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As those idolatrous flatterers, which still
| As mine: who have with amorous delicacies Their prince's styles which many names fulfill, Refind thee into a blissful paradise. Whence they no tribute have, and bear no sway. 'Thy graces and good works my creatures be, Sach services I offer as shall pay
I planted knowledge and life's tree in thee : Themselves, I hate dead names: oh, then let me Which, oh I shall strangers taste? Must I, alas ! Favourite in ordinary, or no favourite be.
Frame and enamel plate, and drink in glass ?
As that, which from chaf'd muskat's pores doth trill,
And on her neck her skin such lustre sets, Her vedded channel's bosom; and there chide, They seem no sweat drops, but pearl coronets. And bend her brows, and swell, if any bough Rank sweaty froth thy mistress' brow defiles, Do but stoop down to kiss her utmost brow: Like spermatic issue of ripe menstruous biles. Yet if her often gnawing kisses win
Or like the skum, which by need's lawless law The traitorous banks to gape and let her in, Enforc'd, Sanserra's starved inen did draw She rusheth violently, and doth divorce
From parboil'd shoes and boots, and all the rest, Her from her native and her long-kept course, Which were with any sovereign fatness bless'd; And roars and braves it, and in gallant scorn, And liké vile stones lying in saffron'd tin, In flattering eddies promising return,
Or warts, or wheels, it hangs upon her skin. She floats her channel, which thenceforth is dry ; Round as the world 's her head, on every side, Then say I, “ that is she, and this am I.”
Like to the fatal ball which fell on Ide: Yet let not thy deep bitterness beget
Or that, whereof God had such jealousy, Careless despair in me, for that will whet
As for the ravishing thereof we die. My mind to scom; and, oh! love dall'd with pain Thy head is like a rough-hewn statue of jet, Was ne'er so wise, nor well arm'd, as disdain. Where marks for eyes, nose, 'mouth, are yet scarce Then with new eyes I shall survey and spy Death in thy cheeks, and darkness in thine eye: Like the first Chaos, or flat seeming face Though hope breed faith and love, thus taught I Of Cynthia, when the Earth's shadows her embrace. sball,
Like Proserpine's white beauty-keeping chest, As nations do from Rome, from thy love fall; Or Jove's best fortune's urn, is her fair breast. My hate sball outgrow thine, and utterly
Thine 's like worm-eaten trunks cloth'd in seal's I will renounce thy dalliance : and when I
skin, Am the recusant, in that resolute state
Or grave, that's dust without, and stink witbin. What hurts it me to be excommunicate?
And like that slender stalk, at whose end stands
Of men late scourg'd for madness, or for sin;
Like sun-parch'd quarters on the city gate,
Such is thy tann'd skin's lainentable state: Nature's lay idiot, I taught thee to love,
And like a bunch of ragged carrots stand And in that sophistry, oh! how thou dost prove The short swoln fingers of thy mistress' hand. Too subtle! Fool, thou did'st not understand Then like the chymic's masculine equal fire, The mystic language of the eye nor hand : Which in the limbeck's warm womb doth inspire Nor could'st thou judge the difference of the air Into th' earth's worthless dirt a soul of gold, Of sighs, and say, this lies, this sounds despair : Such cherishing heat her best-lov'd part doth hold. Nor by th' eye's water know a malady
Thine 's like the dread mouth of a fired gun, Desperately bot, or changing feverously.
Or like hot liquid metals newly run
Into clay moulds, or like to that Etna,
As a worm sucking an envenom'd sore:
Doth not thy fearful hand in feeling quake, To every suitor, “ I, if iny friends agree;" As one which gathering flowers still fears a snake » Since household charms thy husband's name to teach Is not your last act harsh and violent, Were all the love tricks that thy wit could reach : As when a plough a stony ground doth rent? And since an hour's discourse could scarce have made So kiss good turtles, so devoutly nice One answer in thee, and that ill-array'd
A priest is in his handling sacrifice, In broken proverbs and torn sentences;
And nice in searching wounds the surgeon is, Thou art not by so many duties his,
As we, when we embrace, or touch, or kiss : (That, from the world's common having sever'd thee, Leave her, and I will leave comparing thus, Inlaid thee, neither to be seen por see)
She and comparisons are odious. VOL. V.
