ii

;

m

•is is he whose infimtMuse Ijeaann hraue -the World, beforej-ear&s stit'd him- wiujh praise he sle.wnt^scornes io make hi. negq fauors or opinion o-fjhe 'Tvmes ,

-V^Z* 1 I-* 1 • -/ ' 1

J.etje.w by^gcocLmerthawL bine more appro uct Mom so (-vnseene, so generally loud

C ^T^ T

bvJ fuif ooc sebfi^ mlctm rnenfis vn

$

THE POETRY

OF

GEORGE WITHER

EDITED BY

FRANK SIDGWICK

VOL. II

LONDON A. H. BULLEN

47 GREAT RUSSELL STREET, W.C. 1902

v

RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, LONDON & BUNGAY.

V 2,

CONTENTS OF VOL. II

FAIR VIRTUE — PAGE

The Stationer to the Reader 3

Philarete to his Mistress ... ... ... 7

The Mistress of Philarete ... ... ... n

A Postscript ... ... ... ... ... 173

A MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS, ETC. —

1. Of the Invention of the Nine Muses ... 174

2. Of the Labours of Hercules ... ... 174

3. Being left by a Gentleman in his Dining-

room ... ... ... ... ... 175

4. An Epitaph upon the Lady Scott ... 177

5. An Epitaph upon a Woman and her

Child ... ... ... ... ... 177

6. A Christmas Carol 178

7. An Epitaph upon the Porter of a Prison 181

8. A Sonnet upon a Stolen Kiss 182

9. An Epitaph upon Abram Goodfellow ... 182

10. An Epitaph upon a Gentlewoman ... 183

11. An Epitaph upon a Child ... ... 184

12. A Song 184

13. A Dream ... ... ... ... ... 189

14. Certain Verses written to his Loving

Friend ... ... ... ... ... 192

THE STATIONER'S POSTSCRIPT 201

NOTES TO VOL. II 205

APPENDICES 214

INDEX OF FIRST LINES 221

FAIRE-FIRTVE	i ' >
THE
MISTRESSE
OF
P H IL 'ARETE.
Written by
GEO: WITHER.
Catul. Carm. xv.
Istos, qui in plateay modo huc^ modo illuc In re pretereunt sua occupati.
LONDON,
Printed for lohn Grismand.
CIO.IOC.XXII.

Another title-page of 1622 gives " Himselfe " instead of Wither's

EDITIONS.

1622. Scarcely any collation is required in this poem ; it appeared in 1622, first by itself, the name on the title-page alone differing in two issues ; then bound up with some copies of the Juvenilia of that year ; the text in each case being identical.

1633. The Juvenilia of 1633 is a reprint, with hardly one variation from the previous text.

The Stationer to the Reader.

THIS being one of the author's first poems was composed many years agone, and unknown to him gotten out of his custody by an acquaintance of his: and coming lately to my hands without a name, it was thought to have so much resemblance of the maker, that many upon the first sight undertook to guess who was author of it, and persuaded that it was likely also to become profitable both to them and me.

Whereupon I got it authorized according to order, intending to publish it without further inquiry. But, attaining by chance a more perfect knowledge to whom it most properly belonged, I thought it fitting to acquaint him therewithal, and did so ; desiring also both his good-will to publish the same and leave to pass it under his name. Both which I found him very unwilling to permit, lest the seeming lightness of such a subject might somewhat disparage the more serious studies which he hath since undertaken.

Yet doubting, this being got out of his custody, some imperfecter copies might hereafter be scattered abroad in writing, or be, unknown to him, imprinted, 3

4 TO THE READER

he was pleased, upon my importunities, to conde scend that it might be published without his name. And his words were these : —

" When," said he, " I first composed it, I well liked thereof, and it well enough became my years ; but now I neither like nor dislike it. That, therefore, it should be divulged I desire not ; and whether it be, or whether, if it happen so, it be approved or no, I care not. For this I am sure of: howsoever it be valued it is worth as much as I prized it at ; likely it is also to be as beneficial to the world as the world hath been to me, and will be more than those who like it not ever deserved at my hands."

These were his speeches ; and, if you looked for a prologue, thus much he wished me to tell you in stead thereof; because, as he said, he himself had somewhat else to do. Yet, to acknowledge the truth, I was so earnest with him that, as busy as he would seem to be, I got him to write this epistle for me ; and have thereunto set my name ; which he wished me to confess, partly to avoid the occasion of belying my invention, and partly because he thought some of you would suppose so much.

I entreated him to explain his meaning in certain obscure passages ; but he told me how that were to take away the employment of his interpreters. Whereas, he would purposely leave somewhat remain ing doubtful, to see what Sir Politic Would-be and his companions could pick out of it.

I desired him also to set down, to what good pur poses this poem would serve ; but his reply was, how

TO THE READER 5

that would be well enough found out in the perusing by all such as had honest understandings : and they who are not so provided, he hopes will not read it. More I could not get from him.

Whether therefore this Mistress of Philarete be really a woman, shadowed under the name of Virtue ; or Virtue only, whose loveliness is represented by the beauty of an excellent woman ; or whether it meant both together, I cannot tell you. But, thus much I dare promise for your money : that here you shall find familiarly expressed both such beauties as young men are most entangled withal, and the excellency also of such as are most worthy their affection. That, seeing both impartially set forth by him that was capable of both, they might the better settle their love on the best.

Hereby also those women who desire to be truly beloved may know what makes them so to be ; and seek to acquire those accomplishments of the mind, which may endear them, when the sweetest features of a beautiful face shall be converted into deformities. And here is described that loveliness of theirs, which is the principal object of wanton affection, to no worse end but that those, who would never have looked on this poem (if virtue and goodness had been therein no otherwise represented than as they are objects of the soul) might, where they expected the satisfaction of their sensuality only, meet with that also which would insinuate into them an apprehension of more reasonable and most excellent perfections. Yea, whereas the common opinion of youth hath been

6 TO THE READER

that only old men, and such as are unable, or past delighting in a bodily loveliness, are those who are best capable of the mind's perfections ; and, that they do therefore so much prefer them before the other, because their age or stupidity hath deprived them of being sensible what pleasures they yield ; though this be the vulgar error, yet here it shall appear that he who was able to conceive the most excellent pleasingness which could be apprehended in a corporal beauty, found it, even when he was most enamoured with it, far short of that unexpressible sweetness which he discovered in a virtuous and well-tempered disposition. And if this' be not worth your money, keep it.

JOHN HARRIOT.

PHILARETE TO HIS MISTRESS.

HAIL, thou fairest of all creatures

Upon whom the sun doth shine,

Model of all rarest features

And perfections most divine. Thrice all hail, and blessed be Those that love and honour thee.

Of thy worth this rural story

Thy unworthy swain hath penn'd ;

And to thy ne'er-ending glory,

These plain numbers doth commend, IO

Which ensuing times shall warble,

When 'tis lost that's writ in marble. Though thy praise and high deservings Cannot all be here express'd, Yet my love and true observings Someway ought to be profess'd,

And where greatest love we see,

Highest things attempted be.

By thy beauty I have gained

To behold the best perfections ; 2O

By the love I have obtained,

To enjoy the best affections.

And my tongue to sing thy praise, Love and beauty thus doth raise. 7

8 PHIL ARETE TO HIS MISTRESS

What although in rustic shadows I a shepherd's breeding had ? And confined to these meadows So in homespun russet clad ?

Such as I have now and then

Dared as much as greater men. 30

Though a stranger to the Muses, Young, obscured, and despis'd : Yet such art thy love infuses, That I thus have poetiz'd.

Read, and be content to see

Thy admired power in me.

And, oh grant, thou sweetest beauty

Wherewith ever earth was grac'd,

That this trophy of my duty

May with favour be embrac'd : 40

And disdain not in these rhymes

To be sung to after-times.

Let those doters on Apollo

That adore the Muses so,

And like geese each other follow,

See what love alone can do. For in love-lays, grove and field Nor to schools nor courts will yield.

On this glass of thy perfection

If that any women pry, 50

Let them thereby take direction

To adorn themselves thereby.

PHILARETE TO HIS MISTRESS g

And if aught amiss they view, Let them dress themselves anew.

Young men shall by this acquainted

With the truest beauties grow,

So the counterfeit or painted

They may shun when them they know.

But the way all will not find,

For some eyes have, yet are blind. 60

Thee entirely I have loved, So thy sweetness on me wrought ; Yet thy beauty never moved 111 temptations in my thought,

But still did thy beauty's ray,

Sun-like, drive those fogs away.

Those that mistresses are named,

And for that suspected be,

Shall not need to be ashamed,

If they pattern take by thee ; 70

Neither shall their servants fear

Favours openly to wear.

Thou to no man favour deignest But what's fitting to bestow ; Neither servants entertainest That can ever wanton grow;

For the more they look on thee,

Their desires still bettered be.

This thy picture, therefore, show I

Naked unto every eye, go

io PHILARETE TO HIS MISTRESS

Yet no fear of rival know I, Neither touch of jealousy ;

For the more make love to thee,

I the more shall pleased be.

I am no Italian lover That will mew thee in a jail ; But thy beauty I discover, English-like, without a veil.

If thou may'st be won away,

Win and wear thee he that may. 90

Yet in this thou may'st believe me, So indifferent though I seem, Death with tortures would not grieve me More than loss of thy esteem ;

For if virtue me forsake,

All a scorn of me will make-

Then as I on thee relying

Do no changing fear in thee,

So, by my defects supplying,

From all changing keep thou me ; 100

That unmatched we may prove,

Thou for beauty, I for love.

Then while their loves are forgotten Who to pride and lust were slaves, And their mistresses quite rotten Lie unthought on in their graves.

Kings and queens, in their despite,

Shall to mind us take delight.

FAIR VIRTUE

OR

THE MISTRESS OF PHILARETE.

Two pretty rills do meet, and meeting make

Within one valley a large silver lake,

About whose banks the fertile mountains stood

In ages passed bravely crown'd with wood,

Which, lending cold-sweet shadows, gave it grace

To be accounted Cynthia's bathing-place,

And from her father Neptune's brackish court

Fair Thetis thither often would resort,

Attended by the fishes of the sea,

Which in those sweeter waters came to play. 10

There would the daughter of the sea-god dive ;

And thither came the land-nymphs every eve

To wait upon her, bringing for her brows

Rich garlands of sweet flowers and beechy boughs.

For pleasant was that pool, and n^ar it then Was neither rotten marsh nor boggy fen. It was nor overgrown with boist'rous sedge, Nor grew there rudely then along the edge A bending willow nor a prickly bush, Nor broadleaf d flag, nor reed, nor knotty rush ; 20

II

12 FAIR VIRTUE

But here, well order'd, was a grove with bowers : There grassy plots set round about with flowers. Here you might through the water see the land Appear, strow'd o'er with white or yellow sand. Yon, deeper was it ; and the wind by whiffs Would make it rise and wash the little cliffs, On which oft pluming sat, unfrighted than, The gaggling wildgoose and the snow-white swan : With all those flocks of fowls which to this day Upon those quiet waters breed and play. 30

For though those excellences wanting be, Which once it had, it is the same that we By transposition name the Ford of Arle, And out of which along a chalky marl That river trills whose waters wash the fort In which brave Arthur kept his royal court. North-east, not far from this great pool, there lies A tract of beechy mountains, that arise With leisurely- ascending to such height, As from their tops the warlike Isle of Wight 40

You in the ocean's bosom may espy, Though near two hundred furlongs thence it lie. The pleasant way, as up those hills you climb, Is strewed o'er with marjoram and thyme, Which grows unset. The hedgerows do not want The cowslip, violet, primrose, nor a plant That freshly scents, as birch both green and tall ; Low sallows, on whose bloomings bees do fall ; Fair woodbines, which about the hedges twine ; Smooth privet, and the sharp, sweet eglantine; 50

FAIR VIRTUE 13

With many moe, whose leaves and blossoms fair The earth adorn, and oft perfume the air.

When you unto the highest do attain, An intermixture both of wood and plain You shall behold, which, though aloft it lie, Hath downs for sheep and fields for husbandry. So much, at least, as little needeth more, If not enough to merchandise their store.

In every row hath Nature planted there Some banquet for the hungry passenger. 60

For here the hazel-nut and filbert grows ; There bulloes, and a little further sloes ; On this hand standeth a fair wilding-tree ; On that large thickets of black cherries be. The shrubby fields are raspice-orchards there, The new-fell'd woods like strawberry-gardens are : And had the king of rivers blest those hills With some small number of such pretty rills As flow elsewhere, Arcadia had not seen A sweeter plot of earth than this had been. 70

For what offence this place was scanted so Of springing waters, no record doth show, Nor have they old tradition left that tells ; But till this day at fifty-fathom wells The shepherds drink. And strange it was to hear Of any swain that ever lived there, Who^either in a pastoral ode had skill, Or knew to set his fingers to a quill.

1.52. 1622 and 1633 both give 'perfumes.' I have followed Gutch and Brydges in the text. L 62. 1622 omits 'a.'

14 FAIR VIRTUE

For rude they were who there inhabited ; And to a dull contentment being bred, 80

They no such art esteem'd, nor took much heed Of anything the world without them did.

E'en there, and in the least-frequented place Of all these mountains, is a little space Of pleasant ground hemm'd in with dropping trees, And those so thick that Phoebus scarcely sees The earth they grow on once in all the year, Nor what is done among the shadows there. Along those lonely paths, where never came Report of Pan or of Apollo's name, 90

Nor rumour of the Muses till of late, Some nymphs were wand'ring ; and by chance or

fate

Upon a laund arrived, where they met The little flock of pastor Philaret. They were a troop of beauties known well nigh Through all the plains of happy Britany. A shepherd's lad was he, obscure and young, Who, being first that ever there had sung, In homely verse expressed country loves, And only told them to the beechy groves, 100

As if to sound his name he never meant Beyond the compass that his sheep-walk went.

They saw not him, nor them perceived he, For in the branches of a maple-tree „

He shrouded sat, and taught the hollow hill To echo forth the music of his quill, Whose tattling voice redoubled so the sound, That where he was concealed they quickly found.

FAIR VIRTUE 15

And there they heard him sing a madrigal,

That soon betrayed his cunning to them all. 1 10

Full rude it was, no doubt, but such a song Those rustic and obscured shades among Was never heard, they say, by any ear, Until his Muses had inspired him there. Though mean and plain his country habit seemed, Yet by his song the ladies rightly deemed That either he had travelled abroad, Where swains of better knowledge make abode, Or else that some brave nymph, who used that grove, Had deigned to enrich him with her love. 120

Approaching nearer, therefore, to this swain, They him saluted, and he them again, In such good fashion as well seemed to be According to their state and his degree. Which greetings being passed, and much chat, Concerning him, the place, with this and that, He to an arbour doth those beauties bring, Where he them prays to sit, they him to sing, And to express that untaught country art, In setting forth the mistress of his heart, 130

Which they o'erheard him practise, when unseen He thought no ear had witness of it been.

At first, as much unable, he refused, And seemed willing to have been excused From such a task . ' * For, trust me, nymphs, " quoth he, "I would not purposely uncivil be, Nor churlish in denying what you crave ; But, as I hope great Pan my flock will save, I rather wish that I might, heard of none,

16 FAIR VIRTUE

Enjoy my music by myself alone ; 140

Or that the murmurs of some little flood,

Joined with the friendly echoes of the wood,

Might be the impartial umpires of my wit,

Than vent it where the world might hear of it.

And doubtless I had sung less loud while-eve,

Had I but thought of any such so near.

Not that I either wish obscurified

Her matchless beauty, or desire to hide

Her sweet perfections ; for by Love I swear,

The utmost happiness I aim at here, 150

Is but to compass worth enough to raise

A high-built trophy equal with her praise.

Which, fairest ladies, I shall hope in vain, For I was meanly bred on yonder plain ; And, though I can well prove my blood to be Deriv'd from no ignoble stems to me, Yet fate and time them so obscured and crost, That with their fortunes their esteem is lost : And whatsoe'er repute I strive to win, Now from myself alone it must begin. 160

For I have no estate, nor friends, nor fame, To purchase either credit to my name, Or gain a good opinion, though I do Ascend the height I shall aspire unto.

If any of those virtues yet I have, Which honour to my predecessors gave, There's all that's left me. And though some contemn Such needy jewels, yet it was for them My fair one did my humble suit affect, And deigned my adventurous love respect; 170

FAIR VIRTUE 17

And by their help I passage hope to make Through such poor things as I dare undertake.

But, you may say, what goodly thing, alas, Can my despised meanness bring to pass ? Or what great monument of honour raise To Virtue, in these vice-abounding days, In which a thousand times more honour finds Ignoble gotten means, than noble minds ? Indeed, the world affordeth small reward For honest minds, and therefore her regard 180

I seek not after ; neither do I care, If I have bliss, how others think I fare : For, so my thoughts have rest, it irks not me, Though none but I do know how blest they be. Here, therefore, in these groves and hidden plains, I pleased sit alone, and many strains I carol to myself these hills among, Where no man comes to interrupt my song. Whereas, if my rude lays make known I should Beyond their home, perhaps some carpers would, 190 Because they have not heard from whence we be, Traduce, abuse, and scoff both them and me. For if our great and learned shepherds, who Are graced with wit, and fame, and favours too, With much ado escape uncensur'd may, What hopes have I to pass unscoff 'd, I pray, Who yet unto the Muses am unknown, And live unhonour'd here among mine own ?

A gadding humour seldom taketh me To range out further than yon mountains be ; 2OO Nor hath applausive rumour born my name

VOL. II. 2

i8 FAIR VIRTUE

Upon the spreading wings of sounding fame. Nor can I think, fair nymphs, that you resort For other purpose than to make a sport At that simplicity which shall appear Among the rude untutor'd shepherds here.

I know that you my noble mistress ween At best a homely milk-maid on the green, Or some such country lass, as tasked stays At servile labour until holidays. 210

For poor men's virtues so neglected grow, And are now prized at a rate so low, As 'tis impossible you should be brought To let it with belief possess your thought, That any nymph, whose love might worthy be, Would deign to cast respective eyes on me. V You see I live possessing none of those Gay things with which the world enamour'd grows. To woo a courtly beauty I have neither Rings, bracelets, jewels, nor a scarf, nor feather. 220 I use no double-dyed cloth to wear ; No scrip embroider'd richly do I bear ; No silken belt, nor sheephook laid with pearls, To win me favour from the shepherds' girls ; No place of office or command I keep, But this my little flock of homely sheep ; And in a word, the sum of all my pelf Is this — I am the master of myself.

No doubt in courts of princes you have been, And all the pleasures of the palace seen. 230

There you beheld brave courtly passages Between heroes and their mistresses.

FAIR VIRTUE i?

You there, perhaps, in presence of the King,

Have heard his learned bards and poets sing.

And what contentment, then, can wood or field

To please your curious understandings yield?

I know you walked hither but to prove

What silly shepherds do conceive of love ;

Or to make trial how our simpleness

Can passion's force or beauty's power express ; 240

And when you are departed, you will joy

To laugh, or descant on the shepherd's boy.

But yet, I vow, if all the art I had Could any more esteem, or glory add To her unmatched worth, I would not weigh What you intended." " Prithee, lad," quoth they, "Distrustful of our court 'sy do not seem. Her nobleness can never want esteem, Nor thy concealed measures be disgraced, Though in a meaner person they were placed, 250 If thy too modestly refused quill But reach that height, which we suppose it will. Thy meanness or obscureness cannot wrong The nymph thou shall eternize in thy song. For, as it higher rears thy glory, that A noble mistress thou hast aimed at, So more unto her honour it will prove, That, whilst deceiving shadows others move, Her constant eyes could pass unmoved by The subtle time's bewitching bravery, 260

And those obscured virtues love in thee, That with despised meanness clouded be. Now, then, for her sweet sake, whose beauteous eye

20 FAIR VIRTUE

Hath filled thy soul with heavenly poesy, Sing in her praise some new inspired strain ; And, if within our power there shall remain A favour to be done may pleasure thee, , Ask, and obtain it, whatsoe'er it be."

"Fair ladies," quoth the lad, "such words as those Compel me can :" and, therewithal he rose, 270

Return'd them thanks, obeisance made, and than Down sat again, and thus to sing began.

You that at a blush can tell Where the best perfections dwell, And the substance can conjecture, By a shadow, or a picture, Come and try if you by this Know my mistress, who she is. For though I am far unable

Here to match Apelles' table, 280

Or draw Zeuxes' cunning lines; Who so painted Bacchus' vines That the hungry birds did muster Round the counterfeited cluster ; Though I vaunt not to inherit Petrarch's yet unequall'd spirit ; Nor to quaff the sacred well, Half so deep as Astrophel : Though the much-commended Celia, Lovely Laura, Stella, Delia, 290

Who in former times excell'd, Live in lines unparallel'd ;

1. 292. 1622 and 1633 read c unparaled.'

FAIR VIRTUE 21

Making us believe 'twere much,

Earth should yield another such;

Yet, assisted but by nature,

I essay to paint a creature

Whose rare worth in future years

Shall be prais'd as much as theirs.

Nor let any think amiss

That I have presumed this ; 300

For a gentle nymph is she,

And hath often honour' d me.

She's a noble spark of light,

In each part so exquisite,

Had she in times passed been

They had made her beauty's queen.

Then shall cowardly despair

Let the most unblemish'd fair,

For default of some poor art

Which her favour may impart, 310

And the sweetest beauty fade

That was ever born or made ?

Shall, of all the fair ones, she

Only so unhappy be,

As to live in such a time,

In so rude, so dull a clime,

Where no spirit can ascend

High enough to apprehend

Her unprized excellence,

Which lies hid from common-sense ? 320

Never shall a stain so vile

Blemish this, our poets' isle.

I myself will rather run

22 FAIR VIRTUE

And seek out for Helicon.

I will wash and make me clean

In the waves of Hippocrene ;

And in spite of fortune's bars,

Climb the hill that braves the stars,

Where, if I can get no Muse

That will any skill infuse, 330

Or my just attempt prefer,

I will make a Muse of her,

Whose kind heat shall soon distil

Art into my ruder quill.

By her favour I will gain

Help to reach so rare a strain,

That the learned hills shall wonder

How the untaught valleys under,

Met with raptures so divine,

Without knowledge of the Nine. 340

I, that am a shepherd's swain, Piping on the lowly plain, And no other music can, Than what learn'd I have of Pan, I, who never sung the lays That deserve Apollo's bays, Hope not only here to frame Measures which shall keep her name From the spite of wasting times, But, enshrined in sacred rhymes, 350

Place her where her form divine Shall to after ages shine, And without respect of odds, Vie renown with demi-gods.

FAIR VIRTUE 23

Then, whilst of her praise I sing, Hearken, valley, grove, and spring ; Listen to me, sacred fountains, Solitary rocks, and mountains ; Satyrs, and you wanton elves, That do nightly sport yourselves ; 360

Shepherds, you that on the reed Whistle while your lambs do feed ; Aged woods and floods, that know What hath been long times ago, Your more serious notes among, Hear how I can in my song Set a nymph's perfection forth ; And when you have heard her worth, Say if such another lass Ever known to mortal was. 370

Listen, lordlings, you that most Of your outward honours boast ; And you gallants, that think scorn We, to lowly fortunes born, Should attain to any graces Where you look for sweet embraces ; See if all those vanities Whereon your affection lies, Or the titles, or the power,

By your fathers' virtues your, 380

Can your mistresses enshrine In such state as I will mine, Who am forced to importune Favours in despite of fortune.

Beauties, listen, chiefly you,

24 FAIR VIRTUE

That yet know not virtue's due.

You that think there are no sports,

Nor no honours, but in courts ;

Though of thousands there lives not

Two, but die and are forgot ; 390

See if any palace yields

Ought more glorious than the fields,

And consider well if we

May not as high-flying be

In our thoughts, as you that sing

In the chambers of a King.

See, if our contented minds,

Whom Ambition never blinds —

We, that clad in homespun grey,

On our own sweet meadows play — ..-. 400

Cannot honour, if we please,

Where we list as well as these ;

Or as well of worth approve,

Or with equal passions love.

See if beauties may not touch

Our soon-loving hearts as much ;

Or our services effect

Favours, with as true respect

In your good conceits to rise,

As our painted butterflies. 410

And you fairest, give her room, When your sex's pride doth come, For that subject of my song I invoke these groves among, To be witness of the lays Which I carol in her praise.

FAIR VIRTUE 25

And because she soon will see

If my measures faulty be,

Whilst I chant them, let each rhyme

Keep a well-proportion'd time, 420

And with strains that are divine

Meet her thoughts in every line.

Let each accent there present

To her soul a new content ;

And with ravishings so seize her,

She may feel the height of pleasure.

You enchanting spells that lie Lurking in sweet poesy, And to none else will appear But to those that worthy are, 430

Make her know there is a power Ruling in these charms of your, That transcends a thousand heights Ordinary men's delights ; And can leave within her breast Pleasures not to be exprest. Let her linger on each strain As if she would hear 't again, And were loth to part from thence Till she had the quintessence 440

Out of each conceit she meets, And had stored her with those sweets.

Make her by your art to see, I, that am her swain, was he Unto whom all beauties here Were alike and equal dear ; That I could of freedom boast,

26 FAIR VIRTUE

And of favours with the most ;

Yet now, nothing more affecting,

Sing of her, the rest neglecting. 450

Make her heart with full compassion Judge the merit of true passion ; And as much my love prefer, As I strive to honour her.

