’s cheek
A richesse of those sweets she found,
As in another Rosamond.
But gathering roses as she was,
Not knowing what would come to pass,
It chanc’d a ringlet of her hair
Caught my poor soul, as in a snare:
Which ever since has been in thrall;
Yet freedom she enjoys withal.

Richesse, wealth.

877. Factions

The factions of the great ones call,
To side with them, the commons all.

881. Upon Julia’s Hair Bundled Up in a Golden Net

Tell me, what needs those rich deceits,
These golden toils, and trammel nets,
To take thine hairs when they are known
Already tame, and all thine own?
’Tis I am wild, and more than hairs
Deserve these meshes and those snares.
Set free thy tresses, let them flow
As airs do breathe or winds do blow:
And let such curious net-works be
Less set for them than spread for me.

883. The Shower of Blossoms

Love in a shower of blossoms came
Down, and half drown’d me with the same:
The blooms that fell were white and red;
But with such sweets comminglèd,
As whether—this I cannot tell—
My sight was pleas’d more, or my smell:
But true it was, as I roll’d there,
Without a thought of hurt or fear,
Love turn’d himself into a bee,
And with his javelin wounded me:
From which mishap this use I make,
Where most sweets are, there lies a snake:
Kisses and favours are sweet things;
But those have thorns and these have stings.

885. A Defence for Women

Naught are all women: I say no,
Since for one bad, one good I know:
For Clytemnestra most unkind,
Loving Alcestis there we find:
For one Medea that was bad,
A good Penelope was had:
For wanton Lais, then we have
Chaste Lucrece, a wife as grave:
And thus through womankind we see
A good and bad. Sirs, credit me.

887. Slavery

’Tis liberty to serve one lord; but he
Who many serves, serves base servility.

888. Charms

Bring the holy crust of bread,
Lay it underneath the head;
’Tis a certain charm to keep
Hags away, while children sleep.

889. Another

Let the superstitious wife
Near the child’s heart lay a knife:
Point be up, and haft be down
(While she gossips in the town);
This, ’mongst other mystic charms,
Keeps the sleeping child from harms.

890. Another to Bring in the Witch

To house the hag, you must do this:
Commix with meal a little piss
Of him bewitch’d; then forthwith make
A little wafer or a cake;
And this rawly bak’d will bring
The old hag in. No surer thing.

891. Another Charm for Stables

Hang up hooks and shears to scare
Hence the hag that rides the mare,
Till they be all over wet
With the mire and the sweat:
This observ’d, the manes shall be
Of your horses all knot-free.

892. Ceremonies for Candlemas Eve

Down with the rosemary and bays,
  Down with the mistletoe;
Instead of holly, now up-raise
  The greener box, for show.

The holly hitherto did sway;
  Let box now domineer
Until the dancing Easter day,
  Or Easter’s eve appear.

Then youthful box which now hath grace
  Your houses to renew;
Grown old, surrender must his place
  Unto the crisped yew.

When yew is out, then birch comes in,
  And many flowers beside;
Both of a fresh and fragrant kin
  To honour Whitsuntide.

  Green rushes, then, and sweetest bents,
    With cooler oaken boughs,
  Come in for comely ornaments
    To re-adorn the house.
Thus times do shift; each thing his turn does hold:
New things succeed, as former things grow old.

Bents, grasses.

893. The Ceremonies for Candlemas Day

Kindle the Christmas brand, and then
  Till sunset let it burn;
Which quench’d, then lay it up again
  Till Christmas next return.
Part must be kept wherewith to teend
  The Christmas log next year,
And where ’tis safely kept, the fiend
  Can do no mischief there.

894. Upon Candlemas Day

End now the white loaf and the pie,
And let all sports with Christmas die.

Teend, kindle.

897. To Bianca, to Bless Him

Would I woo, and would I win?
Would I well my work begin?
Would I evermore be crowned
With the end that I propound?
Would I frustrate or prevent
All aspects malevolent?
Thwart all wizards, and with these
Dead all black contingencies:
Place my words and all works else
In most happy parallels?
All will prosper, if so be
I be kiss’d or bless’d by thee.

898. Julia’s Churching, or Purification

Put on thy holy filletings, and so
To th’ temple with the sober midwife go.
Attended thus, in a most solemn wise,
By those who serve the child-bed mysteries,
Burn first thine incense; next, whenas thou see’st
The candid stole thrown o’er the pious priest,
With reverend curtsies come, and to him bring
Thy free (and not decurted) offering.
All rites well ended, with fair auspice come
(As to the breaking of a bride-cake) home,
Where ceremonious Hymen shall for thee
Provide a second epithalamy.
She who keeps chastely to her husband’s side
Is not for one, but every night his bride;
And stealing still with love and fear to bed,
Brings him not one, but many a maidenhead.

Candid, white.
Decurted, curtailed.

899. To His Book

Before the press scarce one could see
A little-peeping-part of thee;
But since thou’rt printed, thou dost call
To show thy nakedness to all.
My care for thee is now the less,
Having resign’d thy shamefac’dness.
Go with thy faults and fates; yet stay
And take this sentence, then away:
Whom one belov’d will not suffice,
She’ll run to all adulteries.

900. Tears

Tears most prevail; with tears, too, thou may’st move
Rocks to relent, and coyest maids to love.

901. To His Friend to Avoid Contention of Words

Words beget anger; anger brings forth blows;
Blows make of dearest friends immortal foes.
For which prevention, sociate, let there be
Betwixt us two no more logomachy.
Far better ’twere for either to be mute,
Than for to murder friendship by dispute.

Logomachy, contention of words.

902. Truth

Truth is best found out by the time and eyes;
Falsehood wins credit by uncertainties.

904. The Eyes Before the Ears

We credit most our sight; one eye doth please
Our trust far more than ten ear-witnesses.

905. Want

Want is a softer wax, that takes thereon
This, that, and every base impression.

906. To a Friend

Look in my book, and herein see
Life endless signed to thee and me.
We o’er the tombs and fates shall fly;
While other generations die.

907. Upon M. William Lawes, the Rare Musician

Should I not put on blacks, when each one here
Comes with his cypress and devotes a tear?
Should I not grieve, my Lawes, when every lute,
Viol, and voice is by thy loss struck mute?
Thy loss, brave man! whose numbers have been hurl’d,
And no less prais’d than spread throughout the world.
Some have thee call’d Amphion; some of us
Nam’d thee Terpander, or sweet Orpheus:
Some this, some that, but all in this agree,
Music had both her birth and death with thee.

Blacks, mourning garments.

908. A Song Upon Silvia

From me my Silvia ran away,
  And running therewithal
A primrose bank did cross her way,
  And gave my love a fall.

But trust me now, I dare not say
  What I by chance did see;
But such the drap’ry did betray
  That fully ravished me.