When you are gone, and reason gone with you,
Then Fantasy is queen, and soul, and all;
She can present joys meaner than you do ;
Convenient, and more proportional.
So if I dream I bave you, I have you: No spring, nor summer's beauty, bath such grace,
For all our joys are but fantastical, As I have seen in one autumual face.
And so I 'scape the pain, for pain is true; Young beauties force our loves, and that's a rape;
And sleep, which locks up sense, doth lock out all. This doth but counsel, yet you cannot ’scape.
After such a fruition I shall wake, If 't were a shame to love, here 't were no shame :
And, but the waking, nothing shall repent; Affections here take reverence's name.
And shall to love more thankful sonnets make, Were her first years the golden age; that 's true.
Than if more honour, tears, and pains were spent. But now she's gold oft try'd, and ever new,
But, dearest heart, and, dearer image, stay, That was her torrid and inflaming time;
Alas! true joys at best are dreams enough; This is her habitable tropic clime. Fair eyes; who asks more heat than comes from Though you stay here, you pass too fast away:
For even at first life's taper is a souff. He in a fever wishes pestilence. [hence,
Fill'd with her love, may I be rather grown Call not these wrinkles graves: if graves they were,
Mad with much heart, than idiot with none
Vow'd to this trench, like an anachorit.
LANGUAGE, thou art too narrow, and too weak
To ease us now, great sorrows cannot speak. Where no voluptuousness, yet all delight.
If we could sigh out accents, and weep words, In all her words, unto all hearers fit,
Grief wears and lessens, that tear's breath affords. You may at revels, you at councils sit.
Sad hearts, the less they seem, the more they are, This is Love's timber, youth his underwood;
(So guiltiest men stand mutest at the bar) There he, as wine in June, enrages blood,
Not that they know not, feel not their estate, Which then comes seasonablest, when our taste
But extreme sense bath made them desperate; And appetite to other things is past.
Sorrow, to whom we owe all that we be, Xerxes' strange Lydian love, the platane tree, Tyrant in th' fifth and greatest monarchy,
Was lov'd for age, none being so old as she, Was 't that she did possess all hearts before, Or else because, being young, nature did bless Thou hast kill'd her, to make thy empire more?
Her youth with age's glory-barrenness. Knew'st thou some would, that knew her not; lament, If we love things long sought; age is a thing,
As in a deluge perish th' innocent?
But thou must raze it too, that was undone ?
Hadst thou stay'd there, and look d out at her eyes, But name not winter-faces, whose skin's slack; All had ador'd thee, that now from tbee flies;
Lank, as an unthrift's purse, but a soul's sack : For they let out more light than they took in, Whose eyes seek light within; for all here's shade; They told not when, but did the day begin; Whose mouths are holes, rather worn out than she was too saphirine and clear for thee; made;
Clay, flint, and jet now thy fit dwellings be: Whose every tooth to a several place is gone
Alas ! she was too pure, but not too weak; To vex the soul at resurrection;
Who e'er saw crystal ordnance but would break? Name not these living death-heads unto me, And if we be thy conquest, by ber fall For these not ancient but antique be:
Th' hast lost thy end, in her we perish all: I bate extremes : yet I had rather stay
Or if we live, we live but to rebel, With tombs than cradles, to wear out the day. That know her better nor, who knew her well. Since such Love's natural station is, may still
If we should vapour out, and pine and die, My love descend, and journey down the hill;
Since she first went, that were not misery : Not panting after growing beauties; so
She chang'd our world with her's: now she is gone I shall ebb on with them, who homeward go. Mirth and prosperity's oppression :
For of all moral virtues she was all,
That ethics speak of virtues cardinal.