Lastly, you that will, I know, Hear me, wh'er you should or no ; You that seek to turn all flowers, By your breath's infectious powers, Into such rank, loathsome weeds As your dunghill nature breeds ; 460

Let your hearts be chaste, or here Come not till you purge them clear. Mark, and mark then, what is worst : For whate'er it seem at first, If you bring a modest mind, You shall nought immodest find.

But if any too severe Hap to lend a partial ear, Or out of his blindness yawn Such a word as Oh profane, 470

Let him know thus much from me, If here's ought profane, 'tis he Who applies these excellences Only to the touch of senses, And, dim-sighted, cannot see Where the soul of this may be.

Yet, that no offence may grow, 'Tis their choice to stay or go.

FAIR VIRTUE 27

Or if any for despite

Rather comes than for delight, 480

For his presence I'll not pray, Nor his absence ; come he may. Critics shall admitted be, Though I know they'll carp at me ; For I neither fear nor care What in this their censures are. ^ If the verse here used be Their dislike, it liketh me. If my method they deride, Let them know Love is not tied 490

In his free discourse to choose Such strict rules as arts-men use. These may prate of Love ; but they Know him not : for he will play From the matter now and then, Off and on, and off again. - If this prologue tedious seem, Or the rest too long they deem, Let them know my love they win, Though they go ere I begin, 500

Just as if they should attend me Till the last, and there commend me. JFor I will for no man's pleasure Change a syllable or measure, Neither for their praises add Ought to mend what they think bad, Since it never was my fashion To make work of recreation. Pedants shall not tie my strains

28 FAIR VIRTUE

To our antique poets' veins ; 510

As if we, in latter days,

Knew to love, but not to praise.

Being born as free as these,

I will sing as I shall please,

Who as well new paths may run,

As the best before have done.

I disdain to make my song

For their pleasures short or long.

If I please I'll end it here:

If I list I'll sing this year. 520

And, though none regard of it,

By myself I pleas'd can sit,

And with that contentment cheer me,

As if half the world did hear me.

But because I am assured All are either so conjured, As they will my song attend With the patience of a friend, Or, at least, take note, that I Care not much, now willingly 530

I these goodly colours lay, Wind, nor rain, shall wear away ; But retain their purest glass When the statues made of brass For some prince's more renown, Shall be wholly overthrown, Or, consum'd with canker'd rust, Lie neglected in the dust.

And my reason gives direction, When I sing of such perfection, 540

FAIR VIRTUE 29

First, those beauties to declare, Which, though hers, without her are. To advance her fame, I find, Those are of a triple kind. Privileges she hath store. At her birth, since, and before.

From before her birth the fame She of high descents may claim ; Whose well -gotten honours may Her deserving more display. 550

For from heavenly race she springs, And from high and mighty kings.

At her birth she was by fate In those parents fortunate Whose estates and virtues stood Answerable to their blood.

Then the nation, time, and place, To the rest may add some grace. For the people, with the clime, And the fashions of the time, 560

In all which she hath been blest, By enjoying them at best, Do not only mend the features, But oft-times make better natures. Whereas, those who hap not so, Both deform'd and ruder grow.

In these climes and latter days To deserve sweet beauty's praise, Where so many females dwell, That each seemeth to excel, 570

Is more glory twenty-fold,

30 FAIR VIRTUE

Than it was in days of old,

When our ordinary fair ones

Might have been esteemed rare ones,

And have made a subject fit

For their bravest poet's wit.

Little rush-lights, or a spark,

Shineth fairly in the dark,

And to him occasion gives

That from sight of lesser lives 580

To adore it ; yet the ray

Of one torch will take away

All the light of twenty more

That shin'd very well before.

So those petty beauties, which

Made the times before us rich,

Though but sparkles, seem'd a flame

Which hath been increased by fame,

And their true affections, who

Better never liv'd to know. 590

Whereas, her if they had seen,

She had sure adored been,

And taught ages past to sing

Sweeter in their sonneting.

Such a ray, so clear, so bright, Had outshined all the light Of a thousand such as theirs, Who were then esteemed stars ; And would have enlighten'd near Half the world's wide hemisphere. 600

She is fairest that may pass For a fair one, where the lass

FAIR VIRTUE 31

Trips it on the country green,

That may equal Sparta's queen ;

Where in every street you see

Throngs of nymphs and ladies be,

That are fair enough to move

Angels and enamour Jove.

She must matchless features bring

That now moves a Muse to sing, 6lO

Whenas one small province may

Show more beauties in a day

Than the half of Europe could

Breed them in an age of old.

Such is she, and such a lot

Hath her rare perfection got.

Since her birth, to make the colour Of so true a beauty fuller, And to give a better grace To that sweetness in the face, 620

She hath all the furtherance had, Noble educations add ; And not only knoweth all Which our ladies courtship call. With those knowledges that do Grace her sex, and suit thereto, But she hath attain'd to find, What is rare with womankind, Excellences whereby she

May in soul delighted be, 630

And reap more contentment than One of twenty thousand can.

By this means hath bettei'd bin

32 FAIR VIRTUE

All without her, and within.

For it hath by adding arts

To adorn her native parts,

Raised to a noble flame,

Which shall lighten forth her fame,

Those dear sparks of sacred fire

Which the Muses did inspire 640

At her birth, that she complete

Might with them befit a seat.

But, perhaps I do amiss To insist so long on this. These are superficial things, And but slender shadowings To the work I have in hand. Neither can you understand What her excellence may be, Till herself describ'd you see. 650

Nor can mine or any pen Paint her half so lovely then As she is indeed. For here Might those Deities appear, Which young Paris view'd at will, Naked, upon Ida hill ; That I from those three might take All their beauties one to make ; Those, no question, well compact, Would have made up one exact. 660

Something yet we miss of might, To express her sweetness right ; Juno's majesty would fit; Venus beauty, Pallas wit

FAIR VIRTUE 33

Might have brought to pattern hers,

In some show'd particulars,

But they never can express

Her whole frame or worthiness

With those excellences which

Make both soul and body rich. 670

Pallas sometimes was untoward, Venus wanton, Juno froward ; Yea, all three infected were, With such faults as women are. And though falsely deified, Frailties had, which she'll deride.

By herself must therefore she Or by nothing pattern'd be. And I hope to paint her so, By herself, that you shall know 680

I have served no common dame Of mean worth or vulgar fame, But a nymph that's fairer than Pen or pencil portrait can. And to-morrow if you stray Back again this uncouth way, I my simple art will show ; But the time prevents me now. For, except at yonder glade, All the land is under shade ; 690

That, before these ewes be told, Those my wethers in the fold, Ten young wainlings driven down To the well beneath the town, And my lambkins changed from VOL. II. 3

34 FAIR VIRTUE

Broom-leas to the mead at home,

'Twill be far in night : and so

I shall make my father woe

For my stay, and be in fear

Somewhat is mischanced here. 700

On your way I'll therefore bring you,

And a song or two I'll sing you,

Such as I, half in despair,

Made when first I woo'd my fair ;

Whereunto my boy shall play,

That my voice assist it may.

COME, my Muse, if thou disdain,

All my comforts are bereft me ; No delight doth now remain,

I nor friend nor flock have left me, 710

They are scattered on the plain.

Men, alas, are too severe,

And make scoffs at lovers' fortunes ; Women, hearted like the bear,

That regards not who importunes, But doth all in pieces tear.

If I should my sorrows show

Unto rivers, springs, or fountains,

They are senseless of my woe ;

So are groves, and rocks, and mountains. 720

Then, oh, whither shall I go?

FAIR VIRTUE 35

Means of harbour me to shield From despair, ah, know you any?

For nor city, grange, nor field, Though they lend content to many,

Unto me can comfort yield.

I have wept and sighed too,

For compassion to make trial — Yea, done all that words can do,

Yet have nothing but denial. 730

What way is there then to woo ?

Shall I swear, protest, and vow ?

So have I done most extremely. Should I die? I know not how.

For from all attempts unseemly, Love and Virtue keeps me now.

I have heard that Time prevails ;

But I fear me 'tis a fable. Time and all endeavour fails ;

To bear more my heart's unable, 740

Yet none careth what it ails.

Lines to some have oped the door,

And got entrance for affection. Words well-spoken much implore

By the gesture's good direction : But a look doth ten times more.

'Tis the eye that only reads

To the heurt love's deepest lectures.

36 FAIR VIRTUE

By a moving look it pleads,

More than common-sense conjectures, 750 And a way to pity leads.

This I knowing did observe,

Both by words and looks complaining,

Yet for pity I may starve :

There's no hope of my obtaining

Till I better can deserve.

Yea, and he that thinks to win

By desert, may be deceived. For they who have worthiest bin,

Of their right have been bereaved, 760

And a groom admitted in.

Wherefore, Muse, to thee I call ;

Thou, since nothing else avails me, Must redeem me from my thrall.

If thy sweet enchantment fails me, Then adieu, love, life, and all.

2.

TELL me, my heart, what thoughts these pantings move?

My thoughts of Love. What flames are these, that set thee so on fire ?

Flames of Desire. 770

What means hast thou, contentment's flower to crop ?

No means but Hope.

FAIR VIRTUE 37

Yet let us feed on Hope, and hope the best. For they amid their griefs are something blest, Whose thoughts, and flames, and means, have such

free scope They may at once both Love, Desire, and Hope.

But say what fruit will love at last obtain ?

Fruitless Disdain. What will those hopes prove, which yet seem so fair?

Hopeless Despair. 780

What end shall run those passions out of breath ?

An endless Death.

Oh, can there be such cruelty in Love ? And doth my fortune so ungentle prove, She will no fruit, nor hope, nor end bequeath, But cruellest Disdain, Despair, and Death ?

Then what new study shall I now apply ?

Study to Die. How might I end my care, and die content ?

Care to Repent. 790

And what good thoughts may make my end more holy?

Think on thy Folly.

Yes, so I will ; and since my fate can give No Hope, but ever without Hope to live, My studies, cares, and thoughts, I'll all apply To weigh my Folly well, Repent and Die.

38 FAIR VIRTUE

3-

SAD eyes, what do you ail

To be thus ill-disposed ?

Why doth your sleeping fail,

Now all men's else are closed ? 800

Was 't I, that ne'er did bow In any servile duty, And will you make me now A slave to love and beauty ?

What though thy mistress smile,

And in her love affects thee?

Let not her eye beguile,

I fear she disrespects thee. Do not, poor heart, depend On those vain thoughts that fill thee ; 810 They'll fail thee in the end, So must thy passions kill thee.

What hopes have I, that she

Will hold her favours ever,

When so few women be,

That constant can persever? Whate'er she do protest, When fortunes do deceive me, Then she, with all the rest, I fear, alas, will leave me. 820

Whilst youth and strength remains, With art that may commend her, Perhaps she nought disdains, Her servant should attend her.

FAIR VIRTUE 39

But it is one to ten, If crosses overtake me, She will not know me then, But scorn and so forsake me.

Shall then in earnest truth

My careful eyes observe her? 830

Shall I consume my youth,

And short my time to serve her ? Shall I, beyond my strength, Let passion's torments prove me, To hear her say at length, Away, I cannot love thee ?

Oh, rather let me die

Whilst I thus gentle find her ;

'Twere worse than death if I

Should find she proves unkinder. 840

One frown, though but in jest, Or one unkindness feigned, Would rob me of more rest Than e'er could be regained.

But in her eyes I find

Such signs of pity moving,

She cannot be unkind,

Nor err, nor fail in loving. And on her forehead this Seems written to relieve me; 850

My heart no joy shall miss That love, or she, can give me.

40 FAIR VIRTUE

Which if I find, I vow,

My service shall persever :

The same that I am now,

I will continue ever. No other's high degree, Nor beauteous look shall change me. My love shall constant be, And no estate estrange me. 860

When other noble dames

By greater men attended,

Shall with their lives and names

Have all their glories ended, With fairest queens shall she Sit sharing equal glory, And times to come shall be Delighted with our story.

In spite of others' hates,

More honour I will do her, 870

Than those that with estates

And helps of Fortune woo her. Yea, that true worth I spy, Though monarchs strove to grace it, They should not reach more high, Than I dare hope to place it.

And though I never vaunt

What favours are possessed,

Much less content I want,

Than if they were expressed. 880

FAIR VIRTUE 41

Let others make their mirth To blab each kiss or toying, I know no bliss on earth Like secret love enjoying.

And this shall be the worst

Of all that can betide me ;

If I, like some accurst,

Should find my hopes deride me, My cares will not be long, I know which way to mend them ; 890

I'll think who did the wrong, Sigh, break my heart, and end them.

HAIL, fair beauties, and again,

Hail to all your goodly train.

What I promised yesterday,

If it please you, hear ye may :

For now once begun have I,

Sing I will, though none were by.

And though freely on I run,

Yet confused paths to shun, 900

First that part shall be disclosed,

That's of elements composed.

There the two unequal pair,

Water, fire, earth and air,

Each one suiting a complexion,

Have so cunning a commixtion,

As they, in proportion sweet,

With the rarest temper meet.

Either inasmuch as needeth,

42 FAIR VIRTUE

So as neither ought exceedeth. 910

This pure substance is the same,

Which the body we do name.

Were that of immortal stuff,

'Tis refin'd and pure enough

To be call'd a soul ; for sure,

Many souls are not so pure.

I that with a serious look

Note of this rare model took,

Find that nature in their places

So well couched all the graces, 920

As the curious't eyes that be

Can nor blot nor blemish see.

Like a pine it groweth straight, Reaching an approved height : And hath all the choice perfections, That inflame the best affections. In the motion of each part, Nature seems to strive with Art, Which her gestures most shall bless With the gifts of pleasingness. 930

When she sits, methinks I see How all virtues fixed be In a frame, whose constant mould Will the same unchanged hold. If you note her when she moves, Cytherea drawn with doves May come learn such winning motions As will gain to love's devotions More than all her painted wiles, Such as tears, or sighs, or smiles. 940

FAIR VIRTUE 43

Some, whose bodies want true graces, Have sweet features in their faces ; Others, that do miss them there, Lovely are some other where ; And to our desires do fit, In behaviour, or in wit ; Or some inward worth appearing To the soul, the soul endearing : But in her your eye may find All that's good in womankind. 950

What in others we prefer, Are but sundry parts of her ; Who most perfect doth present What might one and all content. Yea, he that in love still ranges, And each day, or hourly changes, Had he judgment but to know What perfection in her grow, There would find the spring of store, Swear a faith, and change no more. 960

Neither in the total frame Is she only void of blame ; But each part survey'd asunder Might beget both love and wonder. If you dare to look so high, Or behold such majesty, Lift your wond'ring eyes and see Whether ought can better'd be.

There's her hair, with which love angles, And beholders' eyes entangles ; 970

For, in those fair curled snares,

44 FAIR VIRTUE

They are hamper'd unawares,

And compell'd to swear a duty

To her sweet enthralling beauty.

In my mind 'tis the most fair

That was ever called hair,

Somewhat brighter than a brown ;

And her tresses waving down

At full length, and so dispread

Mantles her from foot to head. 980

If you saw her arched brow, Tell me, pray, what art knows how To have made it in a line More exact or more divine. Beauty there may be descried In the height of all her pride ; 'Tis a meanly-rising plain, Whose pure white hath many a vein, Interlacing like the springs In the earth's enamellings. 990

If the tale be not a toy Of the little winged Boy, When he means to strike a heart, Thence he throws the fatal dart, Which of wounds still makes a pair, One of Love, one of Despair.

Round her visage — or so near To a roundness doth appear, That no more of length it takes, Than what best proportion makes. IOOO

Short her chin is, and yet so As it is just long enow ;

FAIR VIRTUE 45

Loveliness doth seem to glory In that circling promontory. Pretty moving features skip 'Twixt that hillock and the lip, If you note her but the while She is pleased to speak or smile.

And her lips, that knew no dullness, Full are, in the meanest fullness ; IOIO

Those the leaves be whose unfolding Brings sweet pleasures to beholding ; For such pearls they do disclose, Both the Indies match not those ; Yet are so in order placed, As their whiteness is more graced. Each part is so well disposed, And her dainty mouth composed, So as there is no distortion Misbeseems that sweet proportion. IO2O

When her ivory teeth she buries 'Twixt her two enticing cherries, There appears such pleasures hidden, As might tempt what were forbidden. If you look again, the whiles She doth part those lips in smiles, 'Tis as when a flash of light Breaks from heaven to glad the night.

Other parts my pencil crave, But those lips I cannot leave ; 1030

For methinketh I should go

1. 1031. So 1633. 1622 reads ' methinkes.' Gutch read 'For, methinks, if I should go ... Would hold me," etc.

46 FAIR VIRTUE

And forsake those cherries so, There's a. kind of excellence Holds me from departing hence. I would tell you what it were, But my cunning fails me there. They are like in their discloses To the morning's dewy roses, That beside the name of fair Cast perfumes that sweet the air. 1040

Melting soft her kisses be, And had I now two or three, More inspired by their touch, I had prais'd them twice as much. But, sweet Muses, mark ye how Her fair eyes do check me now, That I seem'd to pass them so, And their praises overgo ; And yet blame me not, that I Would so fain have pass'd them by ; 1050 For I feared to have seen them, Lest there were some danger in them. Yet such gentle looks they lend, As might make her foe a friend ; And by their allurings move All beholders unto love. Such a power is also there, As will keep those thoughts in fear ; And command enough I saw, To hold impudence in awe. 1060

There may he, that knows to love, Read contents which are above

FAIR VIRTUE 47

Their ignoble aims, who know Nothing that so high doth grow. Whilst she me beholding is, My heart dares not think amiss ; For her sight most piercing clear, Seems to see what's written there.

Those bright eyes, that with their light Oftentimes have blest my sight, 1070

And in turning thence their shining Left me in sad darkness pining, Are the rarest, loveliest grey. And do cast forth such a ray, As the man that black prefers, More would like this grey of hers.

Whentheir matchless beams she shrouds, 'Tis like Cynthia hid in clouds. If again she show them light, 'Tis like morning after night. 1080

And 'tis worthy well beholding, With how many a pretty folding Her sweet eyelids grace that fair, Meanly fring'd with beaming hair ; Whereby neatly overspread, Those bright lamps are shadowed.

'Twixt the eyes no hollow place, Wrinkle, nor undecent space, Disproportions her in ought, Though by envy faults were sought 1090

On those eyebrows never yet Did disdainful scowling sit. Love and Goodness gotten thither,

48 FAIR VIRTUE

Sit on equal thrones together ; And do throw just scorn on them That their government contemn.

Then, almost obscur'd, appears Those her jewel-gracing ears, Whose own beauties more adorn, Than the richest pearl that's worn Iioo

By the proudest Persian dames, fa

Or the best that Nature frames. There the voice, in love's meanders, Those their pretty circlings wanders, Whose rare turnings will admit No rude speech to enter it.

Stretching from mount forehead lies Beauty's cape betwixt her eyes. Which two crystal-passing lakes Love's delightful isthmus makes ; mo

Neither more nor less extending Than most meriteth commending. Those in whom that part hath been Best deserving praises seen, Or, survey'd without affection, Came the nearest to perfection, Would scarce handsome ones appear If with her compared they were. For it is so much excelling, That it passeth means of telling. 1120

On the either side of this Love's most lovely prospect is : Those her smiling cheeks, whose colour Comprehends true beauty fuller

FAIR VIRTUE 49

Than the curious't mixtures can,

That are made by art of man.

It is beauty's garden-plot,

Where as in a true-love knot,

So the snowy lily grows,

Mixed with the crimson rose, 1130

That as friends they joined be.

Yet they seem to disagree

Whether of the two shall reign,

And the lilies oft obtain

Greatest sway, unless a blush

Help the roses at a push.

Hollow fallings none there are ;

There's no wrinkle, there's no scar ;

Only there's a little mole,

Which from Venus' cheek was stole. 1140

If it were a thing in Nature Possible, that any creature Might decaying life repair Only by the help of air, There were no such salve for death As the balm of her sweet breath. Or if any human power Might detain the soul an hour From the flesh to dust bequeathing, It would linger on her breathing, 1150

And be half in mind that there More than mortal pleasures were. And whose fortune were so fair As to draw so sweet an air, Would no doubt let slighted lie VOL. n. 4

50 FAIR VIRTUE

The perfumes of Araby.

For the English eglantine

Doth, through envy of her, pine.

Violets, and roses too,

Fears that she will them undo ; 1 160

And it seems that in her breast

Is compos'd the Phoenix' nest.

But descend awhile, mine eye ; See if polish'd ivory, Or the finest-fleeced flocks, Or the whitest Albion rocks, For comparisons may stand, To express that snowy hand. When she draws it from her glove It hath virtue to remove, 1170

Or disperse 't, if there be ought Cloudeth the beholder's thought. If that palm but toucheth your, You shall feel a secret power Cheer your heart, and glad it more, Though it droop'd with grief before.

Through the veins disposed true Crimson yields a sapphire hue, Which adds grace, and more delight, By embracing with the white. n8o

Smooth, and moist, and soft, and tender, Are her palms ; the fingers slender, Tipp'd with mollified pearl : And if that transformed girl Whose much cunning made her dare With Jove's daughter to compare,

FAIR VIRTUE 51

Had that hand worn, maugre spite,

She had shamed the goddess quite.

For there is in every part

Nature perfecter than Art. 1 190

These were joined to those arms That were never made for harms ; But possess the sweetest graces, That may apt them for embraces. Like the silver streams they be, "Which from some high hill we see Clipping in a goodly vale, That grows proud of such a thrall.

Neither alabaster rocks,

Pearl-strow'd shores, nor Cotswold flocks, I2OO Nor the mountains tipp'd with snow, Nor the milk-white swans of Po, Can appear so fair to me As her spotless shoulders be. They are like some work of state, Cover'd with the richest plate, And a presence have, that strike With devotions, goddess-like.

'Twixt those shoulders, meanly spread, To support that globe-like head, 1210

Riseth up her neck, wherein Beauty seemeth to begin To disclose itself in more Tempting manner than before. How therein she doth excel, Though I would, I cannot tell : For I naught on earth espy,

52 FAIR VIRTUE

That I may express it by.

There should lovers, as in duty Hang rich trophies up to beauty. I22O

'Tis proportion'd to a height That is even with delight. Yet it is a great deal higher Than to answer base desire.

Where the neck hath end, begins That smooth path where love's close gins Are thick placed to enthral Such as that way straggle shall. There a pleasing passage lies, Far beyond the sight of eyes : 1230

And much more delight contains Than the old Elysian plains.

Whatsoever others say, There's alone the Milky Way, That to beauty's walks doth go, Which, if others came to know, In possessing their delight, They should never reach the height Of the pleasures which I share, Whilst that those debarred are. 1240

Yet unspoken of there rests Her two twin-like lovely breasts, Whose round-rising, pretty panting, I would tell, but art is wanting. Words can never well declare Her fair sweet perfections there : For, would measures give me leave To express what I conceive,

FAIR VIRTUE 53

I do know I should go near

Half to ravish all that hear. 1250

And, but that I learn to season

What I apprehend with reason,

It had made my passions' weight

Sink me through my own conceit.

There I find so large a measure

Of an unexpressed pleasure,

That my heart, through strong surmise,

In a pleasing fainting lies.

He that there may rest to prove, Softer finds those beds of love, 1260

Than the cotton ripest grown, Or fine pillows of such down, As in time of moulting, fans From the breasts of silver swans. Those two sisters are a pair Smooth alike, like soft, like fair, If together they be view'd. Yet if they apart be shew'd, That you touch, or see, seems smoother, Softer, fairer, than the other. 1270

That the colour may delight, So much red as makes the white Purer seem, is shed among : And then here and there along Runs a sapphire-mine, whose blue, Shadow'd, makes so brave a show On those lily mounts, as tho' Beauty's simples there did grow. In the vale, 'twixt either hill,

54 FAIR VIRTUE

Lies desire in ambush still ; 1280

And surpriseth every eye Which doth that way dare to pry.

There is sure the twy-top hill Where the poets learn their skill. That's Parnassus where the Muses Chaste and wise Minerva uses. Her two cherrilets are those, Whence the pleasant'st nectar flows : And no fruits e'er equall'd these, Fetch'd from the Hesperides. 1290

Once, as Cynthia's games she chased, And for air left half unlaced Her light summer robe of green, Beauty's safe but slender screen, Unawares I partly spied That fair lily field unhid, Which you may her belly name ; Yet nor she nor I to blame, For it was but what mine eye Might behold with modesty. 1300

'Tis a fair and matchless plain Where unknown delights remain ; 'Tis the store-house wherein pleasure Hides the richest of her treasure ; Which true modesty in ward Keeps with a continual guard Of such virtues as she's sure No corruption can allure.

There, they say, for mind it well, I do this by hearsay tell, 1310

FAIR VIRTUE 55

Grows her navel, which doth seem Like some jewel of esteem ; With so wondrous cunning wrought That an injury 'tis thought Such a beauty, with the rest, Should, unknown, be unexprest.

Somewhat else there is, that's hidden, Which to name I am forbidden : Neither have I ever pried After that should be unspied. 1320

Never shall my maiden Muse So herself and me abuse, As to sing what I may fear Will offend the choicest ear. Though I know, if none be by But true friends to modesty, I might name each part afc—'ill, And yet no man's thought be ill.