909. The Honeycomb

If thou hast found an honeycomb,
Eat thou not all, but taste on some:
For if thou eat’st it to excess,
That sweetness turns to loathsomeness.
Taste it to temper, then ’twill be
Marrow and manna unto thee.

910. Upon Ben Jonson

Here lies Jonson with the rest
Of the poets: but the best.
Reader, would’st thou more have known?
Ask his story, not this stone.
That will speak what this can’t tell
Of his glory. So farewell.

911. An Ode for Him

    Ah Ben!
   Say how, or when
   Shall we thy guests
  Meet at those lyric feasts
   Made at the Sun,
  The Dog, the Triple Tun?
   Where we such clusters had,
  As made us nobly wild, not mad;
   And yet each verse of thine
Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.

       My Ben!
      Or come again,
      Or send to us
    Thy wit’s great overplus;
      But teach us yet
    Wisely to husband it,
   Lest we that talent spend:
  And having once brought to an end
   That precious stock; the store
Of such a wit the world should have no more.

The Sun, etc., famous taverns.

912. Upon a Virgin

Spend, harmless shade, thy nightly hours
Selecting here both herbs and flowers;
Of which make garlands here and there
To dress thy silent sepulchre.
Nor do thou fear the want of these
In everlasting properties,
Since we fresh strewings will bring hither,
Far faster than the first can wither.

913. Blame

In battles what disasters fall,
The king he bears the blame of all.

914. A Request to the Graces

Ponder my words, if so that any be
Known guilty here of incivility:
Let what is graceless, discompos’d, and rude,
With sweetness, smoothness, softness, be endu’d.
Teach it to blush, to curtsy, lisp, and show
Demure, but yet full of temptation, too.
Numbers ne’er tickle, or but lightly please,
Unless they have some wanton carriages.
This if ye do, each piece will here be good,
And graceful made by your neat sisterhood.

915. Upon Himself

I lately fri’d, but now behold
I freeze as fast, and shake for cold.
And in good faith I’d thought it strange
T’ have found in me this sudden change;
But that I understood by dreams
These only were but Love’s extremes;
Who fires with hope the lover’s heart,
And starves with cold the self-same part.

916. Multitude

We trust not to the multitude in war,
But to the stout, and those that skilful are.

917. Fear

Man must do well out of a good intent;
Not for the servile fear of punishment.

918. To M. Kellam

What! can my Kellam drink his sack
  In goblets to the brim,
And see his Robin Herrick lack,
  Yet send no bowls to him?

For love or pity to his muse,
  That she may flow in verse,
Contemn to recommend a cruse,
  But send to her a tierce.

919. Happiness to Hospitality; or, A Hearty — Wish to Good Housekeeping

First, may the hand of bounty bring
Into the daily offering
Of full provision such a store,
Till that the cook cries: Bring no more.
Upon your hogsheads never fall
A drought of wine, ale, beer, at all;
But, like full clouds, may they from thence
Diffuse their mighty influence.
Next, let the lord and lady here
Enjoy a Christ’ning year by year;
And this good blessing back them still,
T’ have boys, and girls too, as they will.
Then from the porch may many a bride
Unto the holy temple ride:
And thence return, short prayers said,
A wife most richly married.
Last, may the bride and bridegroom be
Untouch’d by cold sterility;
But in their springing blood so play,
As that in lusters few they may,
By laughing too, and lying down,
People a city or a town.

Wish, om. orig. ed.
Lusters, quinquenniums.

920. Cunctation in Correction

The lictors bundled up their rods; beside,
Knit them with knots with much ado unti’d,
That if, unknitting, men would yet repent,
They might escape the lash of punishment.

921. Present Government Grievous

Men are suspicious, prone to discontent:
Subjects still loathe the present government.

922. Rest Refreshes

Lay by the good a while; a resting field
Will, after ease, a richer harvest yield;
Trees this year bear: next, they their wealth withhold:
Continual reaping makes a land wax old.

923. Revenge

Man’s disposition is for to requite
An injury, before a benefit:
Thanksgiving is a burden and a pain;
Revenge is pleasing to us, as our gain.

924. The First Mars or Makes

In all our high designments ’twill appear,
The first event breeds confidence or fear.

925. Beginning Difficult

Hard are the two first stairs unto a crown:
Which got, the third bids him a king come down.

926. Faith Four-Square

Faith is a thing that’s four-square; let it fall
This way or that, it not declines at all.

927. The Present Time Best Pleaseth

Praise they that will times past; I joy to see
Myself now live: this age best pleaseth me.

928. Clothes Are Conspirators

Though from without no foes at all we fear,
We shall be wounded by the clothes we wear.

929. Cruelty

’Tis but a dog-like madness in bad kings,
For to delight in wounds and murderings:
As some plants prosper best by cuts and blows,
So kings by killing do increase their foes.

930. Fair After Foul

Tears quickly dry, griefs will in time decay:
A clear will come after a cloudy day.

931. Hunger

Ask me what hunger is, and I’ll reply,
’Tis but a fierce desire of hot and dry.

932. Bad Wages for Good Service

In this misfortune kings do most excel,
To hear the worst from men when they do well.

933. The End

Conquer we shall, but we must first contend;
’Tis not the fight that crowns us, but the end.

934. The Bondman

Bind me but to thee with thine hair,
  And quickly I shall be
Made by that fetter or that snare
  A bondman unto thee.
Or if thou tak’st that bond away,
  Then bore me through the ear,
And by the law I ought to stay
  For ever with thee here.

935. Choose for the Best

Give house-room to the best; ’tis never known
Virtue and pleasure both to dwell in one.

936. To Silvia

Pardon my trespass, Silvia; I confess
My kiss out-went the bounds of shamefastness:
None is discreet at all times; no, not Jove
Himself, at one time, can be wise and love.

937. Fair Shows Deceive

Smooth was the sea, and seem’d to call
Two pretty girls to play withal:
Who paddling there, the sea soon frown’d,
And on a sudden both were drown’d.
What credit can we give to seas,
Who, kissing, kill such saints as these?

938. His Wish

Fat be my hind; unlearned be my wife;
Peaceful my night; my day devoid of strife:
To these a comely offspring I desire,
Singing about my everlasting fire.

Hind, country servant.

939. Upon Julia Washing Herself in the River

How fierce was I, when I did see
My Julia wash herself in thee!
So lilies thorough crystal look:
So purest pebbles in the brook:
As in the river Julia did,
Half with a lawn of water hid.
Into thy streams myself I threw,
And struggling there, I kiss’d thee too;
And more had done, it is confess’d,
Had not thy waves forbade the rest.

940. A Mean in Our Means

Though frankincense the deities require,
We must not give all to the hallowed fire.
Such be our gifts, and such be our expense,
As for ourselves to leave some frankincense.