Her soul was paradise: the cherubin
Set to keep it was Grace, that kept out Sin:
She hari no more than let in Death, for we
All reap consumption from one fruitful tree: IMAGE of her, whom I love more than she,
God took her bence, lest some of us should love Whose fair impression in my faithful heart
Her, like that plant, him and his laws above: Makes me her medal, and makes her love me, And when we tears, he mercy shed in this,
As kings do coins, to which their stamps impart To raise our minds to Heav'n, where now she is : The value: go, and take my heart from hence, Whom if her virtues would have let her stay,
· Which now is grown too great and good for me. We'd had a saint, have now a holiday. Honours oppress weak spirits, and our sense Her heart was that strange bush, where sacred fire,
Strong objects dull; the more, the less we see. Religion, did not consume, but inspire
Sach piety, so chaste use of God's day,
Having by subtle fire a soul out-pulld,
I would not spit to quench the fire they 're in,
For thou wilt love me less, when they are gone;
Which hath divided Heaven in tenements, (rents
So full, that though he pass them all in sin,
He leaves himself no room to enter in.
But if, when all his art and time is spent,
Receive from him the doom ungrudgingly,
Thou say'st, alas ! the gold doth still remain,
Though it be chang'd, and put into a chain; Nor, that in colour it was like thy hair,
So in the first fall'n angels resteth still Armlets of that thou may'st still let me wear : Wisdom and knowledge, but 't is turn'd to ill: Nor, that thy hand it oft embrac'd and kiss'd, As these should do good works, and should provide For so it had that good, which oft I miss'd : Necessities; but now must nurse thy pride : Nor for that silly old morality,
And they are still bad angels ; mine are none:
Yet with such anguish, as her only son
Unto the fire these martyrs I betray.
As would have lov'd and worshipp'd you alone: Shall these twelve innocents by thy severe One that would suffer hunger, nakedness, Sentence (dread judge) my sin's great burden bear? Yea death, ere he would make your number less. Shall they be damn'd, and in the furnace thrown, But I am guilty of your sad decay: And punish'd for offences not their own?
May your few fellows longer with me stay. They save pot me, they do not ease my pains, But oh, thou wretched finder, whom I hate When in that Hell they're burnt and tyd in chains: | So, that I almost pity thy estate, Were they but crowns of France, I cared not, Gold being the beaviest metal amongst all, Por most of them their natural country rot May my most heavy curse upon thee fall : I think possesseth, they come here to us,
Here fetter'd, manacled, and hang'd in chains, So pale, so lame, so lean, so ruinous;
First may'st thou be; then chain’d to hellish pains ; And howsoe'er French kings most Christian be, Or be with foreign gold brib'd to betray Their crowns are circumcis'd most Jewishly ; Thy country, and fail both of it and thy pay.“ Or were they Spanish stamps still travelling, May the next thing, thou stoop'st to reach, contain That are become as catholic as their king, Poison, whose nimble fume rot thy moist brain : Those unlick'd bear-whelps, unfild pistolets, Or libels, or some interdicted thing, That (more than cannon-shot) avails or lets, Which, negligently kept, thy ruin bring. Whách, negligently left anrounded, look
Lust-bred diseases rot thee; and dwell with thee Like many angled figures in the book
Itching desire, and no ability.
All mischief, that all devils ever thought;
Gold is restorative, restore it then: Op were it such gold as that, wherewithall
But if that from it thou be'st loth to part, Almighty chymics from each mineral
Because 't is cordial, would 't were at thy heart,
Alas ! the darkest magic cannot do it,
And that great Hell to boot are shadows to it.
Should Cynthia quit thee, Venus, and each star, COME, Fates; I fear you not. All, whom I owe,
It would not form one thought dark as mine are; Are paid but you. Then 'rest me ere I go.
I could lend them obscureness now, and say
Out of myself, there should be no more day.
Did not the tire within me force a light.
Oh Love, that fire and darkness should be mix'd, Else lovers should uot brave death's pains, and live:Or to thy triumphs such strange torments fix'd ! But 't is a rule,“ death comes not to relieve."
Is 't because thou thyself art blind, tbat we Or pale and wan death's terrours, are they laid
Thy martyrs must no more each other see? So dep in lovers, they make death afraid?
Or tak’st thou pride to break us on thy wheel, Or (the least comfort) hare I company?
And view old Chaos in the pains we feel? Or can the Fates love death, as well as me?
Or have we left undone some mutual right, Yes, Fates do silk unto her distall pay
That thus with parting thou seek'st us to spite? For ransom, which tax they on us do lay.
No, no. The fault is mine, impute it to me, Lore gives her youth, which is the reason why
Or rather to conspiring Destiny ; Youths, for her sake, some wither and some die.
