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Robert Herrick.

cipn/lrom

'■v

'HARPER & WMKr-muJwKr^

COTYTilGHT, 1882, "BY Q/lll Tights Reserved.

TYTS FHOm "y^s L£(i4'T)8tKHQ4LLS TUSSSS" fFISLT) & TVSHJ, LO^^DOO^.

PAGB

Preface i.

To his Muse 2

The Argument of his Book 5

A Beucolick, or Discourse of Neatherds g

To Blossoms 19

To Anthea, who may Command him any thing 20

To Daffadills 23

Love What It Is 23

Delight in Disorder 24

A Short Hymne to Venus 24

No Man Without Money 24

His Content in the Country 27

Upon Parson Beanes 28

PAGE

To a Bed of Tulips 28

Upon a Virgin Kissing a Rose 28

Discontents in Devon 31

His Returne to London 31

All Things Decay and Die 32

To Dianeme 32

His Grange, or Private Wealth 33

Posting to Printing 34

Upon Julia's Clothes 34

Divination by a Daffadill 37

The Cruell Maid 37

Upon Clunn 38

The Bleeding Hand : or, the Sprig of Eglantine Given to a Maid 41

His Protestation to Perilla 41

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time 42

Upon Sapho, Sweetly Playing, and Sweetly Singing 42

Againe 45

A Ring Presented to Julia 45

The Tinkers Song 46

The Succession of the Foure Sweet Months 49

The Rock of Rubies : and the Quarrie of Pearls 49

Money Makes the Mirth 49

The Hag 50

To Daisies, Not to Shut so Soone 53

Farewell Frost or Welcome the Spring 54

To Meddowes 54

To the Rose. Song 57

To the Western Wind 58

His Cavalier 58

Ceremonies for Christniasse .61

The Ceremonies for Candlemasse Day 61

His Poetrie his Pillar 62

A Ternarie of Littles, upon a Pipkin of Jellie Sent to a Lady . 65

A Meditation for his Mistresse 65

To be Merry 66

Corinna's Going a Maying 69

The Mad Maids Song 80

A Bucolick Betwixt Two 83

The Parcae, or. Three Dainty Destinies : The Armilet .... 84 The Willow Garland 87

PAGE

Upon Mrs. Eliz : Wheeler, under the Name of Amarillis ... 87 A Dialogue Betwixt Himselfe and Mistresse Eliza: Wheeler, un- der the Name of Amarillis 88