941. Upon Clunn

A roll of parchment Clunn about him bears,
Charg’d with the arms of all his ancestors:
And seems half ravish’d, when he looks upon
That bar, this bend; that fess, this cheveron;
This manch, that moon; this martlet, and that mound;
This counterchange of pearl and diamond.
What joy can Clunn have in that coat, or this,
Whenas his own still out at elbows is?

942. Upon Cupid

Love, like a beggar, came to me
  With hose and doublet torn:
His shirt bedangling from his knee,
  With hat and shoes outworn.

He ask’d an alms; I gave him bread,
  And meat too, for his need:
Of which, when he had fully fed,
  He wished me all good speed.

Away he went, but as he turn’d
  (In faith I know not how)
He touch’d me so, as that I burn[‘d],
  And am tormented now.

Love’s silent flames and fires obscure
  Then crept into my heart;
And though I saw no bow, I’m sure
  His finger was the dart.

946. An Hymn to Love

    I will confess
    With cheerfulness,
Love is a thing so likes me,
    That let her lay
    On me all day,
I’ll kiss the hand that strikes me.

    I will not, I,
    Now blubb’ring, cry,
It, ah! too late repents me,
    That I did fall
    To love at all,
Since love so much contents me.

    No, no, I’ll be
    In fetters free:
While others they sit wringing
    Their hands for pain,
    I’ll entertain
The wounds of love with singing.

    With flowers and wine,
    And cakes divine,
To strike me I will tempt thee:
    Which done; no more
    I’ll come before
Thee and thine altars empty.

947. To His Honoured and Most Ingenious — Friend, Mr. Charles Cotton

For brave comportment, wit without offence,
Words fully flowing, yet of influence:
Thou art that man of men, the man alone,
Worthy the public admiration:
Who with thine own eyes read’st what we do write,
And giv’st our numbers euphony and weight;
Tell’st when a verse springs high, how understood
To be, or not, born of the royal blood.
What state above, what symmetry below,
Lines have, or should have, thou the best can’st show.
For which, my Charles, it is my pride to be
Not so much known, as to be lov’d of thee.
Long may I live so, and my wreath of bays
Be less another’s laurel than thy praise.

948. Women Useless

What need we marry women, when
Without their use we may have men,
And such as will in short time be
For murder fit, or mutiny?
As Cadmus once a new way found,
By throwing teeth into the ground;
From which poor seed, and rudely sown,
Sprung up a war-like nation:
So let us iron, silver, gold,
Brass, lead, or tin throw into th’ mould;
And we shall see in little space
Rise up of men a fighting race.
If this can be, say then, what need
Have we of women or their seed?

949. Love Is a Syrup

Love is a syrup; and whoe’er we see
Sick and surcharg’d with this satiety,
Shall by this pleasing trespass quickly prove
There’s loathsomeness e’en in the sweets of love.

950. Leaven

Love is a leaven; and a loving kiss
The leaven of a loving sweetheart is.

951. Repletion

Physicians say repletion springs
More from the sweet than sour things.

952. On Himself

Weep for the dead, for they have lost this light:
And weep for me, lost in an endless night.
Or mourn, or make a marble verse for me,
Who writ for many. Benedicite.

953. No Man Without Money

No man such rare parts hath that he can swim,
If favour or occasion help not him.

954. On Himself

Lost to the world; lost to myself; alone
Here now I rest under this marble stone:
In depth of silence, heard and seen of none.

955. To M. Leonard Willan, His Peculiar Friend

I will be short, and having quickly hurl’d
This line about, live thou throughout the world;
Who art a man for all scenes; unto whom,
What’s hard to others, nothing’s troublesome.
Can’st write the comic, tragic strain, and fall
From these to pen the pleasing pastoral:
Who fli’st at all heights: prose and verse run’st through;
Find’st here a fault, and mend’st the trespass too:
For which I might extol thee, but speak less,
Because thyself art coming to the press:
And then should I in praising thee be slow,
Posterity will pay thee what I owe.

956. To His Worthy Friend, M. John Hall, Student of Gray’s Inn

Tell me, young man, or did the Muses bring
Thee less to taste than to drink up their spring,
That none hereafter should be thought, or be
A poet, or a poet-like but thee?
What was thy birth, thy star that makes thee known,
At twice ten years, a prime and public one?
Tell us thy nation, kindred, or the whence
Thou had’st and hast thy mighty influence,
That makes thee lov’d, and of the men desir’d,
And no less prais’d than of the maids admired.
Put on thy laurel then; and in that trim
Be thou Apollo or the type of him:
Or let the unshorn god lend thee his lyre,
And next to him be master of the choir.

957. To Julia

Offer thy gift; but first the law commands
Thee, Julia, first, to sanctify thy hands:
Do that, my Julia, which the rites require,
Then boldly give thine incense to the fire.

958. To the Most Comely and Proper — M. Elizabeth Finch

Handsome you are, and proper you will be
Despite of all your infortunity:
Live long and lovely, but yet grow no less
In that your own prefixed comeliness:
Spend on that stock: and when your life must fall,
Leave others beauty to set up withal.

Proper, well-made.

960. To His Book

If hap it must, that I must see thee lie
Absyrtus-like, all torn confusedly:
With solemn tears, and with much grief of heart,
I’ll recollect thee, weeping, part by part;
And having wash’d thee, close thee in a chest
With spice; that done, I’ll leave thee to thy rest.

Absyrtus-like, the brother of Medea, cut in pieces by her that his father might be delayed by gathering his limbs.

961. To the King, Upon His Welcome to Hampton — Court. Set and Sung

Welcome, great Cæsar, welcome now you are
As dearest peace after destructive war:
Welcome as slumbers, or as beds of ease
After our long and peevish sicknesses.
O pomp of glory! Welcome now, and come
To repossess once more your long’d-for home.
A thousand altars smoke: a thousand thighs
Of beeves here ready stand for sacrifice.
Enter and prosper; while our eyes do wait
For an ascendent throughly auspicate:
Under which sign we may the former stone
Lay of our safety’s new foundation:
That done, O Cæsar! live and be to us
Our fate, our fortune, and our genius;
To whose free knees we may our temples tie
As to a still protecting deity:
That should you stir, we and our altars too
May, great Augustus, go along with you.
Chor. Long live the King! and to accomplish this,
   We’ll from our own add far more years to his.

Ascendent, the most influential position of a planet in astrology.
Auspicate, propitious.

962. Ultimus Heroum: Or, To the Most Learned, and to the Right Honourable, Henry, Marquis of Dorchester

And as time past when Cato the severe
Enter’d the circumspacious theatre,
In reverence of his person everyone
Stood as he had been turn’d from flesh to stone;
E’en so my numbers will astonished be
If but looked on; struck dead, if scann’d by thee.

963. To His Muse; Another to the Same

Tell that brave man, fain thou would’st have access
To kiss his hands, but that for fearfulness;
Or else because th’art like a modest bride,
Ready to blush to death, should he but chide.