Which (since I lov'd) for me before decreed, Poor Death can nothing give; yet for her sake,
That I should suffer, when I lov'd indeed : Still in her turn, he doth a lover take.
And therefore sooner now, than I can say And if Death should prove faise, she fears him not, I saw the golden fruit, 't is wrapt away: Our Muses to redeem her she bath got.
Or as I'd watch'd one drop in the vast stream, That fatal night we last kiss'd, I thus pray'd,
And I left wealthy only in a dream. (Or rather thus despair’d, I should have said)
Yet, Love, thou 'rt blinder than thyself in this, Kisses, and yet despair. The forbid tree
To vex my dove-like friend for my amiss :
And, where one sad truth may expiate
So blinded Justice doth, when favourites fall,
vourites all. Here grief wants a fresh wit, for mine being spent, Was 't not enough that thou didst dart thy fires And my sighs weary, groans are all my rent;
Into our bloods, inflaming our desires, Unable longer to endure the pain,
And mad'st us sigh and blow, and pant, and They break like thunder, and do bring down rain.
burn, Thus, till dry tears solder mine eyes, I weep:
And then thyself into our flames didst turn ? And then I dream, how you securely sleep,
Was 't not enough, that thou didst hazard us And in your dreams do laugh at me. I hate,
To paths in love so dark and dangerous: And pray Love all may: he pities my state,
And those so ambush'd round with houschold spies, But says, I therein no revenge shall find ;
And over all thy husband's tow'ring eyes The Sun would shine, though all the world were blind. Inflam'd with th' ugly sweat of jealousy, Yet, to try my bate, love show'd me your tear;
Yet went we not still on is constancy? And I had dy'd, had not your smile been there.
Have we for this kept guards, like spy o'er spy? Your frown undoes me; your smile is my wealth; Had correspondence, whilst the foe stood by ? And as you please to look, I have my health.
Stoll'n (more to sweeten them) our many blisses Methought Love pitying me, when he saw this,
Of meetings, conference, embracements, kisses? Gave me your hands, the backs and palins to kiss. Shadow'd with negligence our best respects : That cur'd me not, but to bear pain gave strength; Of becks, winks, looks, and often under boards
Varied our language through all dialects
Spoke dialogues with our feet far from our words? That his compassion still prov'd greater woe:
Have we prov'd all the secrets of our art, For then I dream'd I was in bed with you,
Yea, thy pale inwards, and thy panting heart? But durst not feel, for fear 't should not be true.
And after all this passed purgatory, This merits not our anger, had it been;
Must sad divorce make us the vulgar story? The queen of chastity was naked seen:
First let our eyes be riveted quite through And in bed not to feel the pain, I took,
Our turning brains, and both our lips grow to : Was more than for Actæon not to look.
Let our arms clasp like ivy, and our fear And that breast, which lay ope, I did not know,
Freeze us together, that we may stick here;
Till Fortuue, that would ruin us with the deed,
I have accus'd, should such a mischief do.
Ob Fortune, thou 'rt not worth my least exclaim,
And plague enough thou hast in thy own name : HIS PARTING FROM HER.
Do thy great worst, my friends and I have arms,
Though not against thy strokes, against thy barus. Since she must go, and I must mourn, come Night, Rend us in sunder, thou canst not divide Environ me with darkness, whilst I write :
Our bodies so, but that our souls are tyd, Shadow that Hell unto me, which alone
And we can love by letters still, and gifts, I am to suffer, when my love is gone.
And thougbts, and dreams; love never wanteth shifts.
I will not look upon the quick’ning Sun,
A TALE OF A CITIZEN AND HIS WIFE.
I sing no barm, good sooth, to any wight, The summer, how it enripen'd the year;
To lord, to fool, cuckold, beggar, or knight, And autumn, what our golden harvests were. To peace-teaching lawyer, proctor, or brave The winter I'll not think on to spite thee,
Reformed or reduced captain, knare, But count it a lost season, so shall she.
Officer, juggler, or jastice of peace, And, dearest friend, since we must part, drown night Juror or judye; I touch no fat sow's grease; With hope of day; burthens well borne are light.