Why Flowers Change Colours 91

I Call and I Call 91

The Old Wives Prayer 92

Ceremony upon Candlemas Eve 92

Christmas-Eve, another Ceremonie 92

Dean-Bourn, a Rude River in Devon. By which sometimes he

lived 97

To his Maid Prew 98

Upon Prudence Baldwin. Her Sicknesse 98

Upon Prew his Maid 98

To Primroses Fill'd with Morning Dew loi

To Violets 102

Upon Love 102

The Primrose 105

To Mistresse Katherine Bradshaw, the Lovely, that Crowned him

with Laurel 105

A Vow to Venus 106

Upon Mistresse Susannah Southwell. Her Cheeks 106

Upon her Eyes 106

Upon her Feet 106

How Primroses came Green 109

A Canticle to Apollo no

Upon Julia's Voice no

Another upon her Weeping no

To Electra 113

On Love 113

Upon Himself 113

The Rainbow: or Curious Covenant 114

The Bracelet to Julia 114

The Rosarie 114

Song. His Mistris to him at his Farwell 117

His Request to Julia 117

Upon his Kinswoman Mistris Elizabeth Herrick n8

Anthea's Retraction 118

To Anthea 118

The Wake 121

Upon Much-More. Epig 121

To Julia 122

The Night-Piece, to Julia 122

Upon the Losse of his Mistresses 125

To the Reverend Shade of his Religious Father 125

To Laurels 126

To the Lark 127

The Fairies 127

Charms 128

Another Ceremonie 128

Upon Peason. Epig 128

Upon an Old Woman 128

Twelfe Night, or King and Queene 131

Content, not Gates 132

Jack and Jill 132

His Comfort 132

Upon Tap 132

To Anthea 135

His Wish to Privacie 135

Upon Spur 136

To his Booke 136

To my 111 Reader 136

To Dianeme 139

Upon Cuife. Epig 140

Upon the Detracter 140

To a Friend 140

Upon a Maide 143

An Epitaph upon a Virgin 143

To his Girles who would have him Sportfull 144

Lyrick for Legacies 144

The Comming of Good Luck 147

The Power in the People 147

111 Government 147

Losse from the Least 147

To Oenone 148

The Bride-Cake 148

His Tears to Thamasis 151

Cherrie-Ripe 152

How Pansies or Heats-Esse came first 152

To Robin Red-Brest 155

The Sadnesse of Things for Sapho's Sicknesse 155

PAGE

To Carnations. A Song 156

To Sapho . 156

On Chloris Walking in the Snow 156

Chloris Walking in the Snow is taken from Wits Recreation of 1640. Grosart, in his edi- tion of Herrick in 1876, rejects this poem, and states as Ins reason that there are no less than 62 pieces common to Wits Recreation and the Hesperides. and from this fact he believes that Herrick instructed his publisher to take the poems of his composition in Wits Recreation for the Hesperides, and that this was not copied denotes definitely that Herrick was not the writer of it.

How Roses came Red 159

How Violets came Blew 159

To Pansies 160

On Himselfe 160

Upon Blanch 160

To Sycamores 163

No Luck in Love 163

To Cherry-Blossomes 163

To his Booke 164

To his Booke 164

The Coblers Catch 164

Upon a Child that Dyed 167

How Marigold's came Yellow 167

To Mistresse Dorothy Parsons 167

To his Nephew to be Prosperous in his Art of Painting . . .168

The Departure of the Good Demon 168

Upon Fone a School-Master. Epig 168

Upon Love, by Way of Question and Answer 171

To Musique, to Becalme his Fever 171

His Confession 175

A Christmas Caroll Sung to the King in the Presence at White- Hall 17s

Eternitie 176

Cock-Crow 179

The Bed-Man, or Grave-Maker 179

Temptation 179

The Rose 180

An Ode of the Birth of Our Saviour 180

A Grace for a Child 183

Upon Teares 183

The Bell-Man 184

To Keep a True Lent 184

Cloaths for Continuance 187

B

Preface.

|E reve de la vie champetre" — as Georges Sand has said compactly in the delightful Mare au Diable — " a ete de tout temps I'iddal des villes." T)eny it as we may, we have all had, or must have it, — that fever of the fields. We may prate with Captain Morris of our shaded Pall Mall ; we may hug ourselves with Lamb on the " sweet security of streets " ; we may romance at large upon the liberties of locomotion and the merits of the morning paper; but to each and all of us, the young, the old — and even the middle-aged — has come or will come, to-day or to-morrow, that hunger for the hills and woods, — that craving for country scenes and sights. Old places that we never noted, old things that we never re- member to have forgotten, flash suddenly " upon our inward eye" and crowd back " into our study of imagi- nation." Where was it that we saw those three little ducks huddling together in the sunlight, by what forgotteti farm door, at whose porch a convolvulus climbed over a laurel? — where that shaggy ajid loose-limbed mare, whose foal lay rolling in the grass ? We never seem to have regarded that '''■ cornfield-side a-flutter with poppies" and yet here they are, in black and scarlet, dancing like Wordsworth's daffodils. oAnd where is that hedge of meadow-sweet and dog-rose, with the mower s jacket and stone-bottle and watch- ful terrier which lie so distinctly on our retina ? Old

groups i.