Yet, for fear loose hearers may Judge amiss, if more I say, I'll descend to shun all blame, To the pillars of this frame ; Where, though I ne'er aim'd so high As her dainty youthful thigh — Whose rare softness, smoothness, fullness, Being known, would teach my dullness Such a strain as might befit Some brave Tuscan poet's wit — Once a saucy bush I spied, Pluck her silken skirts aside ; So discover'd unto me

56 FAIR VIRTUE

All those beauties to the knee.

And, before the thorns' entanglings

Had let go the silver spanglings,

I perceived the curious knitting

Of those joints were well befitting ;

Such a noble piece of work,

'Mongst whose turnings seem'd to lurk

Much to entertain the sight

With new objects of delight. 1350

Then the leg for shape as rare, Will admit of no compare. Straight it is ; the ankle lean, Full the calf, but in the mean ; And the slender foot doth fit, So each way to suit with it, As she nothing less excels Therein, than in all things else. Yea, from head to foot her feature Shows her an unblemish'd creature : 1360

In whom love with reason might Find so matchless a delight, That more cannot be acquired, Nor a greater bliss desired.

Yet if you will rest an hour Under yonder shady bower, I anon my Muse will raise To a higher pitch of praise. But awhile with raspice-berries, Strawberries, ripe pears, and cherries 1370 (Such as these our groves do bear), L 1362. Both 1622 and 1633 give ' Finds . . .'

FAIR VIRTUE 57

We will cool our palates there. And those homely cates among, Now and then a past'ral song Shall my lad here sing and play, Such as you had yesterday.

r.

A LAD whose faith will constant prove,

And never know an end, Late by an oversight in love,

Displeas'd his dearest friend. 1380

For which incens'd, she did retake

The favours which he wore, And said he never for her sake

Should wear or see them more.

The grief whereof, how near it went,

And how unkindly took, Was figur'd by the discontent

Appearing in his look. At first he could not silence break,

So heavy sorrow lay, I39O

But when his sighs gave way to speak,

Thus sadly did he say :

" My only dear ; " and with that speech,

Not able to sustain The floods of grief at sorrow's breach,

He paus'd awhile again.

58 FAIR VIRTUE

At length, nigh fainting, did express

These words, with much ado : " Oh, dear, let not my love's excess

Me and my love undo." 1400

She, little moved with his pain,

His much distraction eyed ; And changing love into disdain,

Thus, still unkind, replied : " Forbear to urge one kindness more,

Unless you long to see The good respect you had before

At once all lost in me."

With that, dismay'd, his suit he ceased,

And down his head he hung ; 1410

And as his reason's strength decreased,

His passion grew more strong. But, seeing she did slight his moan,

With willow garlands wreath'd, He sat him down, and all alone

This sad complaint he breath' d :

"Oh heavens ! " quoth he, " why do we spend

Endeavours thus in vain ; Since what the Fates do fore-intend,

They never change again ? 1420

Nor faith, nor love, nor true desert,

Nor all that man can do, Can win him place within her heart,

That is not born thereto.

FAIR VIRTUE 59

" Why.do I fondly waste my youth

In secret sighs and tears ? Why to preserve a spotless truth,

Taste I so many cares ? For women, that no worth respect,

Do so ungentle prove, 1430

That some shall win by their neglect

What others lose with love.

" Those that have set the best at naught,

And no man could enjoy, At last by some base gull are caught,

And gotten with a toy. Yea, they that spend an age's light,

Their favours to obtain, For one unwilling oversight

May lose them all again. 1440

" How glad, and fain, alas ! would I

For her have underwent The greatest care, ere she should try

The smallest discontent? Yet she that may my life command,

And doth those passions know, Denieth me a poor demand,

In height of all my woe.

" Oh, if the noblest of her time,

And best beloved of me, 1450

Could for so poor, so slight a crime, So void of pity be,

60 FAIR VIRTUE

Sure, had it been some common one

Whose patience I had tried, No wonder I had been undone,

Or unforgiven died.

"A thousand lives I would have laid,

So well I once believed She would have deign'd to lend me aid,

If she had seen me grieved. 1460

But now I live to see the day

Where I presumed so, I neither dare for pity pray,

Nor tell her of my woe.

" Yet let not, poor despised heart,

Her worth ought question'd be Hadst thou not failed in desert,

She had not failed thee. But lest, perhaps, they flout thy moan,

That should esteem thee dear, 1470

Go, make it by thyself alone,

Where none may come to hear.

** Still keep thy forehead crown'd with smiles,

What passion e'er thou try, That none may laugh at thee, the whiles

Thou discontented lie. And let no wrong by chance disdain

A love so truly fair, But rather never hope again,

And thou shalt ne'er despair." 1480

FAIR VIRTUE 61

O'ERTIRED by cruel passions that oppress me, With heart nigh broken, time no hope would give me, Upon my bed I laid me down to rest me ; And gentle sleep I wooed to relieve me. But oh, alas ! I found that on the morrow My sleeping joys brought forth my waking sorrow.

For lo ! a dream I had so full of pleasure, That to possess what to embrace I seem'd Could not affect my joy in higher measure Than now it grieves me that I have but dream'd. 1490 Oh, let my dreams be sighs and tears hereafter, So I that sleeping weep, may wake in laughter.

Fain would I tell how much that shadow pleased me ; But tongue and pen want words and art in telling : Yet this I'll say, to show what horror seized me When I was robb'd of bliss, so much excelling : Might all my dreams be such, oh, let me never Awake again, but sleep and dream for ever.

For when I waking saw myself deceived,

And what an inward Hell it had procured, 1500

To find myself of all my hopes bereaved,

It brought on passions not to be endured :

And knew I next night had such dreams in keeping,

I'd make my eyes forswear for ever sleeping.

62 FAIR VIRTUE

You woody hills, you dales, you groves,

You floods, and every spring, You creatures, come, whom nothing moves,

And hear a shepherd sing. For to heroes, nymphs, and swains,

I long have made my moan ; I5IQ

Yet what my mournful verse contains

Is understood of none.

In song Apollo gave me skill ;

Their love his sisters deign : With those that haunt Parnassus' hill

I friendship entertain : Yet this is all in vain to me,

So haplessly I fare, As those things which my glory be

My cause of ruin are. 1520

For Love hath kindled in my breast

His never-quenched fire : And I, who often have exprest

What other men desire, Because I could so dive into

The depth of others' moan, Now I my own affliction show,

I heeded am of none.

FAIR VIRTUE 63

Oft have the nymphs of greatest worth

Made suit my songs to hear : As oft, when I have sighed forth

Such notes as saddest were, "Alas ! " said they, " poor gentle heart,

Whoe'er that shepherd be : " But none of them suspects my smart,

Nor thinks it meaneth me.

When I have reach'd so high a strain

Of passion in my song, That they have seen the tears to rain

And trill my cheek along, Instead of sigh, or weeping eye,

To sympathize with me, "Oh, were he once in love," they cry, " How moving would he be ! "

Oh, pity me, you powers above,

And take my skill away ; Or let my hearers think I love,

And feign not what I say: For if I could disclose the smart

Which I unknown do bear, '55O

Each line would make them sighs impart,

And every word a tear.

*' Had I a mistress," some do think, " She should revealed be ; And I would favours wear, or drink Her health upon my knee."

64 FAIR VIRTUE

Alas, poor fools ! they aim awry,

Their fancy flags too low : Could they my love's rare course espy,

They would amazed grow. 1 560

But let nor nymph nor swain conceive

My tongue shall ever tell Who of this rest doth me bereave,

Or where I am not well. But if you sighing me espy,

Where rarest features be, Mark where I fix a weeping eye,

And swear you, there is she.

Yet, ere my eyes betray me shall,

I'll swell and burst with pain : 1 57°

And for each drop they would let fall,

My heart shall bleed me twain. For since my soul more sorrow bears

Than common lovers know, I scorn my passions should, like theirs,

A common humour show.

Ear never heard of, heretofore,

Of any love like mine. Nor shall there be for evermore

Affection so divine. 1580

And that to feign it none may try,

When I dissolv'd must be, The first I am it lived by,

And die it shall with me.

FAIR VIRTUE 65

BOY, ha' done ; for now my brain

Is inspir'd afresh again,

And new raptures pressing are,

To be sung in praise of her,

Whose fair picture lieth nigh,

Quite unveil'd to every eye. 1590

No small favour hath it been

That such beauty might be seen :

Therefore, ever may they rue it,

Who with evil eyes shall view it.

Yea, what ancient stories tell,

Once to rude Actaeon fell,

When with evil thoughts he stood

Eyeing Cynthia in the flood,

May that fatal horned curse

Light upon them, or a worse. 1600

But, whatever others be, Lest some fault be found in me, If unperfect this remain, I will over-trim 't again. Therefore, turn where we begun : And now all is overrun, Mark if everything exprest Suit not so unto the rest, As if Nature would prefer All perfections unto her. 1610

Wherefore seems it strange to any That they daily see so many, Who were else most perfect creatures, In some one part want true features ? Since, from all the fair'st that live, VOL. II. 5

66 FAIR VIRTUE

Nature took the best, to give

Her perfection in each part.

I alone except her heart ;

For, among all woman-kind,

Such as hers is hard to find. 1620

If you truly note her face, You shall find it hath a grace Neither wanton, nor o'er-serious, Nor too yielding, nor imperious ; But with such a feature blest, It is that which pleaseth best, And delights each sev'ral eye, That affects with modesty. Lowliness hath in her look Equal place with greatness took ; 1630

And if beauty anywhere Claims prerogatives, 'tis there ; For at once thus much 'twill do, Threat, command, persuade, and woo.

In her speech there is not found Any harsh, unpleasing sound, But a well-beseeming power, Neither higher, neither lower, Than will suit with her perfection ; 'Tis the loadstone of affection ; 1640

And that man, whose judging eyes Could well sound such mysteries, Would in love make her his choice, Though he did but hear her voice. For such accents breathe not, whence Beauty keeps non-residence.

FAIR VIRTUE 67

Never word of hers I hear

But 'tis music to mine ear,

And much more contentment brings

Than the sweetly-touched strings 1650

Of the pleasing lute, whose strains

Ravish hearers when it plains.

Raised by her discourse, I fly In contented thoughts so high, That I pass the common measures Of the dulled senses' pleasures, And leave far below my flight Vulgar pitches of delight.

If she smile, and merry be, All about her are as she, 1 660

For each looker-on takes part Of the joy that's in her heart.

If she grieve, or you but spy Sadness peeping through her eye, Such a grace it seems to borrow, That you'll fall in love with sorrow, And abhor the name of mirth As the hateful'st thing on earth. Should I see her shed a tear, My poor eyes would melt, I fear. 1670

For much more in hers appears, Than in other women's tears ; And her look did never feign Sorrow where there was no pain.

Seldom hath she been espied So impatient as to chide : For if any see her so,

6S FAIR VIRTUE

They'll in love with anger grow.

Sigh, or speak, or smile, or talk,

Sing, or weep, or sit, or walk, 1680

Everything that she doth do

Decent is, and lovely too.

Each part that you shall behold

Hath within itself enrolled

What you could desire to see,

Or your heart conceive to be.

Yet if from that part your eye

Moving, shall another spy,

There you see as much or more

Than you thought to praise before. 1690

While the eye surveys it, you Will imagine that her brow Hath all beauty ; when her cheek You behold, it is as like To be deemed fairest too, So much there can beauty do. Look but thence upon her eye, And you wonder, by and by, How there may be anywhere So much worthy praise as there. 1700

Yet if you survey her breast, Then as freely you'll protest That in them perfection is ; Though I know that one poor kiss From her tempting lips would then Make all that forsworn again. For the selfsame moving grace Is at once in every place.

FAIR VIRTUE 69

She her beauty never foils With your ointments, waters, oils, 1710

Nor no loathsome fucus settles, Mix'd with Jewish fasting spittles. Fair by nature being born, She doth borrow'd beauty scorn ; Whoso kisses her needs fear No unwholesome varnish there ; For from thence he only sips The pure nectar of her lips, And at once with these he closes Melting rubies, cherries, roses. 1720

Then in her behaviour she Striveth but herself to be ; Keeping such a decent state, As indeed she seems to hate Precious leisure should be spent In abused compliment. Though she knows what other do, And can all their courtship too, She is not in so ill case, As to need their borrow'd grace. I73O

Her discourses sweeten'd are With a kind of artless care, That expresseth greater art Than affected words impart. So her gestures, being none But that freeness which alone Suits the braveness of her mind, Make her, of herself, to find Postures more becoming far

IF

70 FAIR VIRTUE

Than the mere acquired are. 1 740

If you mark when for her pleasure

She vouchsafes to foot a measure,

Though with others' skill she pace,

There's a sweet delightful grace

In herself, which doth prefer

Art beyond that art in her. Neither needs she beat her wit

To devise what dressings fit.

Her complexion, and her feature,

So beholding are to Nature, I75O

If she in the fashions go,

All the reason she doth so

Is because she would not err

In appearing singular : Doubtless not for any thought That 'twill perfect her in ought. Many a dainty-seeming dame Is in native beauties lame. Some are graced by their tires, As their quoifs, their hats, their wires. 1760 One a ruff doth best become ; Falling-bands much alt'reth some. And their favours oft we see Changed as their dressings be : Which her beauty never fears, For it graceth all she wears. If ye note her tire to-day, That doth suit her best, you'll say. Mark what she next morn doth wear ; That becomes her best, you'll swear. 1770

FAIR VIRTUE 71

Yea, as oft as her you see, Such new graces stfll there be, As she ever seemeth grac'd Most by that she weareth last, Though it be the same she wore But the very day before.

When she takes her tires about her (Never half so rich without her), At the putting on of them, You may liken every gem 1780

To those lamps which at a play Are set up to light the day ; For their lustre adds no more To what Titan gave before, Neither doth their pretty gleamings Hinder ought his greater beamings ; And yet, which is strange to me, When those costly deckings be Laid away, there seems descried Beauties which those veils did hide ; 1790

And she looks as doth the moon Past some cloud through which she shone ; Or some jewel watch, whose case, Set with diamonds, seems to grace What it doth contain within, Till the curious work be seen ; Then 'tis found that costly shrining Did but hinder t'other's shining.

If you chance to be in place When her mantle she doth grace, 1800

L 1775. ' she ' omitted in 1622.

72 FAIR VIRTUE

You would presently protest Irish dressings were the best. If again she lay it down, While you view her in a gown, And how those her dainty limbs That close-bodied garment trims, You would swear, and swear again, She appeared loveliest then.

But if she so truly fair

Should untie her shining hair l8lO

And at length that treasure shed, Jove's endured Ganimed, Neither Cytherea's joy, Nor the sweet self-loving boy Who in beauty did surpass, Nor the fair'st that ever was, Could, to take you prisoner, bring Looks so sweetly conquering.

She excels her whom Apollo Once with weeping eyes did follow ; 1820

Or that nymph who, shut in towers, Was beguil'd with golden showers ; Yea, and she, whose love was wont To swim o'er the Hellespont For her sake, though in attire Fittest to inflame desire, Seem'd not half so fair to be, Nor so lovely as is she. For the man whose happy eye Views her in full majesty, 1830

Knows she hath a power that moves

FAIR VIRTUE 73

More than doth the Queen of Loves, When she useth all her power To inflame her paramour.

And sometime I do admire All men burn not with desire. Nay, I muse her servants are not Pleading love ; but oh, they dare not : And I therefore wonder why They do not grow sick and die. 1840

Sure they would do so, but that By the ordinance of Fate, There is some concealed thing So each gazer limiting, He can see no more of merit Than beseems his worth and spirit. For in her a grace there shines, That o'er-daring thoughts confines, Making worthless men despair To be loved of one so fair. 1850

Yea, the destinies agree, Some good judgments blind should be, And not gain the power of knowing Those rare beauties in her growing. Reason doth as much imply : For, if every judging eye Which beholdeth her should there Find what excellences are, All, o'ercome by those perfections, Would be captive to affections. 1860

So, in happiness unblest, She for lovers should not rest.

74 FAIR VIRTUE

This, well heeding, think upon : And, if there be any one Who alloweth not the worth Which my Muse hath painted forth, Hold it no defect in her, But that he's ordain'd to err. Or if any female wight

Should detract from this I write, 1870

She, I yield, may show her wit, But disparage her no whit ; For on earth few women be, That from Envy's touch are free ; And who ever Envy knew Yield those honours that were due ?

Though sometimes my song I raise To unused heights of praise, And break forth as I shall please Into strange hyperboles, 1880

'Tis to show conceit hath found Worth beyond expression's bound. Though her breath I do compare To the sweet'st perfumes that are ; Or her eyes, that are so bright, To the morning's cheerful light ; Yet I do it not so much To infer that she is such, As to show that being blest With what merits name of best, 1890

She appears more fair to me Than all creatures else that be.

Her true beauty leaves behind

FAIR VIRTUE 75

Apprehensions in my mind,

Of more sweetness than all art,

Or inventions can impart ;

Thoughts too deep to be expressed,

And too strong to be suppressed ;

Which oft raiseth my conceits

To so unbelieved heights, 1900

That I fear some shallow brain

Thinks my Muses do but feign.

Sure, he wrongs them if he do :

For, could I have reached to

So like strains as these you see,

Had there been no such as she ?

Is it possible that I,

Who scarce heard of poesy,

Should a mere Idea raise

To as true a pitch of praise 1910

As the learned poets could,

Now, or in the times of old,

All those real beauties bring

Honour'd by their sonneting —

Having arts, and favours too,

More t' encourage what they do ?

No ; if I had never seen

Such a beauty, I had been

Piping in the country shades

To the homely dairymaids, 1920

For a country fiddler's fees,

Clouted cream, and bread and cheese.

I no skill in numbers had, More than every shepherd's lad,

76 FAIR VIRTUE

Till she taught me strains that were Pleasing to her gentle ear. Her fair splendour and her worth From obscureness drew me forth ; And, because I had no Muse, She herself deign 'd to infuse I93<>

All the skill by which I climb To these praises in my rhyme : Which if she had pleased to add To that art sweet Drayton had ; Or that happy swain that shall Sing Britannia's Pastoral ; Or to theirs, whose verse set forth Rosalind and Stella's worth ; They had doubled all their skill Gained on Apollo's hill, 1940

And as much more set her forth, As I'm short of them in worth. They had unto heights aspired, Might have justly been admired ; And in such brave strains had moved As of all had been approved. I must praise her as I may ; Which I do mine own rude way : Sometime setting forth her glories By unheard-of allegories. Think not, though, my Muse now sings Mere absurd or feigned things. If to gold I like her hair, Or to stars her eyes so fair ; Though I praise her skin by snow,

FAIR VIRTUE 77

Or by pearls her double row, 'Tis that you might gather thence Her unmatched excellence.

Eyes as fair for eyes hath she As stars fair for stars may be ; 1960

And each part as fair doth show, In it kind, as white in snow. 'Tis no grace to her at all If her hair I sunbeams call : For, were there a power in art So to portrait every part, All men might those beauties see As they do appear to me. I would scorn to make compare With the glorious' t things that are. 1970

Nought I e'er saw fair enow But the hair, the hair to show. Yet some think him overbold That compares it but to gold. He from reason seems to err, Who, commending of his dear, Gives her lips the ruby's hue, Or by pearls her teeth doth show. But what pearls, what rubies can Seem so lovely fair to man, 1980

As her lips whom he doth love, When in sweet discourse they move, Or her lovelier teeth, the while She doth bless him with a smile ?

Stars indeed fair creatures be, Yet amongst us where is he

78 FAIR VIRTUE

Joys not more the while he lies

Sunning in his mistress' eyes,

Than in all the glimmering light

Of a starry winter's night ? 1990

Him to flatter most suppose, That prefers before the rose Or the lilies, while they grow, Or the flakes of new-fall'n snow, Her complexion whom he loveth ; And yet this my Muse approveth. For, in such a beauty, meets Unexpressed moving sweets, That the like unto them no man Ever saw but in a woman. 2000

Look on moon, on stars, on sun, All God's creatures overrun, See if all of them presents To your mind such sweet contents ; Or, if you from them can take Ought that may a beauty make, Shall one half so pleasing prove, As is hers whom you do love ? For indeed, if there had been Other mortal beauties seen, 2010

Objects for the love of man, Vain was their creation than. Yea, if this could well be granted, Adam might his Eve have wanted. But a woman is the creature Whose proportion with our nature 1. 1998. Gutch printed ' Unexpressive.'

FAIR VIRTUE 79

Best agrees, and whose perfections

Sympathize with our affections,

And not only finds our senses

Pleasure in their excellences, 2020

But our reason also knows

Sweetness in them, that outgoes

Human wit to comprehend,

Much more, truly, to commend.

Note the beauty of an eye ; And if ought you praise it by Leave such passion in your mind, Let my reason's eye be blind. Mark if ever red or white Anywhere gave such delight 2030

As when they have taken place In a worthy woman's face. He that so much hath not noted, Will not, or is grown besotted.

Such as lovers are conceive What impressions beauty leave And those hearts that fire have took By a love-inflaming look, Those believe what here I say, And suppose not that I stray 2040

In a word, by setting forth Any praise beyond true worth.

And yet, wherefore should I care What another's censures are, Since I know her to be such

L 2025- 1622 and 1633 print 'any eye."

So FAIR VIRTUE

As no praise can be too much ?

All that see her will agree

In the self-same mind with me,

If their wit be worth the having,

Or their judgment merit craving. 2050

And the man that kens her not,

Speaks, at best, he knows not what :

So his envy or good will,

Neither doth her good nor ill.

Then fools' cavils I disdain, And call back my Muse again To decipher out the rest, For I have too long digressed.

This is she, in whom there meets All variety of sweets. 2060

An epitome of all That on earth we fair may call. Nay, yet more I dare aver : He that is possess'd of her, Shall at once all pleasure find, That is reap'd from womankind.

Oh, what man would further range, That in one might find such change ? What dull eye such worth can see, And not sworn a lover be? 2070

Or from whence was he, could prove Such a monster in his love, As in thought to use amiss Such unequall'd worth as this ? Pity 'twere that such a creature, Phcenix-like for matchless feature,

FAIR VIRTUE Sr

Should so suffer, or be blamed

With what now the times are shamed.

Beauty, unto me divine,

Makes my honest thoughts incline 2080

Unto better things than that Which the vulgar aimeth at. And, I vow, I grieve to see Any fair and false to be ; Or when I sweet pleasures find Match'd with a defiled mind. But above all others her So much doth my soul prefer, That to him, whose ill desire Should so nurse a lawless fire 2090

As to tempt to that which might Dim her sacred virtue's light, I could wish that he might die Ere he did it, though 'twere I.

For if she should hap to stray, All this beauty would away, And not her alone undo, But kill him that prais'd her, too. But I know her Maker will Keep her undistained still, 2100

That ensuing ages may Pattern out by her the way To all goodness ; and if Fate That appoints all things a date Hear me would, I'd wish that she Might for aye preserved be. And that neither wasting cares, VOL. II. 6

$2 FAIR VIRTUE

Neither all-consuming years,

Might from what she is estrange her,

Or in mind or body change her. 2110

For oh, why should envious Time

Perpetrate so vile a crime

As to waste, or wrong, or stain,

What shall ne'er be match'd again ?

Much I hope it shall not be : For, if Love deceive not me, To that height of fair she grows, Age or sickness, beauty's foes, Cannot so much wrong it there, But enough there will appear, 2120

Ever worthy to be loved ; And that heart shall more be moved, Where there is a judging eye, With those prints it doth espy Of her beauty wrong'd by Time, Than by others in their prime.

One advantage she hath more, That adds grace to all before. It is this — her beauty's fame Hath not done her honour shame. 2130

For where beauty we do find, Envy still is so unkind That although their virtues are Such as pass their beauties far, Yet on slander's rocks they be Shipwreck'd oftentimes, we see ; And are subject to the wrongs Of a thousand spiteful tongues,

FAIR VIRTUE 83

When the greatest fault they had

Was that some would make them bad, 2140

And not finding them for action,

Sought for vengeance by detraction.

But her beauty sure no tongue Is so villainous to wrong. Never did the jealous't ear Any muttering rumour hear That might cause the least suspects Of indifferent defects. And, which somewhat stranger is, They whose slanders few can miss, 2150

Though set on by evil will And habituated ill, Nothing can of her invent Whence to frame disparagement ; Which, if we respect the crimes Of these loose injurious times, Doth not only truly prove Great discretion in her love, And that she hath liv'd upright In each jealous tongue's despite, 2160

But it must be understood That her private thoughts are good. Yea, 'tis an apparent sign That her beauty is divine : And that angels have a care Men's polluting tongues should spare To defile what God hath given To be dear to earth and heaven.

Tell me, you that hear me now,

84 FAIR VIRTUE

Is there any one of you 2170

Wanteth feeling of affection,

Or that loves not such perfection ?

Can there be so dull an ear

As of so much worth to hear,

And not seriously incline

To this saint-like friend of mine ?

If there be, the fault doth lie

In my artless poesy.

For if I could reach the strain

Which methinks I might obtain, 2l8o

Or but make my measures fly,

Equal with my fantasy,

I would not permit an ear

To attend unravish'd here,

If but so much sense it knew

As the blocks that Orpheus drew.

