My heat of youth, and love, and pride, And made me then converse with toys I was persuaded in those days There was no crown like love and bays. But now my youth and pride are gone, and cares come creeping on, And age And business checks my love, What need I take a needless toil, To spend my labour, time, and oil, For, now the cause is ta'en away, "Tis but a folly now for me To spend my time and industry For when I think I have done well, Whe'r't be at me, or it. Great madness 'tis to be a drudge, When those that cannot write, dare judge. Besides the danger that ensu'th, To be call'd poet, and wear bays, And factor turn of songs and plays; Wit, only good to sport and sing, Give me the wit that can't speak sense, Ne'er learn'd, but of his grannam; His thousand pound per annum, The Upon his Mare, stolen by a Trooper, in 1644. WHY let her go.-I'll vex myself no more, Lest my heart break, as did my stable door. "Twas but a mare; if she be gone, she's gone: "Tis not a mare that I do stand upon. Now, by this cross! I am so temperate grown, I would not rack invention for a curse To plague the thief, for fear I make him worse: In charity I wish him no more pain, But to restore me home my mare again, And, 'cause I would not have good customs alter, I wish who has the mare may have the halter. SIR ROBERT HOWARD, A younger son of Thomas earl of Berkshire, was probably born about 1622, and educated at Magdalen College, Oxford. Having shared in his father's sufferings, and distinguished himself by his loyalty and courage, he became, after the Restoration, a knight, a M.P.and a place-man, and died in 1698. For a list of his dramatic and other works, and farther particulars of his life, vide Wood's Ath. and the Biog. Dramat. His poems, consisting of songs and sonnets, panegyrics, translations, &c. were published, together 'with his first comedy ("the Blind Lady") in 1660: but Sir Robert is principally known to posterity by his controversy with his brother-in-law Dryden. TO THE INCONSTANT CYNTHIA. A SONG. * IN thy fair breast, and once fair soul, That I no more could read my own. When you had thrown the bond away? Nor must we only part in joy, Our tears as well must be unkind : Weep you, that could such truth destroy, And I, that could such falseness find! Thus we must unconcern'd remain In our divided joys and pain. Yet we may love, but on this different score, You what I am, I what you were before. THE RESOLUTION. [From 8 stanzas.] No, Cynthia, never think I can Your sunshine love to every man, None but the duller Persians kneel, Whilst others equal influence feel, Though I resolve to love no more, |