966. To His Learned Friend, M. Jo. Harmar, Physician to the College of Westminster

When first I find those numbers thou dost write,
To be most soft, terse, sweet, and perpolite:
Next, when I see thee tow’ring in the sky,
In an expansion no less large than high;
Then, in that compass, sailing here and there,
And with circumgyration everywhere;
Following with love and active heat thy game,
And then at last to truss the epigram;
I must confess, distinction none I see
Between Domitian’s Martial then, and thee.
But this I know, should Jupiter again
Descend from heaven to reconverse with men;
The Roman language full, and superfine,
If Jove would speak, he would accept of thine.

Perpolite, well polished.

967. Upon His Spaniel Tracy

Now thou art dead, no eye shall ever see,
For shape and service, spaniel like to thee.
This shall my love do, give thy sad death one
Tear, that deserves of me a million.

968. The Deluge

Drowning, drowning, I espy
Coming from my Julia’s eye:
’Tis some solace in our smart,
To have friends to bear a part:
I have none; but must be sure
Th’ inundation to endure.
Shall not times hereafter tell
This for no mean miracle?
When the waters by their fall
Threaten’d ruin unto all,
Yet the deluge here was known
Of a world to drown but one.

971. Strength to Support Sovereignty

Let kings and rulers learn this line from me:
Where power is weak, unsafe is majesty.

973. Crutches

Thou see’st me, Lucia, this year droop;
Three zodiacs filled more, I shall stoop;
Let crutches then provided be
To shore up my debility.
Then, while thou laugh’st, I’ll sighing cry,
“A ruin, underpropp’d, am I”.
Don will I then my beadsman’s gown,
And when so feeble I am grown,
As my weak shoulders cannot bear
The burden of a grasshopper,
Yet with the bench of aged sires,
When I and they keep termly fires,
With my weak voice I’ll sing, or say,
Some odes I made of Lucia:
Then will I heave my wither’d hand
To Jove the mighty, for to stand
Thy faithful friend, and to pour down
Upon thee many a benison.

Zodiacs, used as symbols of the astronomical year.
Beadsman’s, almshouseman’s.

974. To Julia

Holy waters hither bring
For the sacred sprinkling:
Baptise me and thee, and so
Let us to the altar go,
And, ere we our rites commence,
Wash our hands in innocence.
Then I’ll be the Rex Sacrorum,
Thou the Queen of Peace and Quorum.

Quorum, i.e., quorum of justices of the peace, sportively added for the rhyme’s sake.

975. Upon Case

Case is a lawyer, that ne’er pleads alone,
But when he hears the like confusion,
As when the disagreeing Commons throw
About their House, their clamorous Aye or No:
Then Case, as loud as any serjeant there,
Cries out: My lord, my lord, the case is clear.
But when all’s hush’d, Case, than a fish more mute,
Bestirs his hand, but starves in hand the suit.

976. To Perenna

I a dirge will pen to thee;
Thou a trentall make for me:
That the monks and friars together,
Here may sing the rest of either:
Next, I’m sure, the nuns will have
Candlemas to grace the grave.

Trentall, services for the dead.

977. To His Sister-in-Law, M. Susanna Herrick

The person crowns the place; your lot doth fall
Last, yet to be with these a principal.
Howe’er it fortuned; know for truth, I meant
You a fore-leader in this testament.

978. Upon the Lady Crew

This stone can tell the story of my life,
What was my birth, to whom I was a wife:
In teeming years, how soon my sun was set.
Where now I rest, these may be known by jet.
For other things, my many children be
The best and truest chronicles of me.

979. On Tomasin Parsons

Grow up in beauty, as thou dost begin,
And be of all admired, Tomasin.

980. Ceremony Upon Candlemas Eve

Down with the rosemary, and so
Down with the bays and mistletoe;
Down with the holly, ivy, all,
Wherewith ye dressed the Christmas Hall:
That so the superstitious find
No one least branch there left behind:
For look, how many leaves there be
Neglected, there (maids, trust to me)
So many goblins you shall see.

981. Suspicion Makes Secure

He that will live of all cares dispossess’d,
Must shun the bad, aye, and suspect the best.

983. To His Kinsman, M. Tho. Herrick, Who Desired to Be in His Book

Welcome to this my college, and though late
Thou’st got a place here (standing candidate)
It matters not, since thou art chosen one
Here of my great and good foundation.

984. A Bucolic Betwixt Two: Lacon and Thyrsis

Lacon. For a kiss or two, confess,
   What doth cause this pensiveness,
   Thou most lovely neat-herdess?
   Why so lonely on the hill?
   Why thy pipe by thee so still,
   That erewhile was heard so shrill?
   Tell me, do thy kine now fail
   To full fill the milking-pail?
   Say, what is’t that thou dost ail?

Thyr. None of these; but out, alas!
   A mischance is come to pass,
   And I’ll tell thee what it was:
   See, mine eyes are weeping-ripe.

Lacon. Tell, and I’ll lay down my pipe.

Thyr. I have lost my lovely steer,
   That to me was far more dear
   Than these kine which I milk here:
   Broad of forehead, large of eye,
   Party-colour’d like a pie;
   Smooth in each limb as a die;
   Clear of hoof, and clear of horn:
   Sharply pointed as a thorn,
   With a neck by yoke unworn;
   From the which hung down by strings,
   Balls of cowslips, daisy rings,
   Interplac’d with ribbonings:
   Faultless every way for shape;
   Not a straw could him escape;
   Ever gamesome as an ape,
   But yet harmless as a sheep.
   Pardon, Lacon, if I weep;
   Tears will spring where woes are deep.
   Now, ay me! ay me! Last night
   Came a mad dog and did bite,
   Aye, and kill’d my dear delight.

Lacon. Alack, for grief!

Thyr. But I’ll be brief.
   Hence I must, for time doth call
   Me, and my sad playmates all,
   To his ev’ning funeral.
   Live long, Lacon, so adieu!

Lacon. Mournful maid, farewell to you;
   Earth afford ye flowers to strew.

Pie, i.e., a magpie.

985. Upon Sappho

Look upon Sappho’s lip, and you will swear
There is a love-like leaven rising there.

988. A Bacchanalian Verse

  Drink up
  Your cup,
But not spill wine;
  For if you
    Do,
’Tis an ill sign;

  That we
  Foresee
You are cloy’d here,
  If so, no
    Ho,
But avoid here.

989. Care a Good Keeper

Care keeps the conquest; ’tis no less renown
To keep a city than to win a town.

990. Rules for Our Reach

Men must have bounds how far to walk; for we
Are made far worse by lawless liberty.

991. To Bianca

Ah, Bianca! now I see
It is noon and past with me:
In a while it will strike one;
Then, Bianca, I am gone.
Some effusions let me have
Offer’d on my holy grave;
Then, Bianca, let me rest
With my face towards the East.