« € .• •

groups of cattle under trees whose shadows lengthen on the slopes; old dusty teams led tinkling to the water ; little bridges by mills where the stream comes rushing blackly from sombre under-channels ; gray quarries where the sand-tnartins have honey-combed the chalk; willowy hollows and restful river-banks where the '''• very fearful" chub lie unsuspecting at the surface ; roofs rusted with lichen, and crested with house-leek, where processional pigeons " most do congregate " ; cottages with their round wells, and homely door-settles, and honest garden-flowers — their marjoram, and peony, and pink, and marygold ; all these troop back disorderly, confusedly, when we yield our- selves captive to the whim and the hour. cAs the vision is the more unreasonable, as the time is the more ill-timed, the more complete is our surrender. "By and by, humanity, too, slips slowly into our ken. oAnd at this stage we are conscious of a certain obliquity — a certain dishonesty — in our tnental photography : it is not the '■^ horfi-handed breaker of the glebe," still less the agricultural labourer of the blue- books, who people our solitudes. It is the peasant of the artist, in his spotless smock and picturesque wideawake, with his apple cheeked spouse and his white-haired children. Or it is that pastoral personage of the poets, who never lived but in the Nomansland of Arcadian unreality where, as some one said, '^ peers of the realm pipe on rocks, in velvet panta- loons!' It is " neat-handed Phyllis " with her savoury messes ; it is winsome Amaryllis ; it is Thestylis binding the sheaves with Corvdon beside her ; it is Doris, and Chloris, and Lalage, and the rest. We are deceived, and we wish to be so; we are the victims of an amiable insanity ; we are stirred by that pristine Pan whose mark we have all of us somewhere about us, like the sharp ear-tip in the Faun of Praxiteles. " Le rdve de la vie champetre a ete de tout temps I'id^al des villes."

In

u.

hi such a mifigltng of memory and fancy, in such a mood ungrattfied, there is no better companion than that old poet of the Seventeenth Century who wandered in his Devon lanes at May-time, and sang, in " cleanly-wanton- nesse " and golden-hearted words, of Julia and Corinna. With Herrick we become spectators of a country-life which time has ^''softly moulded in the filmy blue" of doubtfullest remoteness, and over which his poetry has cast its inalien- able— its imperishable charm. With him we walk about our

" owne dear bounds

Not envying others larger grounds "

and watch

" a present God-like Power Imprinted in each Herbe and Flower : And smell the breath of great-ey'd Kine, Sweet as the blossomes of the Vine."

With him we behold the

" large sleek Neat Unto the Dew-laps up in meat :"

or

" view the flocks Of sheep, (safe from the Wolfe and Fox) And find their bellies there as full Of short sweet grasse, as backs with wool." With him we eat ^^ Tarts and Custards'' at Wakes; with him we linger at aAIay-poles and oM orris-dances, at ^^ Shecring-f easts" and ^Mummeries, at Hock-carts and ^^ 'Barly-^reaks" ; we revel with him at " Twelfe-tide " and " Christmas," and share the

" Nut-browne mirth, the Russet wit," where

" no man payes too deare for it."

With him, lest coy maids should see goblins, we tear down the misletoe and hollv on Candlemas eve ; and spread, at

Whitsuntide, iii.

Whitsuntide, with green rushes and ^'■sweetest Merits" the new adorned house. '''■When the Rose raignes" — when, (it may be J, he has quaffed a health to Ovid or Catullus, and the

" iinmensive cup Of oAromatike wine " has cast a classic haze over his English eye-sight, we join our voices to his, and sing of kisses and " True-love knots," of '■''cherry lips" and

" Cheeks like Creame Enclarited."

We sigh with him

" as Lovers do :

And talk of Brides ; ^ who shall make

This wedding-smock, this Bridal-Cake

That Dress, this Sprig, that Leaf, this Vine;

That smooth and silken Columbine.

This done, we draw lots, who shall buy

And guild the Bales and Rosemary :

What Posies for our Wedding Rings ;

What gloves we'l give, and Ribanings :

And smiling at our selves, decree.

Who then the joyning T^riest shall be.

What short sweet Pravers shall be said ;

And how the Posset shall be made

With cream of Lillies (not of Kine) , And oMaiden's-blush, for spiced wine."