Think on this description well, And your noblest ladies tell ; Which of you, that worth can see, This my mistress would not be ? 2190

You brave English, who have run From the rising of the sun, Till in travelling you found Where he doth conclude his round ; You, that have the beauties seen, Which in farthest lands have been ; And survey'd the fair resorts Of the French and Spanish courts, With the best that fame renowns In the rich trans-Alpine towns, 2200

FAIR VIRTUE 85

Do not, with our brainless firy That admire each novelty, Wrong your country's fame in ought But here freely speak your thought ; And I durst presume you'll swear She's not matched anywhere.

Gallants, you that would so fain Nymphs' and ladies' loves obtain, You that strive to serve and please Fairest queens and empresses, 22 IO

Tell me this and tell me right, If you would not, so you might, Leave them all despis'd, to prove What contents are in her love ?

Could your fathers ever tell Of a nymph did more excel ? Or hath any story told Of the like, in times of old ? Dido was not such a one, Nor the Trojan's paragon, 2220

Though they so much favour found, As to have their honours crown'd By the best of poets' pens, Ever known before, or since.

For had Dido been so fair, Old Anchises' noble heir Jove's command had disobeyed, And with her in Carthage stayed, Where he would have quite forswore Seeing the Lavinian shore. 2230

Or, had Leda's daughter been,

86 FAIR VIRTUE

When she was the Spartan queen, Equal with this lovely one, Menelaus had never gone From her sight so far away As to leave her for a prey, And his room to be possest By her wanton Phrygian guest.

But lest yet among you some Think she may behind these come, 2240

Stay a little more and hear me, In another strain I'll rear me. I'll unmask a beauty, now, Which to kiss the gods may bow, And so feelingly did move, That your souls shall fall in love.

I have yet the best behind : Her most fair, unequall'd mind. This that I have here expressed Is but that which veils the rest, 2250

An incomparable shrine, Of a beauty more divine.

Whereof ere I farther speak, Off again my song I'll break, And if you among the roses, Which yon quickset hedge encloses, Will with plucking flowers beguile Tedious-seeming time awhile, Till I step to yonder green, Whence the sheep so plain are seen, 2260 I will be returned ere You an hour have stay'd there.

FAIR VIRTUE 87

And excuse me now, I pray,

Though I rudely go away,

For affairs I have to do,

Which, unless I look into,

I may sing out summer here

Like the idle grasshopper,

And at winter hide my head,

Or else fast till I am dead. 2270

Yet if rustic past'ral measures Can aught add unto your pleasures, I will leave you some of those Which it pleas'd me to compose When despairing fits were over, And I, made a happy lover, Exercis'd my loving passion In another kind of fashion Than to utter I devised, When I feared to be despised. 2280

Those shall lie in gage for me Till I back returned be, And in writing here you have them ; Either sing, or read, or leave them.

SONNET I.

ADMIRE not, shepherd's boy, Why I my pipe forbear ; My sorrows and my joy Beyond expression are.

Though others may

In songs display 2290

Their passions, when they woo,

FAIR VIRTUE

Yet mine do fly

A pitch too high

For words to reach unto.

If such weak thoughts as those With others' fancies move, Or if my breast did close But common strains of love,

Or passion's store

Learned me no more 2300

To feel than others do,

I'd paint my cares

As black as theirs, And teach my lines to woo.

But oh ! thrice happy ye Whose mean conceit is dull, You from those thoughts are free That stuff my breast so full :

My love's excess

Lets to express 2310

What songs are used to,

And my delights

Take such high flights, My joys will me undo.

I have a love that's fair, Rich, wise, and nobly born ; She's true perfection's heir, Holds nought but vice in scorn.

FAIR VIRTUE 89

A heart to find

More chaste, more kind, 2320

Our plains afford no moe ;

Of her degree

No blab I'll be, For doubt some prince should woo.

And yet I do not fear, Though she my meanness knows, The willow branch to wear, No, nor the yellow hose.

For if great Jove

Should sue for love, 2330

She would not me forego ;

Resort I may

By night or day, Which braver dare not do.

You gallants, born to pelf, To lands, to titles' store, I'm born but to myself, Nor do I care for more.

Add to your earth,

Wealth, honours, birth, 2340

And all you can thereto,

You cannot prove

That height of love Which I in meanness do.

Great men have helps to gain Those favours they implore ;

90 FAIR VIRTUE

Which, though I win with pain, I find my joys the more.

Each clown may rise,

And climb the skies, 23S°

When he hath found a stair :

But joy to him

That dares to climb, And hath no help but air.

Some say that love repents Where fortunes disagree ; I know the high'st contents From low beginnings be.

My love's unfeigned

To her that deigned 2360

From greatness stoop thereto ;

She loves 'cause I,

So mean, dared try Her better worth to woo.

And yet, although much joy My fortune seems to bless, 'Tis mix'd with more annoy Than I shall e'er express :

For with much pain

Did I obtain 2370

The gem I'll ne'er forego,

Which yet I dare

Nor show, nor wear, And that breeds all my woe.

FAIR VIRTUE 91

But fie, my foolish tongue, How loosely now it goes ! First let my knell be rung, Ere I do more disclose.

Mount thoughts on high,

Cease words, for why 2380

My meaning to divine,

To those I leave

That can conceive So brave a love as mine.

And now no more I'll sing Among my fellow swains ; Nor groves nor hills shall ring With echoes of my plains.

My measures be

Confused, you see, 2390

And will not suit thereto ;

'Cause I have more

Brave thoughts in store Than words can reach unto.

SONNET 2.

HENCE, away, you Sirens, leave me, And unclasp your wanton arms ; Sugar'd words shall ne'er deceive me, Though thou prove a thousand charms;

Fie, fie, forbear ;

No common snare 2400

Could ever my affection chain :

92 FAIR VIRTUE

Your painted baits

And poor deceits

Are all bestow'd on me in vain.

I'm no slave to such as you be ; Neither shall a snowy breast, Wanton eye, or lip of ruby, Ever rob me of my rest.

Go, go, display

Your beauty's ray 2410

To some o'er-soon enamour'd swain.

Those common wiles

Of sighs and smiles Are all bestow'd on me in vain.

I have elsewhere vow'd a duty ; Turn away thy tempting eyes. Show not me a naked beauty, Those impostures I despise.

My spirit loathes

Where gaudy clothes 2420

And feigned oaths may love obtain.

I love her so,

Whose look swears no, That all your labours will be vain.

Can he prize the tainted posies Which on every breast are worn, That may pluck the spotless roses From their never-touched thorn?

FAIR VIRTUE 93

I can go rest

On her sweet breast, 2430

That is the pride of Cynthia's train :

Then hold your tongues,

Your mermaid songs Are all bestow'd on me in vain.

He's a fool that basely dallies Where each peasant mates with him. Shall I haunt the thronged valleys Whilst there's noble hills to climb ?

No, no ; though clowns

Are scared with frowns, 2440

I know the best can but disdain :

And those I'll prove ;

So shall your love Be all bestow'd on me in vain.

Yet I would not deign embraces With the greatest, fairest she, If another shared those graces Which had been bestow'd on me.

I gave that one

My love where none 2450

Shall come to rob me of my gain.

Your fickle hearts

Makes tears and arts And all bestow'd on me in vain.

I do scorn to vow a duty Where each lustful lad may woo.

94 FAIR VIRTUE

Give me her whose sun-like beauty Buzzards dare not soar unto.

She, she it is

Affords that bliss 2460

For which I would refuse no pain.

But such as you,

Fond fools, adieu ; You seek to captive me in vain.

Proud she seem'd in the beginning, And disdained my looking on ; But that coy one in the winning Proves a true one being won.

Whate'er betide

She'll ne'er divide 2470

The favour she to me shall deign.

But your fond love

Will fickle prove, And all that trust in you are vain.

Therefore know, when I enjoy one, And for love employ my breath, She I court shall be a coy one, Though I win her with my death.

A favour there

Few aim at dare. 2480

And if, perhaps, some lover plain,

She is not won,

Nor I undone, By placing of my love in vain.

FAIR VIRTUE 95

Leave me then, you Sirens, leave me, Seek no more to work my harms ; Crafty wiles cannot deceive me, Who am proof against your charms.

You labour may

To lead astray 2490

The heart that constant shall remain,

And I the while

Will sit and smile To see you spend your time in vain.

SONNET 3.

WHEN Philomela with her strains

The spring had welcomed in, And Flora to bestrow the plains

With daisies did begin, My love and I, on whom suspicious eyes

Had set a thousand spies, 2500

To cozen Argus strove ; And seen of none We got alone Into a shady grove.

On every bush the eglantine,

With leaves perfumed hung, The primrose made the hedgerows fine,

The woods of music rung. The earth, the air, and all things did conspire

To raise contentment higher ; 2510

96 FAIR VIRTUE

That, had I come to woo,

Nor means of grace,

Nor time, nor place, Were wanting thereunto.

With hand in hand alone we walked,

And oft each other eyed ; Of love and passions past we talked,

Which our poor hearts had tried. Our souls infus'd into each other were :

And what may be her care, 2520

Did my more sorrow breed ; One mind we bore, One faith we swore, And both in one agreed.

Her dainty palm I gently prest,

And with her lips I play'd ; My cheek upon her panting breast,

And on her neck I laid. And yet we had no sense of wanton lust :

Nor did we then mistrust 2S3O

The poison in the sweet ; Our bodies wrought So close, we thought, Because our souls should meet.

With pleasant toil we breathless grew,

And kiss'd in warmer blood ; Upon her lips the honey-dew

Like drops on roses stood ;

FAIR VIRTUE 97

And on those flowers play'd I the busy bee,

Whose sweets were such to me, 2540

Them could I not forego. No, not to feast On Venus' breast,

Whence streams of sweetness flow.

But kissing and embracing we

So long together lay, Her touches all inflamed me,

And I began to stray. My hands presum'd so far, they were too bold ;

My tongue unwisely told 255°

How much my heart was changed. And virtue quite Was put to flight, Or for the time estranged.

Oh ! what are we, if in our strength

We over-boldly trust ? The strongest forts will yield at length,

And so our virtues must. In me no force of reason had prevailed

If she had also failed ; 2560

But ere I further strayed, She sighing kissed My naked wrist, And thus in tears she said :

"Sweetheart," quoth she, " if in thy breast

Those virtues real be, VOL. ii. 7

98 FAIR VIRTUE

Which hitherto thou hast profest,

And I believed in thee, Thyself and me, oh, seek not to abuse.

Whilst thee I thus refuse 2570

In hotter flames I fry ; Yet let us not Our true love spot, Oh, rather let me die.

" For if thy heart should fall from good,

What would become of mine ? As strong a passion stirs my blood,

As can distemper thine. Yet in my breast this rage I smother would,

Though it consume me should, 2580

And my desires contain : For where we see Such breaches be, They seldom stop again.

" Are we the two that have so long Each other's loves embraced ? And never did affection wrong,

Nor think a thought unchaste ? And shall, oh, shall we now our matchless joy

For one poor touch destroy, 259O

And all content forego ? Oh no, my dear ; Sweetheart, forbear ; I will not lose thee so.

FAIR VIRTUE 99

For, should we do a deed so base,

As it can never be, I could no more have seen thy face,

Nor would'st thou look on me. I should of all our passions grow ashamed,

And blush when thou art named ; 2600 Yea, though thou constant wert, I being nought, A jealous thought Would still torment my heart.

"What goodly thing do we obtain

If I consent to thee ? Rare joys we lose, and what we gain

But common pleasures be : Yea, those, some say, who are to lust inclin'd,

Drive love out of the mind ; 2610

And so much reason miss, That they admire What kind of fire A chaste affection is.

" No vulgar bliss I aimed at

When first I heard thee woo ; I'll never prize a man for that Which every groom can do. If that be love, the basest men that be

Do love as well as we, 2620

ioo FAIR VIRTUE

Who, if we bear us well,

Do pass them then,

As angels men In glory do excel."

Whilst thus she spake a cruel band

Of passions seized my soul, And what one seemed to command,

Another did control. 'Twixt good and ill I did divided lie.

But as I raised mine eye, 2630

In her methought I saw

Those virtues shine

Whose rays divine

First gave desire a law.

With that I felt the blush of shame

Into my cheeks return ; And love did with a chaster flame

Within my bosom burn. My soul her light of reason had renew'd ;

And by those beams I view'd 2640

How slyly lust ensnares : And all the fires Of ill desires I quenched with my tears.

Go, wantons, now, and flout at this

My coldness, if you list ; Vain fools, you never knew the bliss

That doth in love consist.

FAIR VIRTUE 101

You sigh, and weep, and labour to enjoy

A shade, a dream, a toy ; 2650

Poor folly you pursue ; And are unblessed, Since every beast

In pleasure equals you.

You never took so rich content,

In all your wanton play, As this to me hath pleasure lent,

That chaste she went away. For as some sins which we committed have,

Sharp stings behind them leave, 2660 Whereby we vexed are, So ill suppressed Begetteth rest And peace without compare.

But lest this conquest slight you make,

Which on myself I won, Twelve labours I will undertake

With Jove's victorious son, Ere I will such another brunt endure.

For, had Diana pure 2670

Thus tempted been to sin,

That queen of night,

With her chaste light,

Had scarce a maiden bin.

102 FAIR VIRTUE

OH ! how honoured are my songs, Graced by your melodious tongues ! And how pleasing do they seem, Now your voices carol them ! Were not yet that task to do, Which my word enjoins me to, 2680

I should beg of you to hear What your own inventions were. But before I ought will crave, What I promised you shall have. And as I on mortal creatures Call'd, to view her body's features, Showing how to make the senses Apprehend her excellences, Now I speak of no worse subject Than a soul's and reason's object : 2690

And relate a beauty's glories, Fitting heavenly auditories. Therefore, whilst I sit and sing, Hem me, angels, in a ring ; Come, ye spirits, which have eyes That can gaze on deities, And unclogg'd with brutish senses, Comprehend such excellences. Or, if any mortal ear

Would be granted leave to hear, 2700

And find profit with delight In what now I shall indite, Let him first be sure to season A prepared heart with reason :

FAIR VIRTUE 103

And with judgment drawing nigh, Lay all fond affections by. So, through all her veilings, he Shall the soul of beauty see.

But avoid, you earth-bred wights, Cloy'd with sensual appetites : 2710

On base objects glut your eyes, Till your starveling pleasure dies : Feed your ears with such delights, As may match your gross conceits : For, within your muddy brain, These you never can contain.

Think not, you who by the sense Only judge of excellence, Or do all contentment place In the beauty of a face, 2720

That these higher thoughts of our Soar so base a pitch as your. I can give, as well as you, Outward beauties all their due : I can most contentments see, That in love or women be.

Though I dote not on the features Of our daintiest female creatures, Nor was e'er so void of shames As to play their lawless games, 2730

I more prize a snowy hand Than the gold on Tagus' strand, And a dainty lip before All the greatest monarch's store. Yea, from these I reap as true

io4 FAIR VIRTUE

And as large contents as you.

Yet to them I am not tied : I have rarer sweets espied, Wider prospects of true pleasure, Than your curbed thoughts can measure. 2740 In her soul my soul descries Objects that may feed her eyes. And the beauty of her mind Shows my reason where to find All my former pleasure doubled, Neither with such passion troubled, As wherewith it oft was crost, Nor so easy to be lost.

I that ravish'd lay. well-nigh, By the lustre of her eye, 2750

And had almost sworn affection To the fore-express'd perfection, As if nothing had been higher Whereunto I might aspire, Now have found, by seeking nearer, Inward worth that shining clearer By a sweet and secret moving, Draws me to a dearer loving. And whilst I that love conceive, Such impressions it doth leave 2760

In the intellective part, As defaceth from my heart Every thought of those delights Which allure base appetites ; And my mind so much employs In contemplating those joys

FAIR VIRTUE 105

Which a purer sight doth find

In the beauty of her mind,

That I so thereon am set,

As methinks I could forget 2770

All her sweetest outward graces,

Though I lay in her embraces.

But some, thinking with a smile What they would have done the while. Now suppose my words are such As exceed my power too much. For all those our wantons hold Void of vigour, dull, and cold, Or at best but fools, whose flame Makes not way unto their shame, 2780

Though at length with grief they see They the fools do prove to be.

These the body so much minded, That their reason, over-blinded By the pleasures of the sense, Hides from them that excellence, And that sweetness, whose true worth I am here to blazon forth.

'Tis not, 'tis not those rare graces That do lurk in women's faces, 2790

'Tis not a display'd perfection, Youthful eyes, nor clear complexion, Nor a skin, smooth satin like, Nor a dainty rosy cheek, That to wantonness can move Such as virtuously do love. Beauty rather gently draws

io6 FAIR VIRTUE

Wild desires to reason's laws ;

And oft frights men from that sin

They had else transgressed in, 2800

Through a sweet amazement strook

From an over-ruling look.

Beauty never tempteth men

To lasciviousness, but when

Careless idleness hath brought

Wicked longings into thought.

Nor doth youth, or heat of blood,

Make men prove what is not good,

Nor the strength of which they vaunt ;

'Tis the strength and power they want ; 2810

And the baseness of the mind

Makes their brute desires inclin'd

To pursue those vain delights

Which affect their appetites ;

And so blinded do they grow,

Who are overtaken so,

As their dullness cannot see,

Nor believe that better be.

Some have blood as hot as their, Whose affections loosest are ; 2820

Bodies that require no art To supply weak Nature's part ; Youth they have ; and sure might, too, Boast of what some shameless do ; Yet their minds, that aim more high Than those baser pleasures lie, Taught by virtue can suppress All attempts of wantonness,

FAIR VIRTUE 107

And such powerful motives frame

To extinguish passion's flame, 2830

That, by reason's good direction,

Qualifying loose affection,

They'll in midst of beauty's fires

Walk unscorch'd of ill desires ;

Yet no such as stupid shame

Keeps from actions worthy blame,

But in all so truly man,

That their apprehensions can

Prize the body's utmost worth,

And find many pleasures forth 2840

In those beauties — more than you,

That abuse them, ever knew.

But perhaps her outward grace, Here described, hath ta'en such place In some o'er-enamour'd breast, And so much his heart possessed, As he thinks it passeth telling, How she may be more excelling, Or what worth I can prefer To be more admired in her. 2850

Therefore now I will be brief, To prevent that misbelief. And if there be present here Any one whose nicer ear Tasks my measures as offending, In too seriously commending What affects the sense, or may Injure virtue any way, Let them know 'tis understood

io8 FAIR VIRTUE

That if they were truly good, 2860

It could never breed offence

That I showed the excellence,

With the power of God and nature,

In the beauty of his creature :

They from thence would rather raise

Cause to meditate his praise,

And thus think : How fair must He

That hath made this fair one be !

That was my proposed end, And to make them more attend 2870

Unto this, so much excelling, As it passeth means of telling.

But, at worst, if any strain Makes your memories retain Sparks of such a baneful fire As may kindle ill desire, This that follows after shall Not alone extinguish all, But e'en make you blush with shame, That your thoughts were so to blame. 2880 Yet I know, when I have done, In respect of that bright sun Whose inestimable light I would blazon to your sight, These ensuing flashes are As to Cynthia's beams a star ; Or a petty comet's ray, To the glorious eye of day. For what power of words or art Can her worth at full impart ? 2890

FAIR VIRTUE 109

Or what is there may be found, Plac'd within the senses' bound, That can paint those sweets to me, Which the eyes of love do see ? Or the beauties of that mind Which her body hath enshrined ?

Can I think the Guide of Heaven Hath so bountifully given Outward features, cause He meant To have made less excellent 2900

Her divine part ? Or suppose Beauty goodness doth oppose, Like those fools who do despair To find any good and fair? Rather there I seek a mind Most excelling, where I find God hath to the body lent Most beseeming ornament. But, though he that did inspire First the true Promethean fire, 2910

In each several soul did place Equal excellence and grace, As some think, yet have not they Equal beauties every way. For they more or less appear As the outward organs are : Following much the temp'rature Of the body, gross or pure. And I do believe it true,

That, as we the body view 2920

Nearer to perfection grow,

i io FAIR VIRTUE

So the soul herself doth show Others more and more excelling In her power, as in her dwelling. For that pureness giveth way, Better to disclose each ray To the dull conceit of man, - Than a grosser substance can. Thus, through spotless crystal, we May the day's full glory ^e ; 2930

When, if clearest sunbeams pass Through a foul polluted glass, So discolour' d they'll appear, As those stains they shone through were.

Let no critic cavil then, If I dare affirm again That her mind's perfections are Fairer than her body's far ; And I need not prove it by Axioms of philosophy, 2940

Since no proof can better be Than their rare effect in me. For, while other men complaining, Tell their mistresses' disdaining, Free from care I write a story Only of her worth and glory.

While most lovers pining sit, Robb'd of liberty and wit, Vassaling themselves with shame To some proud imperious dame, 295O

Or in songs their fate bewailing, Show the world their faithless failing,

FAIR VIRTUE in

I, enwreath'd with boughs of myrtle, Fare like the beloved turtle.

Yea, while most are most untoward, Peevish, vain, inconstant, froward, While their best contentments bring Nought but after-sorrowing, She those childish humours slighting Hath conditions so delighting, 2960

And doth so my bliss endeavour, As my joy increaseth ever.

By her actions I can see That her passions so agree Unto reason, as they err Seldom to distemper her.

Love she can, and doth, but so As she will not overthrow Love's content by any folly, Or by deeds that are unholy. 2970

Dotingly she ne'er affects ; Neither willingly neglects Honest love ; but means doth find With discretion to be kind. 'Tis nor thund'ring phrase, nor oaths, Honours, wealth, nor painted clothes, That can her good liking gain, If no other worth remain.

Never took her heart delight In your court-hermaphrodite, 2980

Or such frothy gallants as For the time's heroes pass, Such who, still in love, do all

H2 FAIR VIRTUE

Fair, and sweet, and lady call, And where'er they hap to stray, Either prate the rest away, Or of all discourse to seek Shuffle in at cent or gleek.

Goodness more delights her than All their mask of folly can. 2990

Fond she hateth to appear, Though she hold her friend as dear As her part of life unspent, Or the best of her content.

If the heat of youthful fires Warm her blood with those desires Which are by the course of nature Stirred in every perfect creature, As those passions kindle, so Doth Heaven's grace and reason grow 3000 Abler to suppress in her Those rebellions, and they stir Never more affection then One good thought allays again.

I could say so chaste is she As the new-blown roses be ; Or the drifts of snow that none Ever touch'd or look'd upon. But that were not worth a fly, Seeing so much chastity 3010

Old Pygmalion's picture had : Yea, those eunuchs, born or made Ne'er to know desire, might say She deserv'd no more than they ;

FAIR VIRTUE 113

Whereas, whilst their worth proceeds

From such wants as they must needs

Be unmov'd, 'cause nature framed

No affections to be tamed,

Through her dainty limbs are spread

Vigour, heat, and freely shed 3020

Life-blood into every vein,

Till they fill and swell again :

And no doubt they strive to force

Way in some forbidden course,

Which by grace she still resists,

And so curbs within their lists

Those desires, that she is chaster

Than if she had none to master.

Malice never lets she in,

Neither hates she ought but sin. 3030

Envy if she could admit, There's no means to nourish it, For her gentle heart is pleased When she knows another's eased : And there's none who ever got That perfection she hath not. So that no cause is there why She should any one envy.

Mildly angry she'll appear, That the baser rout may fear 3°4O

Through presumption to misdo : Yet she often feigns that too. But let wrong be whatsoever, She gives way to choler never.

If she e'er of vengeance thought

VOL. II. 8

114 FAIR VIRTUE

'Twas nor life nor blood was sought,

But, at most, some prayer to move

Justice for abused love,

Or that fate would pay again

Love's neglectors with disdain. 3°5°

If she ever crav'd of fate To obtain a higher state, Or ambitiously were given, Sure, 'twas but to climb to heaven. Pride is from her heart as far As the poles in distance are. For her worth, nor all this praise, Can her humble spirit raise Less to prize me than before, Or herself to value more. 3060

Were she vain, she might allege 'Twere her sex's privilege. But she's such as doubtless no man Knows less folly in a woman.

To prevent a being idle, Sometime, with her curious needle, Though it be her meanest glory, She so limns an antique story, As Minerva, would she take it,

Might her richest sample make it. 3070

Otherwhile, again, she rather

Labours with delight to gather

Knowledge from such learned writs

As are left by famous wits,

Where she chiefly seeks to know

God, herself, and what we owe

FAIR VIRTUE 115

To our neighbour, since with these Come all needful knowledges.

She, with Adam, never will Long to learn both good and ill ; 3080

But her state well understood, Rests herself content with good.

Avarice abhorreth she As the loathsom'st things that be ; Since she knows it is an ill That doth ripest virtue kill, And, where'er it comes to rest, Though in some strict matron's breast. Be she ne'er so seeming just, I'll no shows of goodness trust. 3090

For, if you but gold can bring, Such are hired to any thing.

If you think she jealous be, You are wide, for credit me, Her strong'st jealousies nought are Other than an honest care Of her friends ; and most can tell Whoso wants that, loves not well.