992. To the Handsome Mistress Grace Potter

As is your name, so is your comely face
Touch’d everywhere with such diffused grace,
As that in all that admirable round
There is not one least solecism found;
And as that part, so every portion else
Keeps line for line with beauty’s parallels.

993. Anacreontic

  I must
  Not trust
Here to any;
  Bereav’d,
  Deceiv’d
By so many:
  As one
  Undone
By my losses;
  Comply
  Will I
With my crosses;
  Yet still
  I will
Not be grieving,
  Since thence
  And hence
Comes relieving.
  But this
  Sweet is
In our mourning;
  Times bad
  And sad
Are a-turning:
  And he
  Whom we
See dejected,
  Next day
  We may
See erected.

994. More Modest, More Manly

’Tis still observ’d those men most valiant are,
That are most modest ere they come to war.

995. Not to Covet Much Where Little Is the Charge

Why should we covet much, whenas we know
W’ave more to bear our charge than way to go?

996. Anacreontic Verse

Brisk methinks I am, and fine
When I drink my cap’ring wine:
Then to love I do incline,
When I drink my wanton wine:
And I wish all maidens mine,
When I drink my sprightly wine:
Well I sup and well I dine,
When I drink my frolic wine;
But I languish, lower, and pine,
When I want my fragrant wine.

998. Patience in Princes

Kings must not use the axe for each offence:
Princes cure some faults by their patience.

999. Fear Gets Force

Despair takes heart, when there’s no hope to speed:
The coward then takes arms and does the deed.

1000. Parcel-Gilt Poetry

Let’s strive to be the best; the gods, we know it,
Pillars and men, hate an indifferent poet.

1001. Upon Love, by Way of Question and Answer

I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do?
  Ans. Like and dislike ye.
I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do?
  Ans. Stroke ye to strike ye.
I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do?
  Ans. Love will befool ye.
I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do?
  Ans. Heat ye to cool ye.
I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do?
  Ans. Love gifts will send ye.
I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do?
  Ans. Stock ye to spend ye.
I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do?
  Ans. Love will fulfil ye.
I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do?
  Ans. Kiss ye to kill ye.

1002. To the Lord Hopton, on His Fight in Cornwall

Go on, brave Hopton, to effectuate that
Which we, and times to come, shall wonder at.
Lift up thy sword; next, suffer it to fall,
And by that one blow set an end to all.

1003. His Grange

How well contented in this private grange
Spend I my life, that’s subject unto change:
Under whose roof with moss-work wrought, there I
Kiss my brown wife and black posterity.

Grange, a farmstead.

1004. Leprosy in Houses

When to a house I come, and see
The Genius wasteful, more than free:
The servants thumbless, yet to eat
With lawless tooth the flour of wheat:
The sons to suck the milk of kine,
More than the teats of discipline:
The daughters wild and loose in dress,
Their cheeks unstained with shamefac’dness:
The husband drunk, the wife to be
A bawd to incivility;
I must confess, I there descry,
A house spread through with leprosy.

Thumbless, lazy: cp. painful thumb, supra.

1005. Good Manners at Meat

This rule of manners I will teach my guests:
To come with their own bellies unto feasts;
Not to eat equal portions, but to rise
Farced with the food that may themselves suffice.

Farced, stuffed.

1006. Anthea’s Retractation

Anthea laugh’d, and fearing lest excess
Might stretch the cords of civil comeliness,
She with a dainty blush rebuk’d her face,
And call’d each line back to his rule and space.

1007. Comforts in Crosses

Be not dismayed though crosses cast thee down;
Thy fall is but the rising to a crown.

1008. Seek and Find

Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt;
Nothing’s so hard but search will find it out.

1009. Rest

On with thy work, though thou be’st hardly press’d:
Labour is held up by the hope of rest.

1010. Leprosy in Clothes

When flowing garments I behold
Inspir’d with purple, pearl and gold,
I think no other, but I see
In them a glorious leprosy
That does infect and make the rent
More mortal in the vestiment.
As flowery vestures do descry
The wearer’s rich immodesty:
So plain and simple clothes do show
Where virtue walks, not those that flow.

1012. Great Maladies, Long Medicines

To an old sore a long cure must go on:
Great faults require great satisfaction.

1013. His Answer to a Friend

You ask me what I do, and how I live?
And, noble friend, this answer I must give:
Drooping, I draw on to the vaults of death,
O’er which you’ll walk, when I am laid beneath.

1014. The Beggar

Shall I a daily beggar be,
For love’s sake asking alms of thee?
Still shall I crave, and never get
A hope of my desired bit?
Ah, cruel maids! I’ll go my way,
Whereas, perchance, my fortunes may
Find out a threshold or a door
That may far sooner speed the poor:
Where thrice we knock, and none will hear,
Cold comfort still I’m sure lives there.

1015. Bastards

Our bastard children are but like to plate
Made by the coiners—illegitimate.

1016. His Change

My many cares and much distress
Has made me like a wilderness;
Or, discompos’d, I’m like a rude
And all confused multitude:
Out of my comely manners worn,
And, as in means, in mind all torn.

1017. The Vision

Methought I saw, as I did dream in bed,
A crawling vine about Anacreon’s head.
Flushed was his face; his hairs with oil did shine;
And, as he spake, his mouth ran o’er with wine.
Tippled he was, and tippling lisped withal;
And lisping reeled, and reeling like to fall.
A young enchantress close by him did stand,
Tapping his plump thighs with a myrtle wand:
She smil’d; he kiss’d; and kissing, cull’d her too,
And being cup-shot, more he could not do.
For which, methought, in pretty anger she
Snatched off his crown, and gave the wreath to me;
Since when, methinks, my brains about do swim,
And I am wild and wanton like to him.

Cull’d, embraced.
Cup-shot, drunk.

1018. A Vow to Venus

Happily I had a sight
Of my dearest dear last night;
Make her this day smile on me,
And I’ll roses give to thee.

1019. On His Book

The bound, almost, now of my book I see,
But yet no end of these therein, or me:
Here we begin new life, while thousands quite
Are lost, and theirs, in everlasting night.

1020. A Sonnet of Perilla

Then did I live when I did see
Perilla smile on none but me.
But, ah! by stars malignant crossed,
The life I got I quickly lost;
But yet a way there doth remain
For me embalm’d to live again,
And that’s to love me; in which state
I’ll live as one regenerate.

1021. Bad May Be Better

Man may at first transgress, but next do well:
Vice doth in some but lodge a while, not dwell.

1022. Posting to Printing

Let others to the printing press run fast;
Since after death comes glory, I’ll not haste.

1023. Rapine Brings Ruin

What’s got by justice is established sure:
No kingdoms got by rapine long endure.