We arc never tired of hearing him sing of Julia's dress and its "brave ^Vibration," of her "^ handsome cAnger," of her "Lawnes" and "Tiffanies," her " hair e filVd with T)ew" and her "Quarelets of Tear I." CT^or is it any defect in this delightful lyrist that (as Horace before him J he sings with equal gust of Dianem^ ajtd Perenna, of Electra and Anthea, or of the three " dainty T>estinies," who weave his "oArmilet." oAnd now again we take part in that fairy service of King Oberon, where stands

"Just iv.

"Just in the middle of the Altar Upon an end, the F'atrte-Tsalter, Grac't with the Trout-flies curious wings";

and where

" Hard by, i'th'shell of halfe a nut, The holy- water there is put"; or we assist at those pretty pagan hymnlets where he vows ^^ T>affadills'' to Bacchus, or a peacock to Juno, or a " broad-fact Owle " to Minerva. Or we listen to him when, in those divinest lines, he bids a bride come on,

" and veeld A savour like unto a blessed field,

When the bedabled Morne Washes the golden eares of corne"; or prays to music to " becalme his Fever," — to " Fall on him like a silent dew.

Or like those Maiden showrs. Which, bv the peepe of day, doe strew A Baptime o're the flowers." 'But in the mood with which this paragraph began, it is chiefly as the fresh singer of the country-life, that we prize and praise him most. He fits our whim by his clear and lucid vision of natural objects, and he peoples his landscapes with figures that we would see, if we could, and know, if it might be. He adds too that, which, without him, our unspeculative eyes might seek in vain, —

"the light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the Poet's dream." oAnd here it is necessary to justify a certain air of partiality in the series of poems to which these words are prefatory. To find in Herrick but the idyllic and the amorous, — to see in him no more than the bard of those

" unbaptized Rhimes Writ in his wild unhallowed Times," —

is

ts to forget (as it cannot but seem) his graver and austeter cMuse, — to lose in the apple-orchards of the Hesperides the vesper-chiming of the Noble Numbers. Such a forgetful- ness, however, — such a profane misliking, is far from those to whom this gathering is due. If they have forborne to tread the dim aisles where " the pealing organ blows" and lingered rather among the deep grasses and zigzag fruit-tree-arms, — if their motto has been rather " leviore plectro " than " oAt a solemn oMusick," it is because their humour has been more often gay than grave, and that it is in their " trop lasche oysifvete " that they have read their Poet. Hence, in this their garland, they make no claim to have exhausted all the flower-beds. They do not pretend to be representative, or eclectic, or chronological — or even aesthetic I If any outline or vision of a plan may be said to have affected them, it has been to lean somewhat to those pieces which deal with the rustic pictures, the old-world pleasures, the simple folk-lore of an earlier and less progress- ridden England, "^ut even to admit this, is to admit too much. Such an anthology as tnight grow up in a painter s studio, where, through some sunny afternoon, one reads aloud while the other works, would be the fittest image of the present , selection. Suppose afterwards that the whole were printed together — the pictures which were drawn, the poems which were read, and the volume before the reader is suflUciently explained. To explain it more fully or more precisely would be to detain him needlessly — nay even discourteously, from the dainties before him. For who but an oAncienl Mariner would button-hole a bidden guest where the host is TiO'B&TiJ HGT<JUCK !

.Austin Dobson.

VI

TO HIS muss.

^ ^ \HITH6>%^ aMad maiden wilt thou roame ? LSI) Farre safer 'twere to stay at home :

Where thou mayst sit, and piping please The poore and private Cottages. Since Coats, and Hamlets, best agree With this thy meaner Minstralsie. There with the Reed, thou mayst expresse The Shepherds Fleecie happinesse : And with thy Eclogues intermixe Some smooth, and harmlesse 'Beucoltcks. There on a Hillock thou mayst sing Unto a handsome Shephardling ; Or to a Girle (that keeps the Neat) With breath more sweet than Violet. There, there, (perhaps) such Lines as These May take the simple Uillages. But for the Court, the Country wit Is despicable unto it. Stay then at home, and doe not goe Or flie abroad to seeke for woe. Contempts in Courts and Cities dwell ; No Critick haunts the Poore mans Cell. Where thou mavst hear thine own Lines read By no one tongue, there, censured. That man's unwise will search for 111, And may prevent it, sitting still.