Though some little fear she shows, 'Tis no more than love allows : 3100

So the passion do not move her Till she grieve or wrong her lover. She may think he may do ill, Though she'll not believe he will : Nor can such a harmless thought Blemish true affection ought ; Rather, whenas else it would

Ii6 FAIR VIRTUE

Through security grow cold,

This her passion, keeping measure,

Strengthens love and sweetens pleasure. 3110

Cruelty her soul detests, For within her bosom rests Noblest pity, usher'd by An unequall'd courtesy, And is griev'd at good men's moan As the grief were all her own.

Just she is ; so just, that I Know she would not wrong a fly, Or oppress the meanest thing To be mistress to a king. 3120

If our painters would include Temperance and Fortitude In one picture, she would fit For the nonce to pattern it. Patient as the lamb is she, Harmless as the turtles be ; Yea, so largely stor'd with all Which we mortals goodness call. That if ever virtue were,

Or may be, incarnate here, 3130

This is she, whose praises I Offer to eternity.

She's no image trimmed about, Fair within and foul without, But a gem that doth appear Like the diamond, everywhere Sparkling rays of beauty forth, All of such unblemish'd worth,

FAIR VIRTUE 117

That, were 't possible your eye

Might her inmost thoughts espy, 3140

And behold the dimmest part

Of the lustre in her heart,

It would find that centre pass

What the superficies was.

And that every angle there

Like a diamond's inside were.

For, although that excellence Pass the piercing's! eye of sense, By their operations we

Guess at things that hidden be. 3150

So, beyond our common reach, Wise men can by reason teach What the influences been Of a planet when unseen, Or the beauty of a star That doth shine above us far. So, by that wide-beaming light Wherewith Titan courts our sight, By his clothing of the earth, By the wondrous, various birth Of new creatures yearly bred Through his heat, and nourished, And by many virtues moe, Which our senses reach unto, We conclude they are not all Which make fair that goodly ball.

Though she prize her honour more Than the far-fetched precious store Of the rich Molucchi, or

Ii8 FAIR VIRTUE

All the wealth was traffick'd for, 3170

Since our vessels passage knew

Unto Mexico, Peru,

Or those spacious kingdoms which

Make the proud Iberians rich,

'Tis not that uncertain blast

Keeps my mistress good or chaste.

She that but for honour's sake

Doth of ill a conscience make,

More in fear what rumour says,

Than in love to virtuous ways ; 3180

Though she seem'd more civil than

You have seen a courtesan

For an honour, and cries, oh, fie !

At each show of vanity ;

Though she censure all that be

Not so foolish coy as she ;

Though she with the Roman dame

Kill herself to purchase fame ;

She would prostitute become

To the meanest, basest groom, 3190

If so closely they may do it

As the world should never know it.

So at best those women prove That for honour virtue love. Give me her that goodness chooseth For its own sake, and refuseth To have greatest honours gain'd With her secret conscience stain'd. Give me her that would be poor, Die disgrac'd, nay, thought a whore, 3200

FAIR VIRTUE 119

And each time's reproach become,

Till the general day of doom,

Rather than consent to act

Pleasing sin, though by the fact,

With esteem of virtuous, she

Might the German Empress be.

Such my mistress is, and nought

Shall have power to change her thought ;

Pleasures cannot tempt her eye

On their baits to glance awry, 32I°

For their good she still esteems

As it is, not as it seems,

And she takes no comfort in

Sweetest pleasure sour'd with sin.

By herself she hath such care, That her actions decent are. For, were she in secret hid, None might see her what she did, She would do as if for spies Every wall were stuck with eyes, 3220

And be chary of her honour 'Cause the heavens do look upon her. And oh, what had power to move Flames of lust, or wanton love, So far to disparage us, If we all were minded thus ? These are beauties that shall last When the crimson blood shall waste, And the shining hair wax grey, Or with age be worn away. 323°

These yield pleasures such as might

120 FAIR VIRTUE

Be remembered with delight, When we gasp our latest breath On the loathed bed of death.

Though discreetly speak she can, She'll be silent rather than Talk while others may be heard, As if she did hate or fear'd Their condition who will force All to wait on their discourse. 324°

Reason hath on her bestow'd More of knowledge than she ow'd To that sex, and grace with it Doth aright her practice fit.

Yet hath fate so framed her, As she may at sometime err : But if e'er her judgment stray, 'Tis that other women may Those much pleasing beauties see Which in yielding natures be. 325°

For since no perfection can Here on earth be found in man, There's more good in free submissions Than there's ill in our transgressions. Should you hear her once contend, In discoursing, to defend, As she can, a doubtful cause, She such strong positions draws From known truths, and doth apply Reasons with such majesty, 3260

As if she did undertake From some oracle to speak :

FAIR VIRTUE 121

And you could not think what might Breed more love or more delight.

Yet, if you should mark again Her discreet behaviour when She finds reason to repent Some wrong-pleaded argument, She so temperately lets all Her mis-held opinions fall, 327°

And can with such mildness bow, As 'twill more enamour you Than her knowledge : for there are Pleasing sweets without compare In such yieldings, which do prove Wit, humility, and love. Yea, by those mistakings you Her condition so shall know, And the nature of her mind So undoubtedly shall find, 3280

As will make her more endear'd Than if she had never err'd.

Farther, that she nought may miss Which worth praise in woman is, This unto the rest I add : If I wound or sickness had, None should for my curing run, No, not to Apollo's son ; She so well the virtue knows, Of each needful herb that grows, 3290

And so fitly can apply Salves to every malady, That if she no succour gave me,

122 FAIR VIRTUE

'Twere no means of art could save me.

Should my soul oppressed lie, Sunk with grief and sorrow nigh, She hath balm for minds distrest, And could ease my pained breast. She so well knows how to season Passionate discourse with reason, 33<X)

And knows how to sweeten it, Both with so much love and wit, That it shall prepare the sense To give way with less offence. For griev'd minds can ill abide Counsel churlishly applied, Which, instead of comfortings, Desperation often brings.

But hark, nymphs, methinks I hear Music sounding in mine ear. 33 !O

JTis a lute, and he's the best For a voice in all the west That doth touch it. And the swain I would have you hear so fain, That my song forbear will I, To attend his melody.

Hither comes he day by day, In these groves to sing and play. And in yon close arbour he Sitteth now, expecting me. 3320

He so bashful is, that mute Will his tongue be, and his lute, Should he happen to espy This unlook'd-for company.

FAIR VIRTUE 123

If you, therefore, list to hear him, Let's with silence walk more near him. 'Twill be worth your pains, believe me, If a voice content may give ye, And await you shall not long, For he now begins a song. 333°

SONNET I.

WHAT is the cause, when elsewhere I resort, I have my gestures and discourse more free ? And, if I please, can any beauty court, Yet stand so dull and so demure by thee? Why are my speeches broken whilst I talk ? Why do I fear almost thy hand to touch ? Why dare I not embrace thee as we walk, Since with the greatest nymphs I've dared as much ? Ah ! know that none of those I e'er affected, And therefore used a careless courtship there, 3340 Because I neither their disdain respected, Nor reckoned them or their embraces dear. But, loving thee, my love hath found content And rich delights in things indifferent.

SONNET 2.

WHY covet I thy blessed eyes to see,

Whose sweet aspect may cheer the saddest mind ?

Why, when our bodies must divided be,

Can I no hour of rest or pleasure find ?

Why do I sleeping start, and waking moan,

To find that of my dreamed hopes I miss ? 335O

124 FAIR VIRTUE

Why do I often contemplate alone Of such a thing as thy perfection is ? And wherefore, when we meet, doth passion stop My speechless tongue, and leave me in a panting ? Why doth my heart, o'ercharged with fear and hope, In spite of reason, almost droop to fainting ? Because in me thy excellences moving Have drawn me to an excellence in loving.

SONNET 3.

FAIR, since thy virtues my affections move, And I have vow'd my purpose is to join 3360

In an eternal band of chastest love Our souls, to make a marriage most divine. Why, thou may'st think, then seemeth he to prize An outward beauty's fading hue so much ? Why doth he read such lectures in mine eyes ? And often strive my tender palm to touch ? Oh, pardon my presuming ; for I swear My love is soiled with no lustful spot : Thy soul's perfections through those veils appear, And I half faint that I embrace them not. 337<>

No foul desires doth make thy touches sweet : But my soul striveth with thy soul to meet.

SONNET 4.

SHALL I wasting in despair Die because a woman's fair ? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are ?

FAIR VIRTUE 125

Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May,

If she be not so to me

What care I how fair she be ? 3380

Should my heart be griev'd or pin'd 'Cause I see a woman kind ? Or a well-disposed nature Joined with a lovely feature ? Be she meeker, kinder than Turtle-dove or pelican,

If she be not so [to] me

What care I how kind she be ?

Shall a woman's virtues move

Me to perish for her love ? 3390

Or her well-deserving known,

Make me quite forget mine own?

Be she with that goodness blest

Which may gain her name of best,

If she be not such to me

What care I how good she l<e ?

'Cause her fortune seems too high,

Shall I play the fool and die ?

Those that bear a noble mind,

Where they want of riches find 3400

Think what with them they would do

That without them dare to woo. And unless that mind I see What care I though great she be ?

1. 3387. Editions of 1622 and 1633 omit ' to.'

126 FAIR VIRTUE

Great, or good, or kind, or fair,

I will ne'er the more despair ;

If she love me, this believe,

I will die ere she shall grieve.

If she slight me when I woo

I can scorn and let her go, 34-IO

For if she be not for me

What care I for whom she be?

SONNET 5.

I WANDERED out a while agone,

And went I know not whither :

But there do beauties many a one

Resort and meet together.

And Cupid's power will there be shown

If ever you come thither.

For like two suns, two beauties bright

I shining saw together, 342O

And tempted by their double light

My eyes I fix'd on either ;

Till both at once so thrall'd my sight,

I lov'd, and knew not whether.

Such equal sweet Venus gave, That I preferr'd not either, And when for love I thought to crave I knew not well of whether. For one while this I wish'd to have, And then I that had liefer. 343O

1. 3425. So 1622 and 1633. See Notes.

FAIR VIRTUE 127

A lover of the curious't eye Might have been pleas'd in either, And so, I must confess, might I, Had they not been together. Now both must love or both deny, In one enjoy I nekher.

But yet at last I 'scap'd the smart

I fear'd at coming hither ;

For seeing my divided heart,

I choosing, knew not whether, 3440

Love angry grew, and did depart,

And now I care for neither.

SEE, these trees so ill did hide us,

That the shepherd hath espied us,

And, as jealous of his cunning,

All in haste away is running.

To entreat him back again

Would be labour spent in vain.

You may therefore now betake ye

To the music I can make ye, 3450

Who do purpose my invention,

Shall pursue my first intention.

For in her whose worth I tell Many excellences dwell Yet unmention'd, whose perfections Worthy are of best affections.

That which is so rare to find, Both in man and womankind,

128 FAIR VIRTUE

That, whose absence love deface th,

And both sexes more disgraceth 3460

Than the spite of furrow'd age,

Sicknesses, or sorrow's rage,

That's the jewel so divine

Which doth on her forehead shine,

And therewith endow'd is she

In an excellent degree :

Constancy, I mean, the purest

Of all beauties, and the surest ;

For whoe'er doth that profess,

Hath an endless loveliness. 347°

All afflictions, labours, crosses, All our dangers, wounds, and losses, Games of pleasure we can make For that matchless woman's sake, In whose breast that virtue bideth ; And we joy whate'er betideth.

Most dejected hearts it gladdeth, Twenty thousand glories addeth Unto beauty's brightest ray, And preserves it from decay ; 'Tis the salt that's made to season Beauty for the use of reason ; 'Tis the varnish, and the oiling, Keeps her colours fresh from spoiling ; 'Tis an excellence whereby Age, though join'd with poverty, Hath more dear affection won Than fresh youth and wealth have done ; 'Tis a loveliness endearing

FAIR VIRTUE 129

Beauties scarce worth note appearing ; 3490 Whilst a fairer fickle dame Nothing gains but scorn and shame.

Further, 'tis a beauty such As I cannot praise too much, Nor frame measures to express, No, nor any man, unless He who more than all men crost Finds it in that woman lost, On whose faith he would have pawn'd Life, and all he could command. 35OO

Such a man may by that miss Make us know how dear it is, When, o'ercharg'd with grief, he shall Sigh, and break his heart withal.

This is that perfection which In her favour makes me rich. All whose beauties, named before, Else would but torment me more ; And in having this, I find, Whate'er haps, a quiet mind. 3510

Yea, 'tis that which I do prize Far above her lips, her eyes, Or that general beauty whence Shines each several excellence.

For, alas ! what gain'd hath he Who may clip the fairest she That the name of woman bears, If, unhappily, he fears Any other's worth may win What he thought his own had bin? 3520

VOL. ii. 9

130 FAIR VIRTUE

Him base-minded deem I should,

Who, although he were in hold,

Wrapp'd in chains, would not disdain

Love with her to entertain

That both daughter to a peer,

And most rich and lovely were,

When a brainless gull shall dare

In her favours with him share,

Or the action of a player

Rob him of a hope so fair. 353°

This I dread not : for I know Strained gestures, painted show, Shameless boastings, borrow'd jests, Female looks, gay-plumed crests, Vows nor protestations vain, Wherewith fools are made so vain, Move her can, save to contemn, Or, perhaps, to laugh at them.

Neither can I doubt or fear Time shall either change or wear 354°

This her virtue, or impair That which makes her soul so fair : In which trust great comforts are, Which the fear of loss would mar.

Nor hath this my rare hope stood So much in her being good, With her love to blessed things, As in her acknowledgings From a higher Power to have them, And her love to Him that gave them. 355° For, although to have a mind

FAIR VIRTUE 131

Naturally to good inclin'd,

And to love it, would assure

Reason that it might endure,

Yet, since man was first unjust,

There's no warrant for such trust.

Virtues that most wonder win,

Would converted be to sin,

If their flourishings began

From no better root than man. 356°

Our best virtues, when they are

Of themselves, we may compare

To the beauty of a flower

That is blasted in an hour,

And which, growing to be fuller,

Turns into some loathed colour.

But those being freely given

And confirm'd in us from heaven,

Have a promise on them past,

And for evermore shall last, 3570

Diamond-like, their lustre clearing

More and more by use and wearing.

But if this rare worth I praise Should by Fate's permission raise Passions in some gentle breast That distemper may his rest, And be author of such treason As might nigh endanger reason, Or enforce his tongue to crave What another man must have, 3$8o

Mark, in such a strait as this, How discreet her dealing is.

132 FAIR VIRTUE

She is nothing of their humours

Who their honour build on rumours,

And had rather private sporting

Than allow of open courting ;

Nor of theirs that would seem holy

By divulging others' folly :

Further is she from their guise,

That delight to tyrannize, 3590

Or make boastings in espying

Others for their favours dying.

She a spirit doth possess So replete with nobleness, That, if she be there beloved Where she ought not to be moved Equally to love again, She doth so well entertain That affection, as there's none Can suppose it ill bestown. 3600

From deluding she is free ; From disdain as far is she ; And so feelingly bears part Of what pains another's heart, That no curse of scorned duty Shall draw vengeance on her beauty. Rather, with so tender fear Of her honour and their care She is touch 'd, that neither shall Wrong unto herself befall, 3610

By the favour she doth show, Nor will she neglect them so As may just occasion give

FAIR VIRTUE 133

Any way to make them grieve.

Hope she will not let them see, Lest they should presuming be, And aspire to that which none Ever must enjoy but one. From despair she keeps them too, Fearing they might hap to do, 3620

Either through love's indiscretions Or much over-stirred passions, What might with their hurt and shame Into question call her name, And a scandal on her bring Who is just in everything. She hath mark'd how others run, And by them hath learn'd to shun Both their fault who, overwise, Err by being too precise ; 3630

And their folly that, o'erkind, Are to all complaints inclin'd. For her wit hath found the way How awhile to hold them play ; And that inconvenience shun Whereinto both seem to run, By allowing them a scope Just bewixt despair and hope. Where confin'd, and reaching neither, They do take a part in either, 3640

Till, long living in suspense, Tired by her indifference, Time at last their passion wears ; Passions wearing, reason clears ;

134 FAIR VIRTUE

Reason gives their judgment light ;

Judgment bringeth all to right.

So their hope appearing vain,

They become themselves again,

And with high applauses, fit

For such virtue with such wit, 3650

They that service only proffer

She may take and they may offer.

Yet this course she never proves, Save with those whose virtuous loves Use the noblest means of gaining Favours worthy the obtaining. And if such should chance to err, Either 'gainst themselves or her, In some oversights, when they Are through passion led astray, 3660

She so well man's frailty knows, With the darts that beauty throws, As she will not adding terror Break the heart for one poor error. Rather, if still good they be, Twenty remedies hath she Gently to apply, where sense Hath invaded reason's fence, And, without or wound or scar, Turns to peace a lawless war. 3670

But to those whose baser fires Breathe out smoke of such desires As may dim with impure steams Any part of beauty's beams, She will deign no milder way

FAIR VIRTUE 135

Those foul burnings to allay, Save with such extreme neglect As shall work her wish'd effect.

And to use so sharp a cure She's not oft constrained, sure, 3680

'Cause upon her forehead still Goodness sits, so fear'd of ill, That the scorn and high disdains, Wherewithal she entertains Those loathed glances, giveth ending To such flamings in the tinding, That their cooled hopes needs must Freeze desires in heat of lust.

'Tis a power that never lies In the fair'st immodest eyes. 3690

Wantons, 'tis not your sweet eyeings, Forced passions, feigned dyings, Gestures, temptings, tears, beguilings, Dancings, singings, kissings, smilings, Nor those painted sweets with which You unwary men bewitch, All united, nor asunder, That can compass such a wonder, Or to win you love prevails Where her moving virtues fails. 3700

Beauties, 'tis not at all those features, Placed in the fairest creatures, Though their best they should discover, That can tempt from her a lover. 'Tis not those soft snowy breasts, Where love rock'd in pleasure rests,

136 FAIR VIRTUE

And, by their continual motions,

Draweth hearts to vain devotions ;

Nor the nectar that we sip

From a honey-dropping lip ; 3710

Nor those eyes whence beauty's lances

Wound the heart with wanton glances ;

Nor those sought delights that lie

In love's hidden treasury,

That can liking gain where she

Will the best beloved be.

For should those who think they may Draw my love from her away, Bring forth all their female graces, Wrap me in their close embraces, 372O

Practise all the art they may, Weep, or sing, or kiss, or pray, And with sighs and looks come woo me, When they soonest may undo me, One poor thought of her would arm me So as Circe could not harm me. Since beside those excellences Wherewith others please the senses, She whom I have prized so Yields delights for reason too, 3730

Who could dote on thing so common As mere outward-handsome woman ? Those half-beauties only win Fools to let affection in ; Vulgar wits, from reason shaken, Are with such impostures taken ; And with all their art in love,

FAIR VIRTUE 137

Wantons can but wantons move.

But when unto those are join'd

Those things which adorn the mind, 3740

None their excellences see

But they straight enthralled be.

Fools and wise men, worst and best,

Subject are to love's arrest.

For, when virtue woos a lover,

She's an unresisted mover,

That will have no kind of nay,

And in love brooks no delay.

She can make the sensual wights To restrain their appetites ; 3750

And, her beauty when they see, Spite of vice, in love to be ; Yea, although themselves be bad, Praise the good they never had. She hath to her service brought Those that her have set at nought, And can fair enough appear To enflame the most severe.

She hath oft allured out

The religiously devout 3760

From their cloisters and their vows, To embrace what she allows, And to such contentments come, As blind zeal had barr'd them from, While, her laws misunderstood, They did ill for love of good.

Where I find true worth to be Sweetest are their lips to me ;

138 FAIR VIRTUE

And embraces tempt me to

More than outward beauties do, 3770

That my firm belief is this :

If ever I do amiss,

Seeming good the bait will lay

That to ill shall me betray,

Since, where shows of goodness are,

I am oft embolden'd there

Freedoms to permit and use

Which I elsewhere do refuse,

For because I think they mean

To allow no deed unclean. 37&>

Yet where two love virtue shall Both at once, they seldom fall. For when one hath thoughts of ill, T'other helps exile them still.

My fair virtue's power is this. And that power the beauty is, Which doth make her here exprest Equally both fair and blest.

This was that contenting grace Which affection made me place 3790

With so dear respect that never Can it fail, but last for ever.

This a servant made me sworn, Who beforetime held in scorn To yield vassalage or duty, Though unto the queen of beauty. Yet that I her servant am, It shall more be to my fame Than to own these woods and downs,

FAIR VIRTUE 139

Or be lord of fifty towns. 3800

And my mistress to be deem'd,

Shall more honour be esteem'd

Than those titles to acquire

Which most women most desire.

Yea, when you a woman shall

Countess or a duchess call,

That respect it shall not move,

Neither gain her half such love

As to say, Lo, this is she

That supposed is to be 3810

Mistress to Philarete,

And that lovely nymph which he

In a pastoral poem famed,

And Fair Virtue there hath named.

Yea, some ladies, ten to one,

If not many, now unknown,

Will be very well-a-paid

When by chance she hears it said

She that fair one is whom I

Here have praised concealedly. 3820

And though now this age's pride May so brave a hope deride, Yet when all their glories pass As the thing that never was, And on monuments appear That they e'er had breathing here Who envy it, she shall thrive In her fame, and honour'd live Whilst Great Britain's shepherds sing English in their sonneting. 3830

140 FAIR VIRTUE

And whoe'er in future days Shall bestow the utmost praise On his love that any man Attribute to creature can, 'Twill be this, that he hath dared His and mine to have compared.

Oh ! what stars did shine on me When her eyes I first did see ! And how good was their aspect When we first did both affect ! 3840

For I never since to changing Was inclined, or thought of ranging.

Me so oft my fancy drew Here and there, that I ne'er knew Where to place desire before So that range it might no more, But as he that passeth by, Where in all her jollity Flora's riches in a row

Doth in seemly order grow, 3850

And a thousand flowers stand Bending as to kiss his hand, Out of which delightful store One he may take, and no more, Long he pausing, doubteth whether Of those fair ones he should gather :

First the primrose courts his eyes ; Then the cowslip he espies ; Next the pansy seems to woo him ; Then carnations bow unto him, 3860

Which whilst that enamour'd swain

FAIR VIRTUE 141

From the stalk intends to strain,

As half fearing to be seen,

Prettily her leaves between

Peeps the violet, pale to see

That her virtues slighted be,

Which so much his liking wins,

That to seize her he begins ;

Yet, before he stoop'd so low,

He his wanton eye did throw 3^7°

On a stern that grew more high,

And the rose did there espy,

Who, beside her precious scent,

To procure his eyes content,

Did display her goodly breast ;

Where he found at full exprest

All the good that nature showers

On a thousand other flowers ;

Wherewith he, affected, takes it,

His beloved flower he makes it, 3880

And, without desire of more,

Walks through all he saw before :

So I wandering but erewhile Through the garden of this isle, Saw rich beauties, I confess, And in number numberless ; Yea, so diflering-lovely too, That I had a world to do Ere I could set up my rest Where to choose, and choose the best. 3890

One I saw whose hair excell'd, On another's brow there dwell'd

142 FAIR VIRTUE

Such a majesty, it seem'd She was best to be esteem'd.

This had with her speeches won me, That with silence had undone me. On her lips the Graces hung, T'other charm'd me with her tongue. In her eyes a third did bear That which did anew ensnare. 390O

Then a fourth did fairer show, Yet wherein I did not know ; Only this perceived I, Somewhat pleas'd my fantasy. Now the wealth I most esteem'd ; Honour then I better deem'd. Next, the love of beauty seiz'd me, And then virtue better pleas'd me. Juno's love I nought esteem'd, Whilst a Venus fairer seem'd. 3910

Nay, both could not me suffice ; Whilst a Pallas was more wise : Though I found enough in one To content if still alone.

Amaryllis I did woo ; And I courted Phyllis too. Daphne for her love I chose ; Chloris for that damask rose In her cheek I held as dear ; Yea, a thousand lik'd well near, 3920

And, in love with altogether, Feared the enjoying either, 'Cause, to be of one possest,

FAIR VIRTUE 143

Barred the hope of all the rest.

Thus I fondly far'd, till Fate— Which, I must confess, in that Did a greater favour to me Than the world can malice do me — Show'd to me that matchless flower, Subject for this song of our. 393°

Whose perfection having eyed, Reason instantly espied That desire, which rang'd abroad, There would find a period. And no marvel if it might ; For it there hath all delight, And in her hath Nature placed What each several fair one graced.

Nor am I alone delighted With those graces all united 3940

Which the sense's eye doth find Scattered throughout womankind, But my reason finds perfections To inflame my soul's affections. Yea, such virtues she possesseth, As with firmest pleasures blesseth, And keeps sound that beauty's state Which would else grow ruinate.

In this flower are sweets such store I shall never wish for more, 395°

Nor be tempted out to stray For the fairest buds in May.

Let who list for me advance The admired flowers of France ;

144 FAIR VIRTUE

Let who will praise and behold

The reserved marigold ;

Let the sweet-breath'd violet now

Unto whom she pleaseth bow,

And the fairest lily spread

Where she will her golden head ; 3960

I have such a flower to wear,

That for those I do not care.

Never shall my fancy range, Nor once think again of change ; Never will I, never more, Grieve or sigh as heretofore, Nor within the lodgings lie Of despair or jealousy.