1024. Comfort to a Youth That Had Lost His Love

What needs complaints,
When she a place
Has with the race
  Of saints?
In endless mirth,
She thinks not on
What’s said or done
  In earth.
She sees no tears,
Or any tone
Of thy deep groan
  She hears:
Nor does she mind,
Or think on’t now,
That ever thou
  Wast kind;
But chang’d above,
She likes not there.
As she did here,
  Thy love.
Forbear, therefore,
And lull asleep
Thy woes, and weep
  No more.

1026. Saint Distaff’s Day, or the Morrow After Twelfth Day

Partly work and partly play
Ye must on S. Distaff’s day:
From the plough soon free your team,
Then come home and fodder them.
If the maids a-spinning go,
Burn the flax and fire the tow;
Scorch their plackets, but beware
That ye singe no maidenhair.
Bring in pails of water, then,
Let the maids bewash the men.
Give S. Distaff all the right,
Then bid Christmas sport good-night;
And next morrow everyone
To his own vocation.

Plackets, petticoats.

1027. Sufferance

In the hope of ease to come,
Let’s endure one martyrdom.

1028. His Tears to Thamesis

I send, I send here my supremest kiss
To thee, my silver-footed Thamesis.
No more shall I reiterate thy Strand,
Whereon so many stately structures stand:
Nor in the summer’s sweeter evenings go
To bathe in thee, as thousand others do;
No more shall I along thy crystal glide
In barge with boughs and rushes beautifi’d,
With soft-smooth virgins for our chaste disport,
To Richmond, Kingston, and to Hampton Court.
Never again shall I with finny oar
Put from, or draw unto the faithful shore:
And landing here, or safely landing there,
Make way to my beloved Westminster,
Or to the golden Cheapside, where the earth
Of Julia Herrick gave to me my birth.
May all clean nymphs and curious water-dames
With swan-like state float up and down thy streams:
No drought upon thy wanton waters fall
To make them lean and languishing at all.
No ruffling winds come hither to disease
Thy pure and silver-wristed Naiades.
Keep up your state, ye streams; and as ye spring,
Never make sick your banks by surfeiting.
Grow young with tides, and though I see ye never,
Receive this vow, so fare ye well for ever.

Reiterate, retread.

1029. Pardons

Those ends in war the best contentment bring,
Whose peace is made up with a pardoning.

1030. Peace Not Permanent

Great cities seldom rest; if there be none
T’ invade from far, they’ll find worse foes at home.

1031. Truth and Error

’Twixt truth and error there’s this difference known;
Error is fruitful, truth is only one.

1032. Things Mortal Still Mutable

Things are uncertain, and the more we get,
The more on icy pavements we are set.

1033. Studies to Be Supported

Studies themselves will languish and decay,
When either price or praise is ta’en away.

1034. Wit Punished, Prospers Most

Dread not the shackles: on with thine intent;
Good wits get more fame by their punishment.

1035. Twelfth Night: Or, King and Queen

  Now, now the mirth comes
  With the cake full of plums,
Where bean’s the king of the sport here;
  Beside we must know,
  The pea also
Must revel, as queen, in the court here.

  Begin then to choose,
  This night as ye use,
Who shall for the present delight here,
  Be a king by the lot,
  And who shall not
Be Twelfth-day queen for the night here.

  Which known, let us make
  Joy-sops with the cake;
And let not a man then be seen here,
  Who unurg’d will not drink
  To the base from the brink
A health to the king and the queen here.

  Next crown the bowl full
  With gentle lamb’s wool:
Add sugar, nutmeg, and ginger,
  With store of ale too;
  And thus ye must do
To make the wassail a swinger.

  Give then to the king
  And queen wassailing:
And though with ale ye be whet here,
  Yet part ye from hence,
  As free from offence
As when ye innocent met here.

1036. His Desire

Give me a man that is not dull
When all the world with rifts is full;
But unamaz’d dares clearly sing,
Whenas the roof’s a-tottering:
And, though it falls, continues still
Tickling the cittern with his quill.

Cittern, a kind of lute; quill, the plectrum for striking it.

1037. Caution in Counsel

Know when to speak; for many times it brings
Danger to give the best advice to kings.

1038. Moderation

Let moderation on thy passions wait;
Who loves too much, too much the lov’d will hate.

1039. Advice the Best Actor

Still take advice; though counsels, when they fly
At random, sometimes hit most happily.

1040. Conformity Is Comely

Conformity gives comeliness to things:
And equal shares exclude all murmurings.

1041. Laws

Who violates the customs, hurts the health,
Not of one man, but all the commonwealth.

1042. The Mean

’Tis much among the filthy to be clean;
Our heat of youth can hardly keep the mean.

1043. Like Loves His Like

Like will to like, each creature loves his kind;
Chaste words proceed still from a bashful mind.

1044. His Hope or Sheet Anchor

Among these tempests great and manifold
My ship has here one only anchor-hold;
That is my hope, which if that slip, I’m one
Wildered in this vast wat’ry region.

1045. Comfort in Calamity

’Tis no discomfort in the world to fall,
When the great crack not crushes one, but all.

1046. Twilight

The twilight is no other thing, we say,
Than night now gone, and yet not sprung the day.

1047. False Mourning

He who wears blacks, and mourns not for the dead,
Does but deride the party buried.

Blacks, mourning garments.

1048. The Will Makes the Work; or, Consent — Makes the Cure

No grief is grown so desperate, but the ill
Is half way cured if the party will.

1049. Diet

If wholesome diet can recure a man,
What need of physic or physician?

1050. Smart

Stripes, justly given, yerk us with their fall;
But causeless whipping smarts the most of all.

1051. The Tinker’s Song

Along, come along,
Let’s meet in a throng
  Here of tinkers;
And quaff up a bowl
As big as a cowl
  To beer drinkers.
The pole of the hop
Place in the aleshop
  To bethwack us,
If ever we think
So much as to drink
  Unto Bacchus.
Who frolic will be
For little cost, he
  Must not vary
From beer-broth at all,
So much as to call
  For Canary.

1052. His Comfort

The only comfort of my life
Is, that I never yet had wife;
Nor will hereafter; since I know
Who weds, o’er-buys his weal with woe

1053. Sincerity

Wash clean the vessel, lest ye sour
Whatever liquor in ye pour.

1054. To Anthea

Sick is Anthea, sickly is the spring,
The primrose sick, and sickly everything;
The while my dear Anthea does but droop,
The tulips, lilies, daffodils do stoop:
But when again she’s got her healthful hour,
Each bending then will rise a proper flower.

1055. Nor Buying or Selling

Now, if you love me, tell me,
For as I will not sell ye,
So not one cross to buy thee
I’ll give, if thou deny me.

Cross, a coin.