I am no libeller, nor will be any, The cold and darkness longer hang somewhere,
But (like a true man) say there are too many : Yet Phæbus equally lights all the sphere.
I fear not ore tenus, for my tale And what we cannot in like portion pay,
Nor count nor counsellor will red or pale. The world enjoys in mass, and so we may.
A citizen and his wife th' other day, Re ever then yourself, and let no woe
Both riding on one horse, upon the way Win on your health, your youth, your beauty: so
I overtook ; the wench a pretty peat, Declare yourself base Fortune's enemy,
And (by her eye) well fitting for the feat: No less be your contempt than her inconstancy;
I saw the lecherous citizen turn back That I may grow enamour'd on your mind, His head, and on his wife's lip steal a smack. When my own thoughts I here neglected find. Whence apprehending that the inan was kind, And this to th' comfort of my dear I vow,
Riding before to kiss his wife behind, My deeds shall still be, what my deeds are now; To get acquaintance with him I began, The poles shall move to teach me ere / start,
And sort discourse fit for so fine a man; And wen I change my love, I'll change my heart; I ask'd the number of the plaguy bill, Nay, if I wax but cold in my desire,
Ask'd if the custom-farmers held out still, Think Heav'n hath motion lost, and the world fire: Of the Virginian plot, and whether Ward Much more I could; but many words have made The traffic of the midland seas had marrd; That oft suspected, which men most persuade :
Whether the Critain Burse did fill apace, Take therefore all in this; I love so true,
And likely were to give th’ Exchange disgrace; As I will never look for less in you.
Of new-built Aldgate, and the Moorfield crosses,
As an old courtier worn to his last suit)
Replies with only yeas and nays; at last
On tradesmen's gains; that set his tongue a going,
In court nor city now.” She sinil'd, and I, To vomit gall in slander, swell her veins
And (in my conscience) both, gave him the lie With calumny, that Hell itself disdains,
In one met thought. But he went on apace, Es her continual practice, does her best,
And at the present times with such a face To tear opinion er'n out of the breast
He rail'd, as fray'd me; for he gave no praise Of dearest friends, and (which is worse than vile) To any but iny lord of Essex' days: Sticks jealousy in wedlock; her own child Call'd those the age of action. “True," quoth be, Scapes not the show'rs of envy: to repeat
“ There's now as great an itch of bravery, The monstrous fashions, how, were alire to eat And heat of taking up, but cold lay down; Dear reputation. Would to God she wera
For put to push of pay, away they run: But half so loth to act vice, as to hear
Our only city-trades of hope now are My mild reproof! Liv'd Mantuan now again, Bawds, tavern-keepers, whore, and scrivener; That female mastix to limn with his peu
The much of privileg'd kinsmen, and the store This she-Chimera, that hath eyes of fire,
Of fresh protections, make the rest all poor: Burning with anger, (anger feeds desire)
Io the first state of their creation Tongu'd like the night-crow, whose ill-boding cries Though many stoutly stand, yet proves not one Give out for nothing but new injuries.
A rigbteous pay-master.” Thus ran be on Her breath like to the juice in Tenarus,
In a continu'd rage: so void of reason That blasts the springs, though ne'er so prosperous. Seem'd his harsb talk, I sweat for fear of treason. Her hands, I know not bow, usd more to spill And (troth) bow could I less ? when in the prayer The food of others, than herself to fill.
for the protection of the wise lord mayor But, oh! her mind, that Orcus, which includes And his wise brethren's worships, when one prayeth, Legions of mischief, countless multitudes
He swore that none could say amen with faith. Of former curses, projects unmade up,
To get him off from what I glow'd to hear, Abuses yet unfashion'd, thoughts corrupt,
(lu happy time) an angel did appear, Misshapen cavils, palpable untruths,
The bright sign of a lov'd and well-try'd inn, Inevitable errours, self-accusing loaths :
Where many citizens with their wives had been These, like those atoms swarming in the sun,
Well us’d and often : here I pray'd him stay, Throng in her bosom for creation.
To take some due refreshment by the way. 1 blush to give her half ber due; yet say,
Look, how he look'd that hid his gold, bis hope, No poison's half se bad as Julia.
And at 's return found nothing but a rope;