Let the young and happy swains Playing on the Britain plains 3970

Court unblam'd their shepherdesses, And with their gold-curled tresses Toy uncensur'd, until I Grutch at their prosperity.

Let all times, both present, past, And the age that shall be last, Vaunt the beauties they bring forth ; I have found in one such worth That, content, I neither care What the best before me were, 3980

Nor desire to live and see Who shall fair hereafter be ; For I know the hand of Nature Will not make a fairer creature ; Which, because succeeding days

FAIR VIRTUE 145

Shall confess, and add their praise

In approving what my tongue,

Ere they had their being, sung ;

Once again come lend an ear,

And a rapture you shall hear, 399O

Though I taste no Thespian spring,

Will amaze you whilst I sing.

I do feel new strains inspiring,

And to such brave heights aspiring,

That my Muse will touch a key

Higher than you heard to-day.

I have beauties to unfold That deserve a pen of gold, Sweets that never dream'd of were, Things unknown, and such as ear 4000

Never heard a measure sound Since the sun first ran his round.

When Apelles limn'd to life Loathed Vulcan's lovely wife, With such beauties he did trim Each sweet feature and each limb, And so curiously did place Every well-becoming grace, That 'twas said, ere he could draw Such a piece, he naked saw 4010

Many women in their prime, And the fairest of that time ; From all which he parts did take, Which aright disposed make Perfect beauty. So, when you Know what I have yet to show,' VOL. II. 10

146 FAIR VIRTUE

It will seem to pass so far

Those things which expressed are

That you will suppose I've been

Privileged, where I have seen 4020

All the good that's spread in parts

Through a thousand women's hearts,

With their fair'st conditions, lie

Bare without hypocrisy,

And that I have took from thence

Each dispersed excellence

To express her who hath gained

More than ever one obtained.

And yet soft ; I fear in vain I have boasted such a strain. 4030

Apprehensions ever are Greater than expression far ; And my striving to disclose What I know, hath made me lose My invention's better part, And my hopes exceed my art.

Speak I can ; yet think I more ; Words compar'd with thoughts are poor. And I find, had I begun

Such a strain, it would be done 4040

When we number all the sands Wash'd o'er perjured Goodwin's lands. For of things I should indite, Which, I know, are infinite. I do yield my thoughts did climb Far above the power of rhyme ; And no wonder it is so,

FAIR VIRTUE 147

Since there is no art can show

Red in roses, white in snow,

Nor express how they do grow. 4050

Yea, since bird, beast, stone, and tree,

That inferior creatures be,

Beauties have which we confess

Lines unable to express,

They more hardly can enrol

Those that do adorn a soul.

But suppose my measures could

Reach the height I thought they would,

Now relate I would not tho'

What did swell within me so. 4060

For if I should all descry,

You would know as much as I,

And those clowns the Muses hate

Would of things above them prate,

Or with their profaning eyes,

Come to view those mysteries

Whereof, since they disesteem'd them,

Heaven hath unworthy deem'd them.

And beside, it seems to me That your ears nigh tired be. 4070

I perceive the fire that charmeth And inspireth me scarce warmeth Your chill hearts ; nay, sure, were I Melted into poesy, I should not a measure hit, Though Apollo prompted it, Which should able be to leave That in you which I conceive.

148 FAIR VIRTUE

You are cold ; and here I may Waste my vital heat away 4080

Ere you will be moved so much As to feel one perfect touch Of those sweets which, yet conceal'd, Swell my breast to be reveal'd.

Now my words I therefore cease, That my mounting thoughts in peace May alone those pleasures share Whereof lines unworthy are. And so you an end do see Of my song, though long it be. 4090

No sooner had the shepherd Philaret

To this description his last period set,

But instantly, descending from a wood,

Which on a rising ground adjoining stood,

A troop of satyrs, to the view of all,

Came dancing of a new-devised brawl.

The measures they did pace by him were taught

them,

Who to so rare a gentleness had brought them, That he had learned their rudeness an observing Of such respect unto the well-deserving 4100

As they became to no men else a terror, But such as did persist in wilful error, And they the ladies made no whit afeard, Though since that time they some great men have

scar'd. Their dance the Whipping of Abuse they named ;

FAIR VIRTUE 149

And though the shepherd, since that, hath been

blamed,

Yet now 'tis daily seen in every town, And there's no country dance that's better known, Nor that hath gain'd a greater commendation Mongst those that love an honest recreation. 4110

This scene presented, from a grove was heard A set of viols ; and there was prepared A country banquet, which this shepherd made To entertain the ladies in the shade. And 'tis suppos'd his song prolonged was Of purpose, that it might be brought to pass ; So well it was perform 'd, that each one deem'd The banquet might the city have beseem'd. Yet better was their welcome than their fare, Which they perceiv'd, and the merrier were. 4120

One beauty, tho', there sat amongst the rest, That look'd as sad as if her heart opprest With love had been. Whom Philaret beholding Sit so demurely, and her arms enfolding, " Lady," quoth he, " am I, or this poor cheer, The cause that you so melancholy are ? For, if the object of your thoughts be higher, It fits nor me to know them, nor inquire. But if from me it cometh that offends, I seek the cause, that I may make amends." 4130

" Kind swain," said she, "it is nor so, nor so. No fault in you, nor in your cheer I know. Nor do I think there is a thought in me That can too worthy of your knowledge be. Nor have I, many a day, more pleasure had

150 FAIR VIRTUE

Than here I find, though I have seemed sad.

" My heart is sometimes heavy when I smile ; And when I grieve I often sing the while. Nor is it sadness that doth me possess, But rather musing with much seriousness 4H°

Upon that multitude of sighs and tears, With those innumerable doubts and fears Through which you passed ere you could acquire A settled hope of gaining your desire. For you dared love a nymph so great and fair As might have brought a prince unto despair ; And sure the excellency of your passions Did then produce as excellent expressions.

" If, therefore, me the suit may well become, And if to you it be not wearisome, 4rSo

In name of all these ladies I entreat That one of those sad strains you would repeat Which you compos'd when greatest discontent Unsought-for help to your invention lent."

" Fair nymph," said Philaret, " I will do so. For, though your shepherd doth no courtship know, He hath humanity, and what's in me To do you service may commanded be."

So, taking down a lute that near him hung, 4159 He gave 't his boy, who played, whilst this he sung.

FAIR VIRTUE 151

SONNET I.

Ah me!

Am I the swain,

That late from sorrow free,

Did all the cares on earth disdain ?

And still untouch'd, as at some safer games,

Play'd with the burning coals of lovejand beauty's flames ?

Was 't I could dive and sound each passion's secret depth at will,

And from those huge o'erwhelmings rise by help of reason still f

And am I now, oh heavens ! for trying this in vain

So sunk that I shall never rise again?

Then let despair set sorrow's string

For strains that dolefull'st be,

And I will sing,

Ah me.

But why, O fatal Time ! Dost thou constrain that I Should perish in my youth's sweet prime ? I but awhile ago, you cruel powers, In spite of fortune, cropp'd contentment's sweetest flowers. And yet, unscorned, serve a gentle nymph, the fairest she That ever was beloved of man, or eyes did ever s Yea, one whose tender heart would rue for my distress ; Yet I, poor I, must perish natheless. And, which much more augments my care, Unmoaned I must die, And no man e'er Know why.

152 FAIR VIRTUE

Thy leave,

My dying song,

Yet take, ere grief bereave

The breath which I enjoy too long.

Tell thou that fair one this : my soul prefers

Her love above my life, and that I died hers :

And let him be for evermore to her remembrance dear,

Who loved the very thought of her whilst he remained here.

And now farewell, thou place of my unhappy birth,

Where once I breathed the sweetest air on earth.

Since me my wonted joys forsake,

And all my trust deceive,

Of all I take

My leave.

Farewell,

Sweet groves, to you ; You hills, that highest dwell ; And all you humble vales, adieu. You wanton brooks and solitary rocks, My dear companions all, and you, my tender flocks ; Farewell,my pipe,and all those pleasing songs whose moving strains Delighted once the fairest nymphs that dance upon the plains; You discontents, whose deep and over-deadly smart Have, without pity, broke the truest heart, Sighs, tears, and every sad annoy That erst did with me dwell, And all others joy, Farewell.

FAIR VIRTUE 153

Adieu,

Fair Shepherdesses ;

Let garlands of sad yew

Adorn your dainty golden tresses.

I that loved you, and often with my quill

Made music that delighted fountain, grove, and hill ;

I whom you loved so, and with a sweet and chaste embrace,

Yea, with a thousand rarer favours, would vouchsafe to grace,

I now must leave you all alone, of love to plain,

And never pipe nor never sing again.

I must for evermore be gone ;

And therefore bid I you,

And every one,

Adieu.

I die!

For oh, I feel

Death's horrors drawing nigh ;

And all this frame of nature reel.

My hopeless heart, despairing of relief.

Sinks underneath the heavy weight of saddest grief,

Which hath so ruthless torn, so rack'd, so tortur'd every vein,

All comfort comes too late to have it ever cur'd agaii

My swimming head begins to dance death's giddy round ;

A shuddering dullness doth each sense confound :

Benumb'd is my cold-sweating brow ;

A dimness shuts my eye ;

And now, oh, now

I die.

i54 FAIR VIRTUE

So movingly these lines he did express,

And to a tune so full of heaviness,

As if, indeed, his purpose had been past

To live no longer than the song did last,

Which in the nymphs such tender passion bred,

That some of them did tears of pity shed. 425O

This she perceiving, who first craved the song, " Shepherd," she said, " although it be no wrong Nor grief to you those passions to recall, Which heretofore you have been pain'd withal, But comforts rather, since they now are over, And you, it seemeth, an enjoying lover, Yet some young nymphs among us I do see Who so much moved with your passions be, That if my aim I taken have aright, Their thoughts will hardly let them sleep to-night. 4260

' ' I dare not, therefore, beg of you again To sing another of the selfsame strain, For fear it breed within them more unrest Than women's weaknesses can well digest. Yet in your measures such content you have, That one song more I will presume to crave. And if your memory preserves of those Which you of your affections did compose Before you saw this mistress, let us hear What kind of passions then within you were." 4270

To which request he instantly obey'd, And this ensuing song both sung and play'd.

FAIR VIRTUE 155

SONNET 2.

You gentle nymphs that on these meadows play, And oft relate the loves of shepherds young, Come, sit you down ; for, if you please to stay, Now may you hear an uncouth passion sung. A lad there is, and I am that poor groom, That['s] fall'n in love, and cannot tell with whom.

Oh, do not smile at sorrow as a jest ;

With others' cares good natures moved be ; 4280

And I should weep if you had my unrest ;

Then at my grief how can you merry be ?

Ah, where is tender pity now become ?

I am in love, and cannot tell with whom.

I that have oft the rarest features view'd, And beauty in her best perfection seen ; I that have laugh'd at them that love pursued, And ever free from such affections been,

Lo, now at last so cruel is my doom,

I am in love, and cannot tell with whom. 4290

My heart is full nigh bursting with desire,

Yet cannot find from whence these longings flow ;

My breast doth burn, but she that lights the fire

I never saw, nor can I come to know.

So great a bliss my fortune keeps me from, That though I dearly love, I know not whom.

156 FAIR VIRTUE

Ere I had twice four springs renewed seen,

The force of beauty I began to prove ;

And ere I nine years old had fully been,

It taught me how to frame a song of love, 43°°

And little thought I, this day should have come, Before that I to love had found out whom.

For on my chin the mossy down you see, And in my veins well-heated blood doth glow ; Of summers I have seen twice three times three, And fast my youthful time away doth go, That much I fear I aged shall become, And still complain, I love I know not whom.

Oh ! why had I a heart bestow'd on me

To cherish dear affections so inclin'd ? 4310

Since I am so unhappy born to be

No object for so true a love to find.

When I am dead it will be missed of some, Yet, now I live, I love I know not whom.

I to a thousand beauteous nymphs am known ;

A hundred ladies' favours do I wear ;

I with as many half in love am grown ;

Yet none of them, I find, can be my dear.

Methinks I have a mistress yet to come, 4319

Which makes me sing, I love I know not whom.

FAIR VIRTUE 157

There lives no swain doth stronger passion prove For her whom most he covets to possess, Than doth my heart, that being full of love, Knows not to whom it may the same profess. For he that is despis'd hath sorrow some, But he hath more that loves and knows not whom.

Knew I my love as many others do, To some one object might my thoughts be bent, So they divided should not wandering go Until the soul's united force be spent. 433°

As his that seeks and never finds a home, Such is my rest, that love and know not whom.

Those whom the frowns of jealous friends divide May live to meet and descant on their woe ; And he hath gain'd a lady for his bride That durst not woo her maid awhile ago. But oh ! what end unto my hopes can come That am in love, and cannot tell with whom ?

Poor Colin grieves that he was late disdain'd, And Chloris doth for Willy's absence pine ; 4340 Sad Thirsis weeps, for his sick Phoebe pain'd ; But all their sorrows cannot equal mine. A greater care, alas ! on me is come : I am in love, and cannot tell with whom.

158 FAIR VIRTUE

Narcissus-like did I affect my shade,

Some shadow yet I had to dote upon ;

Or did I love some image of the dead,

Whose substance had not breathed long agone,

I might despair, and so an end would come ;

But, oh, I love ! and cannot tell you whom. 4350

Once in a dream methought my love T view'd, But never waking could her face behold ; And doubtless that resemblance was but shew'd That more my tired heart torment it should.

For, since that time, more griev'd I am become, And more in love ; I cannot tell with whom.

When on my bed at night to rest I lie,

My watchful eyes with tears bedew my cheek ;

And then, oh, would it once were day, I cry ;

Yet when it comes I am as far to seek. 4360

For who can tell, though all the earth he roam, Or when, or where, to find he knows not whom?

Oh ! if she be among the beauteous trains Of all you nymphs that haunt the silver rills ; Or if you know her, ladies of the plains, Or you that have your bowers on the hills, Tell, if you can, who will my love become, Or I shall die, and never know for whom.

FAIR VIRTUE 159

THE ladies smiled oft when this they heard,

Because the passion strange to them appear'd. 4370

And stranger was it, since, by his expression,

As well as by his own unfeign'd confession,

It seemed true. But, having sung it out,

And seeing scarcely manners they it thought

To urge him farther, thus to them he spake :

11 Fair ladies, forasmuch as doubt you make

To re-command me, of mine own accord

Another strain I freely will afford.

" It shall not be of love, nor any song Which to the praise of beauty doth belong, 4380

But that hereafter, when you hence are gone, Your shepherd may be sometime thought upon. To show you also what content the field And lovely grove to honest minds may yield. That you my humble fate may not despise When you return unto your braveries, And not suppose that in these homely bowers I hug my fortune 'cause I know not yours. Such lines I'll sing as were composed by me When some proud courtiers, where I hapt to be, 4390 Did, like themselves, of their own glories prate, As in contempt of my more happy state. And these they be."

160 FAIR VIRTUE

SONNET.

LORDLY gallants, tell me this, Though my safe content you weigh not, In your greatness what one bliss Have you gain'd that I enjoy not ?

You have honours, you have wealth,

I have peace, and I have health ;

All the day I merry make,

And at night no care I take. 4400

Bound to none my fortunes be ;

This or that man's fall I fear not ;

Him I love that loveth me ;

For the rest a pin I care not. You are sad when others chaff, And grow merry as they laugh ; I, that hate it, and am free, Laugh and weep as pleaseth me.

You may boast of favours shown

Where your service is applied, 44 10

But my pleasures are mine own,

And to no man's humours tied.

You oft flatter, soothe, and feign ;

I such baseness do disdain,

And to none be slave I would,

Though my fetters might be gold.

FAIR VIRTUE 161

By great titles some believe

Highest honours are attained ;

And yet kings have power to give

To their fools what these have gained. 4420

Where they favour, there they may

All their names of honour lay ;

But I look not rais'd to be

Till mine own wing carry me.

Seek to raise your titles higher, They are toys not worth my sorrow : Those that we to-day admire Prove the age's scorn to-morrow.

Take your honours ; let me find

Virtue in a free-born mind ; 4430

This the greatest kings that be

Cannot give nor take from me.

Though I vainly do not vaunt Large demesnes to feed my pleasure, I have favours where you want That would buy respect with treasure.

You have lands lie here and there,

But my wealth is everywhere,

And this addeth to my store,

Fortune cannot make me poor. 4440

VOL. II.

162 FAIR VIRTUE

Say you purchase with your pelf Some respect where you importune, Those may love me for myself That regard you for your fortune. Rich, or born of high degree, Fools as well as you may be : But that peace in which I live No descent nor wealth can give.

If you boast that you may gain

The respect of high-born beauties, 4450

Know I never wooed in vain,

Nor preferred scorned duties.

She I love hath all delight,

Rosy-red with lily-white,

And, whoe'er your mistress be,

Flesh and blood as good as she.

Note of me was never took

For my woman-like perfections,

But so like a man I look,

It hath gain'd me best affections. 4460

For my love as many showers

Have been wept as have for yours ;

And yet none doth me condemn

For abuse or scorning them.

FAIR VIRTUE 163

Though of dainties you have store To delight a choicer palate, Yet your taste is pleas'd no more Than is mine in one poor sal let.

You to please your senses feed,

But I eat good blood to breed, 447<>

And am most delighted than

When I spend it like a man.

Though you lord it over me, You in vain thereof have braved, For those lusts my servants be Whereunto your minds are slaved.

To yourselves you wise appear,

But alas, deceiv'd you are.

You do foolish me esteem

And are that which I do seem. 4480

When your faults I open lay

You are moved and mad with vexing ;

But you ne'er could do or say

Ought to drive me to perplexing. Therefore, my despised power Greater is by far than your ; And, whate'er you think of me, In your minds you poorer be.

164 FAIR VIRTUE

You are pleased more or less,

As men well or ill report you ; 449O

And show discontentedness

When the times forbear to court you.

That in which my pleasures be

No man can divide from me ;

And my care it adds not to

Whatso others say or do.

Be not proud because you view

You by thousands are attended,

For alas, it is not you,

But your fortune that's befriended. 4500

Where I show of love have got

Such a danger fear I not,

Since they nought can seek of me,

But for love belov'd to be.

When your hearts have everything You are pleasantly disposed, But I can both laugh and sing Though my foes have me enclosed.

Yea, when dangers me do hem,

I delight in scorning them, 45 10

More than you in your renown,

Or a king can in his crown.

FAIR VIRTUE 165

You do bravely domineer Whilst the sun upon you shineth, Yet if any storm appear Basely then your mind declineth.

But or shine, or rain, or blow,

I my resolutions know ;

Living, dying, thrall, or free,

At one height my mind shall be. 4520

When in thraldom I have lain

Me not worth your thought you prized.

But your malice was in vain,

For your favours I despised. And, howe'er you value me, I with praise shall thought on be, When the world esteems you not, And your names shall be forgot.

In these thoughts my riches are,

Now, though poor or mean you deem 016,4530

I am pleased, and do not care

How the times or you esteem me.

For those toys that make you gay

Are but play-games for a day.

And when Nature craves her due

I as brave shall be as you.

166 FAIR VIRTUE

HERE Philaret did give his song an ending,

To which the nymphs so seriously attending

About him sat, as if they had supposed

He still had somewhat more to be disclosed : 4540

And well they knew not whether did belong

Most praise unto the shepherd or his song ;

For though, they must confess, they often hear

Those lays which much more deeply learned are,

Yet, when they well considered of the place,

With how unlikely in their thought it was

To give them hope of hearing such a strain,

Or that so young and so obscure a swain

Should such a matchless beauty's favour get,

And know her worth so well to sing of it, 455O

They wondered at it, and some thus surmised

That he a greater man was, so disguised,

Or else that she whom he so much had praised

Some goddess was, that those his measures raised

Of purpose to that rare-attained height,

In envy's and presuming art's despite.

But whilst they musing with themselves bethought Which way out of this shepherd to have wrought, What nymph this fair one was, and where she lived, Lo, at that very instant there arrived 4560

Three men that by their habits courtiers seemed ; For, though obscure, by some he is esteemed Among the greatest, who do not contemn In his retired walks to visit him ; And there they taste those pleasures of the mind Which they can nor in court nor city find.

FAIR VIRTUE 167

Some news or message these new guests had brought

him,

And to make haste away, it seems, besought him, For instantly he rose, and that his nurture Might not be taxed by a rude departure, 457O

Himself excusing, he those nymphs did pray His noble friends might bring them on their way : Who, as it seems, he said, were therefore come That they might wait upon them to their home. So with their favour he departed thence, And, as they thought, to meet her excellence Of whom he sung. Yet many deem that this But an idea of a mistress is, Because to none he yet had deign' d the telling Her proper name, nor shown her place of dwell-

ing. 45«o

When he was gone a lady from among Those nymphs took up his lute and sung this song.

THE NYMPH'S SONG.

GENTLE swain, good speed befall thee, And in love still prosper thou, Future times shall happy call thee, Though thou lie neglected now. Virtue's lovers shall commend thee, And perpetual fame attend thee.

1 68 FAIR VIRTUE

Happy are these woody mountains In whose shadows thou dost hide, 459O

And as happy are those fountains By whose murmurs thou dost bide ; For contents are here excelling More than in a prince's dwelling.

These thy flocks do clothing bring thee,

And thy food out of the fields ;

Pretty songs the birds do sing thee ;

Sweet perfumes the meadow yields ; And, what more is worth the seeing, Heaven and earth thy prospect being ? 4600

None comes hither who denies thee Thy contentments for despite, Neither any that envies thee That wherein thou dost delight ;

But all happy things are meant thee, And whatever may content thee.

Thy affection reason measures,

And distempers none it feeds ;

Still so harmless are thy pleasures,

That no other's grief it breeds ; 4610

And if night beget thee sorrow,

Seldom stays it till the morrow.

FAIR VIRTUE 169

Why do foolish men so vainly Seek contentment in their store, Since they may perceive so plainly Thou art rich in being poor ?

And that they are vexed about it, Whilst thou merry art without it.

Why are idle brains devising

How high titles may be gain'd, 4620

Since, by those poor toys despising,

Thou hast higher things obtain'd ?

For the man who scorns to crave them Greater is than they that have them.

If all men could taste that sweetness

Thou dost in thy meanness know,

Kings would be to seek where greatness

And their honours to bestow ;

For it such content would breed them

As they would not think they need them. 4630

And if those who so aspiring To the court-preferments be, Knew how worthy the desiring Those things are enjoy'd by thee, Wealth and titles would hereafter Subjects be for scorn and laughter.

170 FAIR VIRTUE

He that courtly styles affected Should a May-lord's honour have : He that heaps of wealth collected Should be counted as a slave : 4640

And the man with few'st things cumbered With the noblest should be numbered.

Thou their folly hast discerned

That neglect thy mind and thee ;

And to slight them thou hast learned,

Of what title e'er they be,

That no more with thee obtaineth Than with them thy meanness gaineth.

All their riches, honours, pleasures,

Poor unworthy trifles seem, 4650

If compared with thy treasures,

And do merit no esteem.

For they true contents provide thee, And from them can none divide thee.

Whether thralled or exiled ;

Whether poor or rich thou be ;

Whether praised or reviled,

Not a rush it is to thee.

This nor that thy rest doth win thee,

But the mind which is within thee. 4660

FAIR VIRTUE 171

Then, oh why so madly dote we

On those things that us o'er-load ?

Why no more their vainness note we,

But still make of them a god ? For, alas ! they still deceive us, And in greatest need they leave us.

Therefore have the Fates provided

Well, thou happy swain, for thee,

That may'st here so far divided

From the world's distractions be. 4670

Thee distemper let them never,

But in peace continue ever.

In these lonely groves enjoy thou That contentment here begun, And thy hours so pleas'd employ thou Till the latest glass be run. From a fortune so assured By no temptings be allured.

Much good do Jt them with their glories, Who in courts of princes dwell. 4680

We have read in antique stories How some rose, and how they fell.

And 'tis worthy well the heeding ;

There's like end where's like proceeding

172 FAIR VIRTUE

Be thou still in thy affection To thy noble mistress true, Let her never-match'd perfection Be the same unto thy view,

And let never other beauty

Make thee fail in love or duty. 4690

For if thou shalt not estranged

From thy course professed be,

But remain for aye unchanged,

Nothing shall have power on thee. Those that slight thee now shall love thee, And, in spite of spite, approve thee.

So those virtues, now neglected,

To be more esteem'd will come ;

Yea, those toys so much affected

Many shall be wooed from, 4700

And the golden age deplored Shall by some be thought restored.

THUS sang the nymph, so rarely well inspired, That all the hearers her brave strains admired. And as I heard by some that there attended, When this her song was finished, all was ended.

FAIR VIRTUE 173

A Postscript

IF any carp for that my younger times

Brought forth such idle fruit as these slight rhymes

It is no matter, so they do not swear

That they so ill-employed never were.

Whilst their desires perhaps t hey looselier spent,

I gave my heats of youth this better vent,

And oft by writing thus the blood have tamed,

Which some with reading wanton lays enflamed.

Nor care I, though their censure some have pass'd Because my songs exceed the fiddler's last. 10

For do they think that I will make my measures The longer or the shorter for their pleasures ? Or maim or curtolize my free invention Because fools weary are of their attention ? No ; let them know, who do their length contemn, I make to please myself, and not for them.

174 MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

A Miscellany of Epigrams,

Sonnets, Epitaphs, and such other

Verses as were found written with the

Poem aforegoing.