1056. To His Peculiar Friend, M. Jo. Wicks

Since shed or cottage I have none,
I sing the more, that thou hast one
To whose glad threshold, and free door,
I may a poet come, though poor,
And eat with thee a savoury bit,
Paying but common thanks for it.
Yet should I chance, my Wicks, to see
An over-leaven look in thee,
To sour the bread, and turn the beer
To an exalted vinegar:
Or should’st thou prize me as a dish
Of thrice-boiled worts, or third-day’s fish;
I’d rather hungry go and come,
Than to thy house be burdensome;
Yet, in my depth of grief, I’d be
One that should drop his beads for thee.

Worts, cabbages.
Drop his beads, i.e., pray.

1057. The More Mighty, the More Merciful

Who may do most, does least: the bravest will
Show mercy there, where they have power to kill.

1058. After Autumn, Winter

Die ere long, I’m sure, I shall;
After leaves, the tree must fall.

1059. A Good Death

For truth I may this sentence tell,
No man dies ill, that liveth well.

1060. Recompense

Who plants an olive, but to eat the oil?
Reward, we know, is the chief end of toil.

1061. On Fortune

This is my comfort when she’s most unkind:
She can but spoil me of my means, not mind.

1062. To Sir George Parry, Doctor of the Civil Law

I have my laurel chaplet on my head
If, ’mongst these many numbers to be read,
But one by you be hugg’d and cherished.

Peruse my measures thoroughly, and where
Your judgment finds a guilty poem, there
Be you a judge; but not a judge severe.

The mean pass by, or over, none contemn;
The good applaud; the peccant less condemn,
Since absolution you can give to them.

Stand forth, brave man, here to the public sight;
And in my book now claim a twofold right:
The first as doctor, and the last as knight.

1063. Charms

This I’ll tell ye by the way:
Maidens, when ye leavens lay,
Cross your dough, and your dispatch
Will be better for your batch.

1064. Another

In the morning when ye rise,
Wash your hands and cleanse your eyes.
Next be sure ye have a care
To disperse the water far;
For as far as that doth light,
So far keeps the evil sprite.

1065. Another

If ye fear to be affrighted
When ye are by chance benighted,
In your pocket for a trust
Carry nothing but a crust:
For that holy piece of bread
Charms the danger and the dread.

1067. Gentleness

That prince must govern with a gentle hand
Who will have love comply with his command.

1068. A Dialogue Between Himself and Mistress Eliza Wheeler, Under — The Name of Amaryllis

Her. My dearest love, since thou wilt go,
    And leave me here behind thee,
   For love or pity let me know
    The place where I may find thee.

Ama. In country meadows pearl’d with dew,
    And set about with lilies,
   There, filling maunds with cowslips, you
    May find your Amaryllis.

Her. What have the meads to do with thee,
    Or with thy youthful hours?
   Live thou at Court, where thou mayst be
    The queen of men, not flowers.

Let country wenches make ’em fine
 With posies, since ’tis fitter
For thee with richest gems to shine,
 And like the stars to glitter.

Ama. You set too high a rate upon
    A shepherdess so homely.
Her. Believe it, dearest, there’s not one
    I’ th’ Court that’s half so comely.

   I prithee stay. Ama. I must away;
    Let’s kiss first, then we’ll sever.
Ambo. And though we bid adieu to-day,
    We shall not part for ever.

Maunds, baskets.

1069. To Julia

Help me, Julia, for to pray,
Matins sing, or matins say:
This, I know, the fiend will fly
Far away, if thou be’st by.
Bring the holy water hither,
Let us wash and pray together;
When our beads are thus united,
Then the foe will fly affrighted.

Beads, prayers.

1070. To Roses in Julia’s Bosom

Roses, you can never die,
Since the place wherein ye lie,
Heat and moisture mix’d are so
As to make ye ever grow.

1071. To the Honoured Master Endymion Porter

When to thy porch I come and ravish’d see
The state of poets there attending thee,
Those bards and I, all in a chorus sing:
We are thy prophets, Porter, thou our king.

1072. Speak in Season

When times are troubled, then forbear; but speak
When a clear day out of a cloud does break.

1073. Obedience

The power of princes rests in the consent
Of only those who are obedient:
Which if away, proud sceptres then will lie
Low, and of thrones the ancient majesty.

1074. Another of the Same

No man so well a kingdom rules as he
Who hath himself obeyed the sovereignty.

1075. Of Love

1. Instruct me now what love will do.
2. ’Twill make a tongueless man to woo.
1. Inform me next, what love will do.
2. ’Twill strangely make a one of two.
1. Teach me besides, what love will do.
2. ’Twill quickly mar, and make ye too.
1. Tell me now last, what love will do.
2. ’Twill hurt and heal a heart pierc’d through.

1076. Upon Trap

Trap of a player turn’d a priest now is:
Behold a sudden metamorphosis.
If tithe-pigs fail, then will he shift the scene,
And from a priest turn player once again.

1080. The School or Pearl of Putney, the Mistress of All Singular Manners, Mistress Portman

Whether I was myself, or else did see
Out of myself that glorious hierarchy;
Or whether those, in orders rare, or these
Made up one state of sixty Venuses;
Or whether fairies, syrens, nymphs they were,
Or muses on their mountain sitting there;
Or some enchanted place, I do not know,
Or Sharon, where eternal roses grow.
This I am sure: I ravished stood, as one
Confus’d in utter admiration.
Methought I saw them stir, and gently move,
And look as all were capable of love;
And in their motion smelt much like to flowers
Inspir’d by th’ sunbeams after dews and showers.
There did I see the reverend rectress stand,
Who with her eye’s gleam, or a glance of hand,
Those spirits raised; and with like precepts then,
As with a magic, laid them all again.
A happy realm! When no compulsive law,
Or fear of it, but love keeps all in awe.
Live you, great mistress of your arts, and be
A nursing mother so to majesty,
As those your ladies may in time be seen,
For grace and carriage, everyone a queen.
One birth their parents gave them; but their new,
And better being, they receive from you.
Man’s former birth is graceless; but the state
Of life comes in, when he’s regenerate.

1081. To Perenna

Thou say’st I’m dull; if edgeless so I be,
I’ll whet my lips, and sharpen love on thee.

1082. On Himself

Let me not live if I not love:
Since I as yet did never prove
Where pleasures met, at last do find
All pleasures meet in womankind.

1083. On Love

That love ’twixt men does ever longest last
Where war and peace the dice by turns do cast.

1084. Another on Love

Love’s of itself too sweet; the best of all
Is, when love’s honey has a dash of gall.

1086. Upon Chub

When Chub brings in his harvest, still he cries,
“Aha, my boys! here’s meat for Christmas pies!”
Soon after he for beer so scores his wheat,
That at the tide he has not bread to eat.

1087. Pleasures Pernicious

Where pleasures rule a kingdom, never there
Is sober virtue seen to move her sphere.

1088. On Himself

A wearied pilgrim, I have wandered here
Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but one year;
Long I have lasted in this world, ’tis true,
But yet those years that I have lived, but few.
Who by his grey hairs doth his lusters tell,
Lives not those years, but he that lives them well.
One man has reach’d his sixty years, but he
Of all those threescore, has not liv’d half three.
He lives, who lives to virtue; men who cast
Their ends for pleasure, do not live, but last.