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TH& c^7^GZ7c7kf<SC^Cr OF HIS "BOOK.

/Sing of ^Brooks, of '■Blqfomes, Tiii'ds, and 'Bowers : Of cAprtl, oMay, of J^unc, and J'?//y-Flowers. I sing of cMay-po/es, Hock-carts. Wajfails.^ Wakes, Of 'Bride-grooms, 'Brides, and of their 'Bridall-cakes.

I writfe of Youth, of Love, and have Acceffe

By these, to sing of cleanly- Wantonejfe.

I sing of T>ewes, of 'Raines, and piece by piece

Of 'Balme, of Ojy/^, of Spice, and oAmber-Greece.

I sing oi Times trans-shifting ; and I write

How lapses first came "Z^t/, and Lillies White.

I write of Groves, of Twilights, and I sing

The Court of oMab, and of the Fairie-King.

I write oi Hell ; I sing (and ever shall)

Of Heaven, and hope to have it after all.

^i

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Dij-<^ovjLj-£ ^ mKiniuj'

^ C^ine fclitK«-/vIl NeAtherd:^ Jet v^ lay A v/ag<ir >*• ih» b't\ Shs-K fliiy Of ,^,« Or 1 ,),j ro^yiiel^y

In. .eutjte },„t s.Iiit. "^j.i.n''

qA "B&UCOLICK, oil "DISCO UI^SS OF C^6cATH6'K!DS.

'C

10qM& blithefull Neatherds, let us lay A wager, who the best shall play, Of thee, or I, the Roundelay, That fits the businesse of the Day.

Chor. And Lallage the Judge shall be, To give the prize to thee, or me.

2 Content, begin, and I will bet A Heifer smooth, and black as jet, In every part alike compleat. And wanton as a Kid as yet.

Chor. And Lallage (with cow-like eyes) Shall be Disposeresse of the prize.

1 Against thy Heifer, I will here Lay to thy stake a lustie Steere,

With gilded homes, and burnisht cleere. Chor. Why then begin, and let us heare

The soft, the sweet, the mellow note That gently purles from cithers Oat.

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

Lai. The equall Umpire shall be I,

Who'l hear, and so judge righteously.

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

^He playes.

9

S^He playes. I That's sweetly touch't, I must confesse :

Thou art a man of worthinesse :

But hark how I can now expresse

My love unto my Neatherdesse.

\He sings. Chor. A suger'd note ! and sound as sweet

As Kine, when they at milking meet.

4 Now for to win thy Heifer faire, rie strike thee such a nimble Ayre, That thou shalt say (thy selfe) 'tis rare ; And title me without compare.

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

2 To get thy Steerling, once again,

rie play thee such another strain ;

That thou shalt swear, my Pipe do's raigne

Over thine Oat, as Soveraigne.

S^He sings. Chor. And Lallage shall tell by this,

Whose now the prize and wager is.

I Give me the prize : 2. The day is mine :

I Not so ; my Pipe has silenc't thine : And hadst thou wager'd twenty Kine, They were mine own. Lai. In love combine,

Chor. And lay we down our Pipes together. As wearie, not o'recome by either.

lO

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Tji". Wi« :„i„e c„

TO "BLOSSOdMS.

r^C^mS pledges of a fruitfull Tree, Ml Why do yee fall so fast ?

Your date is not so past ; But you may stay yet here a while,

To blush and gently smile ; And go at last.

What, were yee borne to be

An houre or half's delight ;

And so to bid goodnight ? Twas pitie Nature brought yee forth

Meerly to shew your worth. And lose you quite.

But you are lovely Leaves, where we

May read how soon things have Their end, though ne'r so brave :

And after they have shown their pride.

Like you a while : They glide Into the Grave.

19

TO qAUXJH&qA, who eMcAY COmoMcAU^'D Him qAUX. Y THIUHiG.

«

IT) me live, and I will live Thy Protestant to be ;

Or bid me love, and I will give A loving heart to thee.

A heart as soft, a heart as kind, A heart as sound and free,

As in the whole world thou canst find, That heart He give to thee.