I. OF THE INVENTION OF THE NINE MUSES.

THE acts of ages past doth Clio write,

The tragedy's Melpomene's delight,

Thalia is with comedies contented,

Euterpe first the shepherd's pipe invented,

Terpsichore doth song and lute apply,

Dancing Erato found geometry,

Calliope on loving verses dwells,

The secrets of the stars Urania tells,

Polymnia with choice words the speech doth trim,

And great Apollo shares with all of them. 10

Those thrice three feminines we Muses call ;

But that one masculine is worth them all.

2. OF THE LABOURS OF HERCULES.

FIRST he the strong Nemean lion slew ; The many-headed Hydra next o'erthrew. The Erymanthian boar he thirdly foils ; Then of his golden horns the stag he spoils.

MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS 175

The foul Stymphalian birds he fifthly frayed ;

Next he the queen of Amazons o'er-swayed.

Then cleansed Augeas' stalls, with filth so full ;

And eighthly tamed the untamed bull.

He slew proud Diomedes with his horses ;

From triple Geryon his rich herd he forces. 10

He slew the dragon for the fruit of gold,

And made black Cerberus the day behold.

These were his twelve stout labours. And they say

With fifty virgins in one night he lay.

If true it be, 'tis thought he labour'd more

In that one act than in the twelve before.

3. BEING LEFT BY A GENTLEMAN IN HIS DINING- ROOM, WHERE WAS NOTHING BUT A MAP OF ENGLAND TO ENTERTAIN HIM, HB THUS TURNED IT INTO VERSE.

FAIR England in the bosom of the seas, Amid her two-and-fifty provinces, Sits like a glorious empress, whose rich throne Great nymphs of honour come to wait upon.

First in the height of bravery appears Kent, East-, and South-, and Middle-Saxon shires ; Next, Surrey, Berkshire, and Southampton get, With Dorset, Wilton, and rich Somerset. Then Devon, with the Cornish promontory ; Gloucester and Worcester, fair Sabrina's glory. 10 Then Salop, Suffolk, Norfolk large and fair, Oxford and Cambridge, that thrice-learned pair.

176 MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

Then Lincoln, Derby, Yorkshire, Nottingham, Northampton, Warwick, Stafford, Buckingham. Chester and Lancaster, with herds well stor'd, Huntingdon, Hertford, Rutland, Hereford. Then princely Durham, Bedford, Leicester, and Northumber-, Cumber-, and cold Westmoreland.

Brave English shires, with whom lov'd equally Welsh Monmouth, Radnor, and Montgomery, 20 Add all the glory to her train they can ; So doth Glamorgan, Brecknock, Cardigan, Carnarvon, Denbigh, Merionethshire, With Anglesea, which o'er the sea doth rear Her lofty head. And with the first, though last, Flint, Pembroke, and Carmarthen might be plac'd. For all of these unto their power maintain Their mistress England with a royal train. Yea, for supporters at each hand hath she The Wight and Man, that two brave islands be. 30

From these I to the Scottish nymphs had journey'd But that my friend was back again returned, Who having kindly brought me to his home, Alone did leave me in his dining-room, Where I was fain, and glad I had the hap, To beg an entertainment of his map.

MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS 177

4. AN EPITAPH UPON THE RIGHT VIRTUOUS LADY, THE LADY SCOTT.

LET none suppose this relic of the just

Was here wrapt up to perish in the dust ;

No, like best fruits her time she fully stood,

Then being grown in faith, and ripe in good,

With steadfast hope that she another day

Should rise with Christ, with Death here down she lay.

And that each part which her in life had grac'd

Preserv'd might be, and meet again at last,

The poor, the world, the heavens, and the grave,

Her alms, her praise, her soul, her body have. 10

5. AN EPITAPH UPON A WOMAN AND HER CHILD, BURIED TOGETHER IN THE SAME GRAVE.

BENEATH this marble stone doth lie

The subject of Death's tyranny —

A mother, who in this close tomb

Sleeps with the issue of her womb.

Though cruelly inclin'd was he,

And with the fruit shook down the tree,

Yet was his cruelty in vain,

For tree and fruit shall spring again.

No. 4. Ashmolean MS. 38, No. 329 :— 1. 3. ' fruit.' 1. 4. 'ripe and good.'

1 Shall rise.' MS. 38, A ' struck d

VOL. II. 12

No. 5. Ash. MS. 38, No. 330 :— 1. 6. ' struck down.'

1 78 MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

6. A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

So now is come our joyful'st feast ;

Let every man be jolly.

Each room with ivy-leaves is dress'd,

And every post with holly.

Though some churls at our mirth repine, Round your foreheads garlands twine, Drown sorrow in a cup of wine,

And let us all be merry.

Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke, And Christmas blocks are burning ; IO

Their ovens they with baked meats choke, And all their spits are turning.

Without the door let sorrow lie, And if for cold it hap to die, We'll bury 't in a Christmas pie, And evermore be merry.

Now every lad is wondrous trim,

And no man minds his labour ;

Our lasses have provided them

A bag-pipe and a tabor. 20

Young men, and maids, and girls and boys, Give life to one another's joys, And you anon shall by their noise

Perceive that they are merry.

MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS 179

Rank misers now do sparing shun,

Their hall of music soundeth,

And dogs thence with whole shoulders run,

So all things there aboundeth.

The country-folk themselves advance, 29 For crowdy-mutton's come out of France; And Jack shall pipe, and Jill shall dance,

And all the town be merry.

Ned Swash hath fetch'd his bands from pawn,

And all his best apparel;

Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn

With droppings of the barrel ;

And those that hardly all the year Had bread to eat or rags to wear, Will have both clothes and dainty fare,

And all the day be merry. 40

Now poor men to the justices

With capons make their arrants,

And if they hap to fail of these

They plague them with their warrants.

But now they feed them with good cheer, And what they want they take in beer, For Christmas comes but once a year,

And then they shall be merry.

Good farmers in the country nurse The poor, that else were undone. 50

Some landlords spend their money worse, On lust and pride at London.

l8o MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

There the roysters they do play, Drab and dice their land away, Which may be ours another day ; And therefore let's be merry.

The client now his suit forbears,

The prisoner's heart is eased,

The debtor drinks away his cares,

And for the time is pleased. 60

Though others' purses be more fat, Why should we pine or grieve at that ? Hang sorrow, care will kill a cat,

And therefore let's be merry.

Hark how the wags abroad do call

Each other forth to rambling ;

Anon you'll see them in the hall

For nuts and apples scambling.

Hark how the roofs with laughters sound ! Anon they'll think the house goes round, 70 For they the cellar's depth have found,

And there they will be merry.

The wenches with their wassail-bowls

About the streets are singing,

The boys are come to catch the owls,

The wild mare in is bringing.

Our kitchen-boy hath broke his box,

And to the dealing of the ox

Our honest neighbours come by flocks,

And here they will be merry. 80

MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS 181

Now kings and queens poor sheepcotes have,

And mate with everybody ;

The honest now may play the knave,

And wise men play at noddy.

Some youths will now a-mumming go, Some others play at rowland-hoe, And twenty other gameboys moe,

Because they will be merry.

Then wherefore in these merry days

Should we, I pray, be duller ? 90

No ; let us sing some roundelays

To make our mirth the fuller.

And, whilest thus inspir'd we sing, Let all the streets with echoes ring ; Woods, and hills, and everything,

Bear witness we are merry.

7. AN EPITAPH UPON THE PORTER OF A PRISON.

HERE lie the bones of him that was of late

A churlish porter of a prison gate.

Death many an evening at his lodging knock'd,

But could not take him, for the door was lockM ;

Yet at a tavern late one night he found him,

And getting him into the cellar, drown'd him.

On which the world, that still the worst is thinking,

Reports abroad that he was kill'd with drinking ;

No. 7. Ash. MS. 38, No. 331 :— L i. 'lies. L6. 'a cellar.' L8 'Report.'

1 82 MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

Yet let no prisoner, whether thief or debtor, Rejoice, as if his fortune were the better ; 10

Their sorrow's likely to be ne'er the shorter, The warden lives, though death hath took the porter.

8. A SONNET UPON A STOLEN KISS.

Now gentle sleep hath closed up those eyes Which waking kept my boldest thoughts in awe, And free access unto that sweet lip lies, From whence I long the rosy breath to draw ; Methinks no wrong it were if I should steal From those two melting rubies one poor kiss; None sees the theft that would the thief reveal, Nor rob I her of ought which she can miss ; Nay, should I twenty kisses take away, There would be little sign I had done so ; 10

Why then should I this robbery delay? Oh ! she may wake, and therewith angry grow. Well, if she do, I'll back restore that one, And twenty hundred thousand more for loan.

9, AN EPITAPH UPON ABRAM GOODFELLOW, A COMMON ALEHOUSE-HUNTER.

BEWARE thou look not who hereunder lies, Unless thou long to weep away thine eyes. This man, as sorrowful report doth tell us, Was, when he lived, the prince of all Goodfellows. That day he died, it cannot be believed How out of reason all the alewives grieved,

MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS 183

And what abominable lamentation

They made at Black-boy and at Salutation ;

They howl'd and cried, and ever more among

This was the burden of their woeful song : 10

Well, go thy ways, thy like hath never been,

Nor shall thy match again be ever seen ;

For out of doubt now thou art dead and gone,

There's many a tap-house will be quite undone,

And Death by taking thee did them more scathe,

Than yet the alehouse project done them hath.

Lo, such a one but yesterday was he, But now he much is alter'd, you do see. Since he came hither he hath left his riot, Yea, changed both his company and diet, 20

And now so civil lies, that to your thinking He neither for an alehouse cares, nor drinking.

IO. AN EPITAPH UPON A GENTLEWOMAN WHO HAD FORETOLD THE TIME OF HER DEATH.

HER who beneath this stone consuming lies

For many virtues we might memorize.

But, most of all, the praise deserveth she

In making of her words and deeds agree.

For she so truly kept the word she spake,

As that with Death she promise would not break.

" I shall," quoth she, " be dead before the mid

Of such a month." And, as she said, she did.

No. 10. Ask. MS. 38, No. 252.

i84 MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

II. AN EPITAPH ON A CHILD, SON TO SIR W. H. KNIGHT.

HERE lies, within a cabinet of stone,

The dear remainder of a pretty one,

Who did in wit his years so far outpass,

His parents' wonder and their joy he was.

And by his face you might have deemed him

To be on earth some heavenly Cherubim.

Six years with life he labour'd, then deceased,

To keep the sabbath of eternal rest ;

So that which many thousand able men

Are lab' ring for till threescore years and ten 10

This blessed child attained to ere seven,

And now enjoys it with the saints of Heaven.

12. A SONG.

Now, young man, thy days and thy glories appear Like sunshine and blossoms in spring of the year ; Thy vigour of body, thy spirits, thy wit, Are perfect and sound and untroubled yet. Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

Mis-spend not a morning so excellent clear ;

Never for ever was happiness here.

Thy noontide of life hath but little delight,

And sorrows on sorrows will follow at night. 10

No. ii. Ask. MS. 38, No. 231 :— 1. 12. 'in heaven.'

MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS 185

Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

That strength and those beauties that grace thee to day

To-morrow may perish and vanish away.

Thy wealth or thy pleasures, or friends that now be,

May waste or deceive, or be traitors to thee. Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

Thy joints are yet nimble, thy sinews unslack, And marrow unwasted doth strengthen thy back. 20 Thy youth from diseases preserveth the brain, And blood with free passage plumps every vein. Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

But trust me it will not for ever be so ;

Those arms that are mighty shall feebler grow.

And those legs so proudly supporting thee now,

With age or diseases will stagger and bow. Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above. 30

Then all those rare features now graceful in thee

Shall, ploughed with Time's furrows, quite ruined be.

And they who admired and loved thee so much,

Shall loathe, or forget thou hadst ever been such.

Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,

Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

1 86 MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

Those tresses of hair which thy youth do adorn Will look like the meads in a winterly morn. And where red and white intermixed did grow, Dull paleness a deadly complexion will show. 40

Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

That forehead imperious, whereon we now view A smoothness and whiteness enamelled with blue, Will lose that perfection which youth now maintains, And change it for hollowness, wrinkles, and stains. Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

Those ears thou with music didst oft entertain, And charm with so many a delicate strain, 50

May miss of those pleasures wherewith they are fed, And never hear song more when youth is once fled. Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

Those eyes which so many so much did admire, And with strange affections set thousands on fire, Shut up in that darkness which age will constrain, Shall never see mortal, no, never again. Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind then, oh, mind thou thy Maker above. 60

Those lips whereon beauty so fully discloses The colour and sweetness of rubies and roses,

MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS 187

Instead of that hue will ghastliness wear, And none shall believe what perfection was there. Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

Thy teeth that stood firmly, like pearls in a row,

Shall rotten, and scatter'd disorderly grow ;

The mouth whose proportion earth's wonder was thought,

Shall, robb'd of that sweetness, be prized at nought. 70 Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

That gait and those gestures that win thee such grace

Will turn to a feeble and staggering pace.

And thou that o'er mountains ran'st nimbly to-day,

Shall stumble at every rub in the way. Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

By these imperfections old age will prevail, Thy marrow, thy sinews, and spirits will faiL 80

And nothing is left thee, when those are once spent, To give or thyself or another content. Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

Those fancies that lull thee with dreams of delight Will trouble thy quiet the comfortless night.

i88 MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

And thou that now sleepest thy troubles away, Shalt hear how each cock'rel gives warning of day. Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above. 90

Then thou that art yet unto thousands so dear,

Of all shalt despis'd or neglected appear j

Which, when thou perceiv'st, though now pleasant it

be,

Thy life will be grievous and loathsome to thee. Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

That lust which thy youth can so hardly forego Will leave thee, and leave thee repentance and woe. And then in thy folly no joy thou canst have, Nor hope other rest than a comfortless grave. loo Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

For next shall thy breath be quite taken away, Thy flesh turn'd to dust, and that dust turn'd to clay ; And those thou hast loved, and share of thy store, Shall leave thee, forget thee, and mind thee no more. Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

And yet if in time thou remember not this, The slenderest part of thy sorrow it is : 1 10

Thy soul to a torture more fearful shall wend, Hath ever and ever, and never an end.

Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love, Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.

MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS 189

13. A DREAM.

WHEN bright Phoebus at his rest Was reposed in the west, And the cheerful daylight gone, Drew unwelcome darkness on,

Night her blackness wrapp'd about me,

And within 'twas as without me.

Therefore on my tumbled bed

Down I laid my troubled head,

Where mine eyes, inured to care,

Seldom used to slumb'ring were. 10

Yet, o'ertired of late with weeping, Then by chance they fdl a-sleeping.

But such visions me diseased, As in vain that sleep I seized : For I sleeping fancies had, Which yet waking make me sad.

Some can sleep away their sorrow,

But mine doubles every morrow.

Walking to a pleasant grove,

Where I used to think of love, 20

I methought a place did view

Wherein Flora's riches grew.

Primrose, hyacinth, and lilies,

Cowslips, violets, daffodillies.

I9o MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

There a fountain close beside I a matchless beauty spied. So she lay as if she slept, But much grief her waking kept.

And she had no softer pillow

Than the hard root of a willow. 30

Down her cheeks the tears did flow, Which a grieved heart did show, Her fair eyes the earth beholding, And her arms themselves enfolding ; She her passion to betoken, Sigh'd as if her heart were broken.

So much grief methought she shew'd,

That my sorrow it renew'd ;

But when nearer her I went

It increased my discontent ; 40

For a gentle nymph she proved Who me long unknown had loved.

Straight on me she fix'd her look, Which a deep impression took ; And, " Of all that live," quoth she, " Thou art welcomest to me." Then, misdoubting to be blamed, Thus she spake, as half ashamed.

MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS 191

" Thee unknown I long affected,

And as long in vain expected ; 50

For I had a hopeful thought

Thou wouldst crave what others sought ;

And I for thy sake have stay'd

Many wanton springs a maid.

" Still, when any wooed me, They renew'd the thought of thee ; And in hope thou would'st have tried Their affections, I denied.

But a lover forc'd upon me

By my friends hath now undone me. 60

" What I waking dared not show,

In a dream thou now dost know :

But to better my estate

Now, alas, it is too late.

And I, both awake and sleeping, Now consume my youth in weeping."

Somewhat then I would have said,

But replyings were denied.

For, methought, when speak I would,

Not a word bring forth I could. 70

And as I a kiss was taking,

That I lost too, by awaking.

192 MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

14. CERTAIN VERSES WRITTEN TO HIS LOVING FRIEND, UPON HIS DEPARTURE.

SWIFT Time, that will by no entreaty stay, Is now gone by, and summons me away ; And what my grief denies my tongue to do, My true affection drives my pen unto. Dear heart, that day and that sad hour is come In which thy face I must be banished from, And go to live where peradventure we Hereafter must for aye divided be.

For, 'twixt our bodies, which now close are met, A thousand hills and valleys shall be set, 10

A thousand groves, a thousand weeping springs, And many thousand other envious things, Which, when we are departed, keep us may From coming nearer till our dying day.

So these our hands, which thus each other touch Shall never after this time do so much ; Nor shall these eyes, which yet themselves delight, With mutual gazing on each other light, Be ever raised up again so near To view each other in their proper sphere ; 20

Nor e'er again, through those their crystal orbs, Read what sad passion our poor hearts disturbs.

Which when we think upon, we scarce contain Their swelling flood-gates, but a pearly rain Drops from those plenteous springs ; and forth are sent From those sad dungeons where our hearts are pent, So many sighs that, in our parting now,

MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS 193

A storm of passions we must venture through,

Whose fury I would stay to see o'erpast

Before I went, in spite of all my haste, 30

But that I view some tokens which foretell

That by delay the floods will higher swell,

And, whilst to be divided we are loth,

With some worse peril overwhelm us both.

Oh ! rather let us wisely undergo A sorrow that will daily lesser grow, Than venture on a pleasing mischief which Will unawares our honest hearts bewitch, And bring us to such pass at last that we Shall ne'er perceive it till undone we be. 40

I find your love, and so the same approve, That I shall ever love you for that love, And am so covetous of such dear pelf, That for it I could give away myself. And yet I rather would go pine and die For want thereof, than live till you or I Should give or take one dram of that delight Which is another's, and so mar outright Our most unstain'd affection, which hath yet No inclination unto ill in it. 50

Nay, though it more unsufferable were, I would e'en that just liberty forbear Which honest friendship is allow'd to take, If I perceived it me unapt did make To master my affections, or to go On those affairs that reason calls me to.

Those parents that discreet in loving be, When on their new-born child a wen they see VOL. ii 13

194 MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

Which may perchance in aftertime disgrace

The sweet proportion of a lovely face, 60

Although it wound their souls to hear the moan,

And see the tortures of their pretty one,

To weep a little rather are content

Whilst he endures the surgeon's instrument,

Than suffer that foul blemish there to spread,

Until his face be quite disfigured.

So we, betwixt whose souls there is begot That sweet babe, friendship, must beware no spot Through our indulgent indiscretion grow, That may the beauty of our love o'erthrow ; 70

Let's rather bear a little discontent, And learn of reason those things to prevent Which mar affection, that our friendship may Wax firmer and more lovely eveiy day.

There is indeed to gentle hearts no smarting That is more torment to them than departing From those they love ; and doubtless if that we Were so united as the married be, Our bodies at our parture would be so As if each of them did a soul forego. 80

But in our flesh we are, and must remain, Perpetual strangers, and ourselves contain From that embrace which marriage love allows, Or else, I injure virtue, you your vows, And for a short unworthy pleasure mar Those rich contentments which eternal are, Of which I am in hope that always we Should in each other's presence guiltless be. But in our absence sure I am we shall

MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS 195

Not only still be innocent of all 90

That simple folly and that oversight

To which our many frailties tempt us might,

But by this means shall also 'scape the blot

Wherewith ill tongues our names would seek to spot.

Which if you fear, and would avoid the wrongs That may befall you by malicious tongues, Then seek my absence, for I have in that Unto my friends been too unfortunate ; Yet as I love fair virtue, there is no man E'er heard me boast the favours of a woman 100

To her dishonour, neither, by my soul, Was I e'er guilty of an act so foul As some imagine ; neither do I know That woman yet with whom I might be so ; For never kindnesses to me were show'd Which I dared think for evil end bestow'd : Nor ever, to this present hour, did I Turn friendship, favour, opportunity, Or ought vouchsaf d me, thereby to acquire Those wicked ends which wantons do desire : no For whensoever lust begun to flame, It was extinguish'd by true love and shame.

But what would this my innocence prevail When your fair name detraction should assail ? And how abhorr'd should I hereafter be If you should suffer infamy by me ? You fear it not one half so much, you say, As you are loth I should depart away, And hap what will, you think to be content Whilst I am here, and you still innocent. 120

196 MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

Indeed, those friends approve I not which may By every slanderous tongue be talk'd away j But yet I like not him that will not strive, As much as in him lieth, free to live From giving just occasions of offence, For else he vainly brags of innocence ; And so do we, unless that without blame We purpose with our love to keep our fame.

Then let us pleased part ; and though the dearness Of our affection covets both a nearness 130

In mind and body, let us willingly Beget a virtue of necessity. And since we must compelled be to live By time and place divided, let us strive In the despite of time and distance, so That love of virtue may more perfect grow, And that this separation we lament May make our meeting fuller of content.

Betwixt our bodies, this I'll not deny, There is a dear respective sympathy, 140

Which makes us mutually both joy and grieve As there is cause : and farther, I believe That our contentment is imperfect till They have each other in possession still : But that which in us two I love dare name, Is 'twixt our souls, and such a powerful flame, As nothing shall extinguish nor obscure Whilst their eternal substance doth endure ; No, not our absence, nor that mighty space Betwixt my home and your abiding-place. 150

For ere your eyes my eyes had ever seen,

MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS 197

When many thousand furlongs lay between

Our unknown bodies, and before that you

Had seen my face, or thought the same to view,

You most entirely loved me, you say ;

Which shows our souls had then found out the way

To know each other, and unseen of us,

To make our bodies meet unthought of thus.

Then much less now shall hill, or dale, or grove, Or that great tract of ground which must remove 160 My body from you, there my soul confine, To keep it back from yours, or yours from mine. Nay, being more acquainted than they were, And active spirits, that can anywhere Within a moment meet, they to and fro Will every minute to each other go, And we shall love with that dear love wherein Will neither be offence nor cause of sin.

Yea, whereas carnal love is ever colder As youth decays, and as the flesh grows older, 170 And, when the body is dissolved, must Be buried with oblivion in the dust, We then shall dearer grow, and this our love, Which now imperfect is, shall perfect prove, For there's no mortal power can rob true friends Of that which noblest amity attends, Nor any separation that is able To make the virtuous lovers miserable. Since, when disasters threaten most dejection, Their goodness maketh strongest their affection, 180 And that which works in others' loves denial In them more noble makes it by the trial.

198 MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

"Pis true that when we part we know not whether These bodies shall for ever meet together, As you have said. Yet, wherefore should we grieve, Since we a better meeting do believe ? If we did also know that when we die This love should perish everlastingly, And that we must, as brutish creatures do, Lose with our bodies all our dearness too, 190

Our separation then a sorrow were Which mortal heart had never power to bear, And we should faint and die to think upon The passions would be felt when I were gone. But seeing in the soul our love is plac'd, And seeing souls of death shall never taste, No death can end our love — nay, when we die, Our souls, that now in chains and fetters lie, Shall meet more freely to partake that joy, Compar'd to which our friendship's but a toy, 200 And for each bitterness in this our love We shall a thousand sweet contentments prove.

Meanwhile, we that together living may Through human weaknesses be led astray, And unawares make that affection foul Which virtue yet keeps blameless in the soul, By absence shall preserved be as clean As to be kept in our best thoughts we mean, And in our prayers for each other shall Give and receive more kindnesses than all 210

The world can yield us ; and when other men Whose love is carnal are tormented when Death calls them hence, because they robbed be

MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS 199

Of all their hope for evermore to see

The object of their love, we shall avoid

That bitter anguish wherewith they are cloy'd.

And whensoe'er it happens thou or I

Shall feel the time approaching us to die,

It shall not grieve us at our latest breath

To mind each other on the bed of death, 220

Because of any oversight or sin

Whereof we guilty in our souls have bin ;

Nor will death fear us, 'cause we shall perceive

That these contentments which we had not leave

To take now we are living, shall be gain'd

When our imprison'd souls shall be unchain'd :

Nay, rather wish to die, we might possess

The sweet fruition of that happiness

Which we shall then receive in the perfection

Of Him that is the fullness of affection. 230

If time prevented not, I had in store To comfort thee so many reasons more, That thou wouldst leave to grieve, although we

should

Each other's persons never more behold. But there is hope. And then, that know you may True friends can in their absence find the way To compass their contentments whom they love, You shall ere long the power it hath approve. Meanwhile, you still are dear ; yea, live or die, My soul shall love you everlastingly. 240

And howsoe'er there seem such cause of sorrow, Yet those that part and think to meet to-morrow Death may divide to-night, and as before

200 MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS

Their fear was less, their grief will be the more.

Since, therefore, whether far I live or nigh

There is in meeting an uncertainty,

Let us for that which surest is provide,

Part like those friends whom nothing can divide ;

And since we lovers first became, that we

Might to our power each other's comfort be, 250

Let's not the sweetness of our love destroy,

But turn these weepings into tears of joy.