Luster, five years.

1089. To M. Laurence Swetnaham

Read thou my lines, my Swetnaham; if there be
A fault, ’tis hid if it be voic’d by thee.
Thy mouth will make the sourest numbers please:
How will it drop pure honey speaking these!

1090. His Covenant; or, Protestation to Julia

Why dost thou wound and break my heart,
As if we should for ever part?
Hast thou not heard an oath from me,
After a day, or two, or three,
I would come back and live with thee?
Take, if thou dost distrust that vow,
This second protestation now.
Upon thy cheek that spangled tear,
Which sits as dew of roses there,
That tear shall scarce be dried before
I’ll kiss the threshold of thy door.
Then weep not, sweet; but thus much know,
I’m half return’d before I go.

1091. On Himself

I will no longer kiss,
  I can no longer stay;
The way of all flesh is
  That I must go this day.
Since longer I can’t live,
  My frolic youths, adieu;
My lamp to you I’ll give,
  And all my troubles too.

1092. To the Most Accomplished Gentleman, M. Michael Oulsworth

Nor think that thou in this my book art worst,
Because not plac’d here with the midst, or first.
Since fame that sides with these, or goes before
Those, that must live with thee for evermore;
That fame, and fame’s rear’d pillar, thou shalt see
In the next sheet, brave man, to follow thee.
Fix on that column then, and never fall,
Held up by Fame’s eternal pedestal.

In the next sheet. See 1129.

1093. To His Girls, Who Would Have Him Sportful

Alas! I can’t, for tell me, how
Can I be gamesome, aged now?
Besides, ye see me daily grow
Here, winter-like, to frost and snow;
And I, ere long, my girls, shall see
Ye quake for cold to look on me.

1094. Truth and Falsehood

Truth by her own simplicity is known,
Falsehood by varnish and vermilion.

1095. His Last Request to Julia

I have been wanton and too bold, I fear,
To chafe o’ermuch the virgin’s cheek or ear.
Beg for my pardon, Julia: he doth win
Grace with the gods who’s sorry for his sin.
That done, my Julia, dearest Julia, come
And go with me to choose my burial room:
My fates are ended; when thy Herrick dies,
Clasp thou his book, then close thou up his eyes.

1096. On Himself

One ear tingles; some there be
That are snarling now at me:
Be they those that Homer bit,
I will give them thanks for it.

1097. Upon Kings

Kings must be dauntless; subjects will contemn
Those who want hearts and wear a diadem.

1098. To His Girls

Wanton wenches, do not bring
For my hairs black colouring:
For my locks, girls, let ’em be
Grey or white, all’s one to me.

1100. To His Brother, Nicholas Herrick

What others have with cheapness seen and ease
In varnish’d maps, by th’ help of compasses,
Or read in volumes and those books with all
Their large narrations incanonical,
Thou hast beheld those seas and countries far,
And tell’st to us what once they were, and are.
So that with bold truth thou can’st now relate
This kingdom’s fortune, and that empire’s fate:
Can’st talk to us of Sharon, where a spring
Of roses have an endless flourishing;
Of Sion, Sinai, Nebo, and with them
Make known to us the new Jerusalem;
The Mount of Olives, Calvary, and where
Is, and hast seen, thy Saviour’s sepulchre.
So that the man that will but lay his ears
As inapostate to the thing he hears,
Shall by his hearing quickly come to see
The truth of travels less in books than thee.

Large, exaggerated.
Incanonical, untrustworthy.

1101. The Voice and Viol

Rare is the voice itself: but when we sing
To th’ lute or viol, then ’tis ravishing.

1102. War

If kings and kingdoms once distracted be,
The sword of war must try the sovereignty

1103. A King and No King

That prince who may do nothing but what’s just,
Rules but by leave, and takes his crown on trust.

1104. Plots Not Still Prosperous

All are not ill plots that do sometimes fail;
Nor those false vows which ofttimes don’t prevail.

1105. Flattery

What is’t that wastes a prince? example shows,
’Tis flattery spends a king, more than his foes.

1109. Excess

Excess is sluttish: keep the mean; for why?
Virtue’s clean conclave is sobriety.

Conclave, guard.

1111. The Soul Is the Salt

The body’s salt the soul is; which when gone,
The flesh soon sucks in putrefaction.

1117. Abstinence

Against diseases here the strongest fence
Is the defensive virtue, abstinence.

1118. No Danger to Men Desperate

When fear admits no hope of safety, then
Necessity makes dastards valiant men.

1119. Sauce for Sorrows

Although our suffering meet with no relief,
An equal mind is the best sauce for grief.

1120. To Cupid

I have a leaden, thou a shaft of gold;
Thou kill’st with heat, and I strike dead with cold.
Let’s try of us who shall the first expire;
Or thou by frost, or I by quenchless fire:
Extremes are fatal where they once do strike,
And bring to th’ heart destruction both alike.

1121. Distrust

Whatever men for loyalty pretend,
’Tis wisdom’s part to doubt a faithful friend.

1123. The Mount of the Muses

After thy labour take thine ease,
Here with the sweet Pierides.
But if so be that men will not
Give thee the laurel crown for lot;
Be yet assur’d, thou shall have one
Not subject to corruption.

1124. On Himself

I’ll write no more of love; but now repent
Of all those times that I in it have spent.
I’ll write no more of life; but wish ’twas ended,
And that my dust was to the earth commended.

1125. To His Book

Go thou forth, my book, though late:
Yet be timely fortunate.
It may chance good luck may send
Thee a kinsman, or a friend,
That may harbour thee, when I
With my fates neglected lie.
If thou know’st not where to dwell,
See, the fire’s by: farewell.

1126. The End of His Work

Part of the work remains; one part is past:
And here my ship rides, having anchor cast.

1127. To Crown It

My wearied bark, O let it now be crown’d!
The haven reach’d to which I first was bound.

1128. On Himself

The work is done: young men and maidens, set
Upon my curls the myrtle coronet
Washed with sweet ointments: thus at last I come
To suffer in the Muses’ martyrdom;
But with this comfort, if my blood be shed,
The Muses will wear blacks when I am dead.

Blacks, mourning garments.

1129. The Pillar of Fame

Fame’s pillar here, at last, we set,
Outduring marble, brass, or jet.
 Charm’d and enchanted so
 As to withstand the blow
  O f o v e r t h r o w;
  Nor shall the seas,
  O r o u t r a g e s
  Of storms o’erbear
  What we uprear.
  Tho’ kingdoms fall,
 This pillar never shall
 Decline or waste at all;
But stand for ever by his own
Firm and well-fix’d foundation.

---

To his book’s end this last line he’d have placed:
Jocund his muse was, but his life was chaste.