On which condition I do give thee this,

To be both mine and sorrow's parting kiss.

PHILARETE.

FINIS

The Stationer's Postscript.

THERE be three or four songs in this poem aforegoing, which were stolen from the Author, and heretofore impertinently imprinted in an imperfect and erroneous copy, foolishly intituled his " Worker," which the Stationer hath there falsely affirmed to be corrected and augmented for his own advantage, and without the said Author's knowledge, or respect to his credit. If therefore you have seen them formerly in those counterfeit impressions, let it not be offensive that you find them again in their proper places, and in the poem to which they appertain.

Vale.

LM.

NOTES TO VOL. II

Comments followed by "[A. C S.]" are extracted from Mr. A. C. Swinburne's essay, "George Wither and Charles Lamb," in Miscellanies, 1886.

NOTES

TO THE READER

p. 4. "Sir Politic Wouldbe," a character in Ben Jonson's Volpone.

FAIR VIRTUE

1. 33. Alresford, seven or eight miles west of Win chester, half-way between there and Bentworth. The wild goose may still be seen there in winter, but not the snow-white swan.

1. 36. i. e. , Winchester. King Arthur was crowned at Venta, as it was called.

1. 62. " bulloes." [A dialect form of " bullace," which Brydges printed: Gutch, "bullies."] A wild plum, larger than the sloe.

1. 63. See note on Shephertfs Hunting, Eel. I. , 1. 22.

1. 86. Cp. Shepherd's Hunting, Eel. IV., 11. 83, 4 :—

" Ciel'd so close with boughs all green Titan cannot pry between."

L 93. " laund"=lawn. Cp. Marlowe's Dido, Act I. sc. i. 1. 207, and note in Mr. A. H. Bullen's edition (1885).

1. 201. "applausive," approbative. It is also used to mean what can be applauded, or is worthy of applause.

1. 216. "respective," respectful.

1. 228. This description of himself is illustrative of his motto, " Nee habeo " (L 161), " nee careo " (L 228), " nee euro " (1. 181).

1. 232. "heroes," trisyllabic. So in his Motto:—

' ' I have no large demesnes, or princely rents, Like those heroes, nor their discontents."

Cp. also 1. 1509, and 1. 2982. 205

206 NOTES

1.271. "than, "then; as elsewhere passim.

1. 288. "Astrophel," Sir Philip Sidney's pastoral name.

1. 289. " Celia," etc. " Laura" is Petrarch's mistress ; "Stella," Sidney's. "Delia" perhaps refers to the poems of Samuel Daniel, and " Celia" is sung by more than one.

I. 343. " can," i. e., to be skilled in.

II. 353 — 4. Octavius Gilchrist, in the Gentleman's Magazine, vol. 70, compares these lines to Milton, Arcades, 1. 22 : —

' ' Mother of a hundred gods, Juno dares not give her odds."

Beyond the rhyme, the resemblance is small ; and the rhyme is used elsewhere by Wither.

11. 379—80. The rhyme "power, your (= yours)," is constantly used by Wither. Cp. 11. 431 — 2 ; 1173 — 4, etc.

1. 427. In Gutch's edition there is a note on the paragraph which begins here, referring to Milton, L Allegro, "Lap me in soft Lydian airs," etc. No doubt this was Lamb's contribution, not Dr. Nott's.

1. 456. " wh'er," whether.

1. 488. "it liketh me." John Fletcher was also writing at this time in the heptasyllabic metre, the Faithful Shepherdess being published in 1609—10 ; later Milton used it for L Allegro, etc. Charles Lamb called it Wither's " darling measure," and wrote his Farewell to Tobacco and other poems in imitation.

1. 492. " arts-men," scholars.

1. 534. Gutch's edition compares Horace, Odes, Book III., 30, " Exegi monumentum aere perennius."

I. 604. " Sparta's queen," Helen.

II. 633—4. Another common rhyme of Wither's. Cp.

11- 757. 9-

11. 677 — 8: " This resembles Cowley's conceit, ' None but himself can be his parallel.' " (Note in Gutch's edition.)

1. 691. "That"=so that. Cp. 1. 2511.

1.693. "wainlings," i.e., weanlings.

1. 696. " Broom-leas," leas covered with broom. This word seems to have puzzled both Gutch, who printed

FAIR VIRTUE 207

" Broom-leare," and Brydges, who copied the ancient form of the 1622 edition, " Brome-leaze. "

1. 767. This is another form of Inter Equitand : Pali- nod : first printed in the 1615 (private) edition of Fidelia, and reprinted in the 1617 and 1619 editions and 1620 (" Workes"). See vol. i., p. 140, and notes thereon.

1. 1031. See the critical note at the foot of text. I understand " methinketh " conditionally; "if I think I should go, I cannot." Perhaps "should I go" might be read.

I. 1084. "Meanly fring'd." Dr. Nott pencilled on Gutch's proof, ' ' This word should be explained ; I think it signifies interveniently, intermediately." Lamb replied, "Meanly is simply in a mean, or in moderation." [A. C. S.] Gutch, however, preferred to print, " Meanly here signifies interveniently; intermediately; as veiling the lustre of the eyes."

II. 1109—10. "lakes . . . makes." For the plural noun with the singular verb, cp. 11. 1159 — 60; 2019, etc.

1. 1184. " that transformed girl. " Arachne of Colo phon boasted of her skill in needlework, and challenged Athena to a competition ; being defeated, she was changed for her presumption into a spider. See Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book VI., 11. 1—69.

1. 1514. " his sisters," the Muses.

1. 1558. " flags too low." Cp. Shepherd's Hunting, Eel. IV., 1. 326, and note thereon ; and Fidelia, 1. 316.

1. 1712. "Jewish fasting-spittles." Dr. Nott wrote, "Explain this term." — "Leave it out," replied Lamb. [A. C. S.] There is a curious note in Topsell's Serpents :— " If the fasting-spittle of a Man fall into the jaws of a Serpent, he certainly dyeth thereof." Cp. Herrick, Hes- perides, The Fairie Temple, 1. 117, "Their holy oil, their fasting-spittle."

1. 1802. This seems to indicate that Philarete met his mistress in his wanderings in Ireland. See Introduction, p. xxi.

I. 1812. "endured." So printed both in the 1622 and 1633 editions. Lamb's suggestion, "endeared," recorded by Mr. Swinburne, is obvious, and almost certainly right.

II. 1813—4. " Cytherea's joy," Adonis; "the sweet self-loving boy," Narcissus.

208 NOTES

1. 1820. Daphne.

I. 1821. Danae.

II. 1823 — 4. Hero and Leander.

11. 1835—62. One of Lamb's "two passages of pre eminent merit." The other is 11. 1979 — 90, etc.

11. 1889 — 90. Cp. " Shall I wasting in despair," 11. 21 and 22 : —

Be she with that goodness blest Which may merit name of best."

(1615 edition.)

11. 1893 — 98. In a note at the end of his essay on Wither, Lamb, in quoting these six lines, says, ' ' V/hat metre could go beyond these ? " Against 11. 1897 — 8, Mr. Swinburne notes Lamb's remark, "Two eminently beautiful lines."

I. 1909. "Idea." " Drayton before him [Wither] had shadowed his mistress under the name of Idea." — Lamb's essay on Wither. Cp. 1. 1934.

II. 1935 — 6. The " happy swain" is William Browne, whose Britannia's Pastorals appeared in 1613 and 1616. This couplet must have been added later, when Wither came to London.

11. 1937—8. Dr. Nott suggested Lodge and Sidney ; Lamb wrote " Qu. Spenser and Sidney" ; the latter Mr. Swinburne, in recording the note, considers ' ' the more plausible conjecture, as the date of Lodge's popularity was out, or nearly so, before Wither began to write." Gutch, however, printed Dr. Nott's suggestion.

1.1962. "it"=its. See Fidelia, 1. 1078.

1. 2100. "undistained," undefiled. See note on Fidelia, 1. 584.

1. 2191. " The travels of Coriate and Lithgow were at this time highly popular." — Gutch's edition.

1. 2226. Aeneas.

1. 2231. " Leda's daughter" was Helen. The " Phry gian guest" is of course Paris.

1. 2262. "hour" is here, as constantly, a dissyllable.

1. 2395. This sonnet, perhaps the second best known song of Wither's, first appeared, in a slightly different form, at the end of the 1615 Fidelia. See vol. i., p. 141.

]. 2501. "Argus" had a hundred eyes ; he was set

FAIR VIRTUE 209

by Juno to watch lo. whom Jupiter had changed into a heifer. The old editions print " Argos."

1.2511. " That "= so that. Cp. 1. 691.

1. 2668. The reference is to the twelve Labours of Hercules.

1. 2670. Diana was so named on earth ; in heaven she was Luna, the "queen of night," and Hecate in the lower regions.

1. 2727. As commentary on the passage that begins here, Lamb transcribed an entire ode ("of the Love and the Beauties of Astrea") from Joshua Sylvester's trans lation of Du Bartas' Devinc Wtckes. (See Mr. Swin burne's essay.) It was printed by Gutch in its entirety.

1. 2835. " Yet no such." Dr. Nott suggested this should be " not such"; Lamb, who never failed to make a pun on the Doctor's name, retorted smartly. See Mr. Swinburne's essay.

1. 2982. "heroes." See note on L 232.

1. 2988. " cent or gleek." Cent was a game of cards, supposed to be of Spanish origin, and to resemble picquet : it was so called because ico was the game. Cotgrave describes another game called " Mariage," as ' ' resembling (somewhat) our Saint. "

Gleek was also a game of cards, played by three persons, and varied according to the stakes. Cp. Jonson , T/ie Devil an Ass, V. ii. , " I am for threepenny gleek your man."

1. 3011. " Old Pygmalion's picture" was rather a piece of sculpture; Ovid records that he decorated his ivory Galatea with gems and purple robes, but not that he tinted his Venus.

I. 3070. " sample" perhaps means " sampler" here.

II. 3169—74. " The rich Molucchi." The Moluccas, now the Spice Islands, are in the East Indian Archi pelago ; first discovered in 1521 by the Portuguese, who were driven out by the Dutch in 1607.

" The Iberians" are the Spaniards.

I. 3190. Cp. Shakespeare, Lucrece, stanza 96, II. 6 — 8. It is somewhat unfair to say that Lucrece killed herself "to purchase fame."

II. 3227 ff. Dr. Nott wrote, "The beauty of this passage is too apparent to need a comment." — "Then why give it one ? " retorted Lamb. [A. C. S.] Gutch nevertheless printed Dr. Nott's superfluous remark.

VOL. II. 14

210 NOTES

1. 3288. "Apollo's son." Dr. Nott, mistrusting his scholarship, wrote " ^Esculapius ? " [A. C.S.]

1- 3373- For another version of this song, see vol. i. , p. 138, and notes thereon.

1. 3413. This sonnet became popular, and was printed in many forms, and occasionally abbreviated, in the anthologies of the latter half of the seventeenth century, such as Cotgrave's Wit's Interpreter and the Marrow oj Compliments, both issued in 1655.

1. 3425. This unmetrical line is so printed in all editions. The version in the Wit 's Interpreter corrects the rhythm by reading " sweetness." Gutch printed it as it stands, without noting the missing syllable. Sir Egerton Brydges observed the omission, and proposed to read, "Such equal charms sweet Venus gave" (!) If "sweet" here be an epithet of Venus, I suggest that the word "sweet" should be repeated, "Such equal sweet sweet Venus gave." It can be easily imagined that one "sweet" might be omitted in printing. Otherwise, the early correction, "sweetness," naturally carries greater weight ; Cotgrave's version, however, is the same as Wither' s in scarcely two lines.

1. 3686. "tinding"= kindling.

1. 3889. " set up my rest," a metaphor from the game of Primero, meaning to make up one's mind. Cp. Romeo and Juliet, Act IV. sc. v. 1. 6.

L 4004. " Vulcan's lovely wife," Aphrodite, or Venus, as Wither would doubtless call her. The celebrated painting of Apelles represented her as issuing from the waves, and wringing her tresses on her shoulder.

1. 4042. "perjured Goodwin's lands;" the Goodwin Sands, off Deal, notorious for the danger they offer to vessels. One theory of their origin is that there was an island called Lomea, formerly the estate of Earl Goodwin or Godwin, which was washed away by the sea in 1097. Another tradition relates that in the time of William Rufus or Henry I. , they were caused by an inundation of the sea which swept over a great part of Flanders and the Low Countries. [See Hasted's Kent.'}

The epithet "perjured," applied to Earl Goodwin, may be explained by a tale told by William of Malmes- bury. The Earl, sitting at table with his father-in-law the King, said, ' ' If the God of Heaven be true and just,

FAIR VIRTUE 211

iet not this morsel of bread pass through my body, if I ever so much as thought of working thy destruction." On swallowing the bread he immediately choked.

1. 4096. " brawl," a French dance. See the descrip tion in Lave 's Labour's Lost, Act III. sc. i. 11. 6 ff. , and cp. The Malcontent (in Dodsley's Old Plays), Act IV. sc. ii.:—

" Aurelia. We have forgot the brawl.

Ferrardo. So soon ? 'tis wonder.

Gucrrino. Why, 'tis but two singles on the left, two on the right, three doubles forward, a traverse of six round ; do this twice, three singles side, a galliard trick of twenty, corranto pace ; a figure of eight, three singles broken down, come up, meet two doubles, fall back, and then honour."

I. 4161. Fantastic shapes in which to print songs and poems were much in favour at the time. Herbert, in the Country Parson, printed one in the shape of a church- porch ; and in Sylvester's translation from Du Bartas there are pyramids and altars, etc.

II. 4297 — 4302. This is perhaps an exaggeration as to the date of the development of the poet's amatory powers, but there is without doubt a hint that he was quite young when he began to compose.

1. 4305. This line is perhaps evidence that the greater part, at least, of Fair Virtue was an early piece of work.

L 4578. See note on 1. 1009.

L 4638. " May-lord," a young man chosen to preside over May-day festivities. A well-known May-lord is Ralph, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Knight of the Burn ing Pestle. Cp. Phineas Fletcher, The Purple Island, L ii.:—

"The shepherd boys, who with the Muses dwell Met in the plain their May-lords new to chose."

A POSTSCRIPT

1.13. " curt olize," curtail. In Murray's New English Dictionary, this is the earliest reference given for the word.

A MISCELLANY OF EPIGRAMS, ETC.

11. 6, 7. Enlto, not " Erato," was the Muse of amatory verse, not geometry ; nor is " dancing" a suitable epithet for Erato, it should be applied rather to Terpsichore ; while Calliope presided over heroic, not " loving," poetry.

1.9. " Polymnia, " Polymneia, or Polyhymnia, Muse of Rhetoric.

1. 4. " The stag " of Mount Maenalus in Arcadia. 1. 7. Wither gives the name as " y£geas." 1. ii. " The dragon " that guarded the golden apples of the Hesperides.

3-

A poetical catalogue typical of Wither. 1. 6. i.e., Kent, Essex, Sussex, and Middlesex. 1. 7. " Southampton," the old name for Hampshire.

6.

This description of Christmas is full of allusions to ancient games, etc. , about which little is recorded.

1. 30. " crowdy - mutton," according to Halliwell, means a fiddler. A "crowd " was a kind of viol.

1. 63. From Jonson's Every Man in his Humour, Act I. sc. hi. finis.

1. 75. Gutch notes, "a credible person, born and brought up in a village near Bury St. Edmunds . . . informed Mr. Brand [author of Popular Antiquities] that, when 212

NOTES 213

he was a boy, there was a rural custom there among the youths, of hunting owls and squirrels on Christmas day."

1. 76. " The wild-mare " was a kind of see-saw. Cp. //. King Henry IV., Act II. sc. iv., where Falstaff says, " he . . . rides the wild-mare with the boys."

1.78. "the dealing of the ox." Gutch suggests "kneeling," and again quotes Brand, who records a superstition in North Devon that oxen are always to be found on their knees at twelve o'clock on Christmas night. But there is no textual authority for this emenda tion, and the phrase remains unexplained.

1. 84. " noddy, " a game of cards, supposed to resemble cribbage.

1. 86. ' ' rowland-hoe." Halliwell only says " a Christ mas game," but gives no description of it. 8.

This beautiful sonnet has been undeservedly overlooked by anthologists.

9-

1. 8. " Black-boy and Salutation " are no doubt names of ale-houses. Both names were applied later to London taverns. See Mutton's Literary Landmarks.

12.

1.4. "untroubled," a tetrasyllable. Cp. "feebler" (trisyllabic) in 1. 26 of this song, and The Shepherd's Hunting, Eel. IV., 1. 372, and note thereon, vol. i., p. 190.

14.

This may be considered as epilogue to Fair Virtue, or perhaps as prologue to Fidelia.

1. 113. " prevail "= avail, as often. 1. 223. " fear "= frighten.

THE STATIONER'S POSTSCRIPT

This note, though signed I[ohn]. M[arriot]., was doubtless written by Wither himself, disclaiming the pirated " Workes " issued by Thomas Walkley.

APPENDIX A

[See vol. i., Introduction, p. xxiii, note.]

(a) Internal evidence for 1588 as the year of the poet's birth.

1. Salt upon Salt, 1658.

" The round I stand on maketh ten times seven.

2. Petition and Narrative, 1658.

" Of seven times ten, to spend years ten and seven In asking for mine own I have been driven."

3. Epistolium- Vagum-Prosa-Metricum, 1659. "... the seventieth year of my age being past."

4. Speculum Speculativum, 1660. "... at seventy years and two. "

5. Crums and Scraps, 1661.

" Deserving better than that lie I should Within a jail at seventy-three years old."

6. Memorandum to London, 1665.

' ' That year [1625] I having lived till the sun Had thrice twelve times quite through the zodiac run."

7. Fragmenta Prophetica, 1669. Legend round portrait : —

214

APPENDIX A 215

"Vera. Effigies. Georgei. Wither. Armiger. Cjui. Obiit. Ano. 1667. Aetat. Su. 79."

(b] Internal evidence for 1590.

1. Westrow Revived, 1653.

"... when much famed Elizabeth Reigned here, in whose time though I drew my

breath Not thirteen years ..."

2. Fragmenta. Prop he t 'tea, 1669.

"He [Wither] was thirteen years old when Queen Elizabeth reigned" [i e., died].

APPENDIX B

[See vol. i., Introduction, p. xxiv, note.]

Internal evidence that Abuses Stript and Whipt was published before 1613.

1. Dating of William Holle's portrait of Wither.

2. References in Epithalamia, published in 1612.

3. Se Defendendo, 1643.

" It is now above thirty years since I first began to suffer for my good affection to the public welfare. "

4. Vox Pacifica, 1645.

Wither says he "hath this freedom used nigh five and thirty years."

5. Prosopopeia Britannica, 1648.

11 Hast thou nigh forty years been vex'd and griev'd, By this dull generation unreliev'd ?"

6. The Perpetual Parliament, 1652.

" For as it by my journal -books appears, Somewhat above the term of forty years I have been on the hills of contemplation, A voluntary watchman for this nation."

7. Salt iipon Salt, 1659.

"... these monsters for whose overthrow I was engag'd nigh fifty years ago." 216

APPENDIX B 217

8. Speculum Speculativum, 1660.

" I fifty years have served them " [his countrymen].

9. Crums and Scraps, 1661.

" More to their shame than mine, who now have here Been their remembrancer nigh fifty year."

10. The Prisoner's Plea, 1661.

"God hath now preserved me about fifty years i"i being a remembrancer to myself and others."

11. A Second Course of Scraps and Crums, 1661.

'.' Nigh fifty years acquainted with the power Of jailers ..."

12. A Warning Piece to London, 1662—3.

11 In sixteen hundred ten and one I notice took of public crimes."

There are more than these, but they are less definite.

APPENDIX C

THE WILL OF GEORGE WITHER THE ELDER

(Extracted from the District Registry of the Probate Division of the High Court of Justice at Winchester. )

The last will and testament of George Withers, gent., late of Bent worth, deceased.

Particulars concerning the last will and testament of George Withers of Bentworth, if it should please God to prevent a more and full declaration or expression of his mind. After my soul and body recommended to God in Christ Jesus in whom I trust for my eternal salvation, and the recommendation of my dear wife and children for whom I am much bound to praise him and in my trouble pray to his gracious providence and protection :

Concerning my worldly goods this is my mind and will. First I give and bequeath to my daughter Mary the sum of fourscore pounds of good and lawful money of England. Item, to my daughter Ann the same sum of fourscore pounds. Item, to my daughter Polypena * the same sum of fourscore pounds. Item, to my son James the same sum of fourscore pounds. Item, to my son Antony the sum of twenty pounds. Item, to my daughter Jane the sum of five pounds. Item, I give to my wife Mary 2 Withers

1 Polyxena, whose name is spelled in various ways. -•' See vol. i., Introduction, p. xvi. 218

APPENDIX C 219

the sum of twenty pounds to be disposed of as she shall see good. These legacies duly paid within 4 or 5 years as I may hereafter more expressly mention, if God shall permit, and my funeral fitly performed, I give all that shall remain of my lands and goods to my deserving and beloved wife Mary and to my beloved and eldest son George,1 whom I do by these make and appoint the executors of this my will and testament. Item, I do give unto Thomas Martin3 and his three children an ewe sheep.

delyd- with mine own hand the four teenth day of October, 1629.

Geo. Wythers.3

Subscribed in the presence of

Thomas Sparke the mark of Antony + Bulbeck.

1 The poet.

2 A son-in-law, who married Elizabeth, daughter of the testator.

3 He died just a month later — November 17, 1629. The will was proved in 1630.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES

VOL. PAGF

Admire not, shepherd's boy ii. 87

Ah me ! ii. 151

A lad whose faith will constant prove ... ii. 57

Alexis, if thy worth do not disdain i. 65

Beneath this marble stone doth lie ... ... ii. 177

Beware thou look not who hereunder lies ... ii. 182

Boy, ha' done, for now my brain ii. 65

Bright northern star, and fair Minerva's peer i. 158

Come, my Muse, if thou disdain ii. 34

Fair England in the bosom of the seas ... ii. 175

Fair Helen having stained her husband's bed i. 181

Fair, since thy virtues my affections move ... ii. 124

First he the strong Nemean lion slew ... ii. 174

Gentle swain, good speed befall thee ii. 167

God was the first that marriage did ordain ... i. 180

Hail, fair beauties, and again ii. 41

Hail, thou fairest of all creatures ii. 7

Hence away, thou Siren, leave me ... ... i. 141

Hence away, you Sirens, leave me ... ... ii. 91

Here lie the bones of him that was of late ... ii. 181

Here lies within a cabinet of stone ii. 184

Here Philaret did give his song an ending ... ii. 166

Her who beneath this stone consuming lies ... ii. 183

222 INDEX OF FIRST LINES

If any carp for that my younger times ... ii. 173

I loved a lass, a fair one i. 148

I that erstwhile the world's sweet air did draw i. 43

I wandered out a while agone ii. 126

Let none suppose this relic of the just ... ii. 177

Long did I wonder, and I wonder much ... i. 181

Lo, Philaret, thy old friend here, and I ... i. 21

Lordly gallants, tell me this ii. 160

My Genius, say what thoughts these pantings

move i. 140

No sooner had the shepherd Philaret ... ... ii. 148

Now gentle sleep hath closed up those eyes ... ii. 182

Now that my body dead-alive ... ... ... i. 16

Now, young man, thy days and thy glories

appear ii. 184

O'ertired by cruel passions that oppress me ... ii. 61

Oft I heard tell, and now for truth I find ... i. 93

Oh ! how honoured are my songs ii. 102

Old Orpheus knew a good wife's worth so well i. 181

Prithee, Willy, tell me this i. 46

Sad eyes, what do you ail ii. 38

Seest thou not in clearest days ... ... i. 58

Shall I wasting in despair (1615 version) ... i. 138

Shall I wasting in despair (1622 version) ... ii. 124

Shall I wasting in despair (parody) ... ... i. 145

Shepherd, would these gates were ope ... i. 31

Soldier, of thee I ask, for thou canst best ... i. 180

So movingly these lines he did express ... ii. 154

So now is come our joyful'st feast ... ... ii. 178

So, now I see y' are shepherds of your word... i. 33

Swift Time, that will by no entreaty stay ... ii. 192

Tell me, my heart, what thoughts these pant- ings move ii. 36

The acts of ages past doth Clio write ... ii. 174

The ladies smiled oft when this they heard ... ii. 159

INDEX OF FIRST LINES 223

VOL. PAGE

Thus sang the nymph, so rarely well inspired ii. 172

Tis said, in marriage above all the rest ... i. 180

Two pretty rills do meet, and meeting make ii. n

Valentine, good-morrow to thee i. 169

What is the cause, when elsewhere I resort ... ii. 123

When bright Phoebus at his rest ii. 189

When Philomela with her strains ii. 95

Why covet I thy blessed eyes to see ii. 123

Willy, thou now full jolly tun'st thy reeds ... i. 9

Women, as some men say, unconstant be ... L 182

You gentle nymphs that on these meadows

play ii. 155

You that at a blush can tell ii. 20

You woody hills, you dales, you groves ... ii. 62

THE END

RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, LONDON & BUNGAY.

Pft Wither, George

2390 The poetry

A2

1902

v.2

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY

' *

>'

•