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,

To honour thv Decree : Or bid it languish quite away,

And't shall doe so for thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep, While I have eyes to see :

And having none, yet I will keep A heart to weep for thee.

Bid me despaire, and He despaire. Under that Cypresse tree :

Or bid me die, and I will dare E'en Death, to die for thee.

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,

The very eyes of me : And hast command of every part,

To live and die for thee.

20

TO T>cAFFqAT}ILLS.

qAI%§, DafFadills, we weep to see You haste away so soone : yet the early-rismg Sun [as not attain'd his Noone. Stay, stay,

Until the hasting day

Has run But to the Even-song ; And, having pray'd together, we Will goe with you along.

We have short time to stay, as you.

We have as short a Spring ; As quick a growth to meet Decay, As you, or any thing.

We die. As your hours doe, and drie

Away, Like to the Summers raine ; Or as the pearles of Mornings dew Ne'r to be found againe.

LOV& WHcAT IT IS.

L

0T)& is a circle that doth restlesse move In the same sweet eternitv of love.

23

1>& LIGHT 17<i 1)IS0T^&Ti,

M Sweet disorder in the dresse j» /-§ Kindles in cloathes a wantonnesse :

A Lawne about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction : An erring Lace, which here and there Enthralls the Crimson Stomacher : A CufFe neglectfull, and thereby Ribbands to flow confusedly : A winning wave (deserving Note) In the tempestuous petticote : A carelesse shooe-string, in whose tye I see a wilde civilitv : Doe more bewitch me, then when Art Is too precise in every part.

qA SH0T<J HYdMUX.'S' TO V€7^US.

y^OT>T>SSSi;, I do love a Girle f 'W' 'Kl^^te-lipt, and tooth'd with T^carl .

fy If so be, I may but prove Luckie in this Maide I love : I will promise there shall be oMirtles offer'd up to Thee.

VXp ciMoATHi WITHOUT ciTlf 0^(S F.

J\fO man such rare parts hath, that he can swim, ^-^ » If favour or occasion helpe not him.

24

J^Ji^Kt in Pif°rdL^r

y^^.'^&p ' ^iX'

HIS COU^TGU^T lUX. TH& C0U7<iT%Y.

T" yS^iG, here I live with what my Board, / / Can with the smallest cost afford.

Though ne'r so mean the Viands be, They well content my 'Prew and me. Or Pea, or Bean, or Wort, or Beet, What ever comes, content makes sweet : Here we rejoyce, because no Rent We pav for our poore Tenement : Wherein we rest, and never feare The Landlord, or the Usurer. The Quarter-day do's ne'r affright Our PeacefuU slumbers in the night. We eate our own, and batten more, Because we feed on no mans score : But pitie those, whose flanks grow great, Swel'd with the Lard of others meat. We blesse our Fortunes, when we see Our own beloved privacie : And like our living, where w'are known To very few, or else to none.

27

0

UD Parson 'dearies hunts six dayes of the week, And on the seaventh, he has his Notes to seek. Six dayes he hollows so much breath away, That on the seaventh, he can nor preach, or pray.

TO qA 'B&'D of TULITS.

y^f^TilGHT TuUps, we do know, k r\ You had your comming hither ;

And Fading-time do's show, That Ye must quickly wither.

Your Sister-hoods mav stay. And smile here for vour houre ; But dye ye must away : Even as the meanest Flower.

Come Virgins then, and see Your frailties ; and bemone ye ; For lost like these, 'twill be, As Time had never known ye.

VPOC^ qA VITiGIUX. KISSICT^G (zA %OSE.

rWcAS but a single T^ose, Till you on it did breathe ; But since (me thinks) it shows Not so much '^se, as Wreathe.

23

VPON-ArVJRt'lN-KlJ'/IN^v^^

^)0\vAX Ijvt a Jjngle^Roxe, |fTill You Oh h did BreatUe. %:_, Bvt ^fhce y^e thinKj; it sUP^ t Not J-o mvch, RfJ- s ^«f ^^'

'ij;*^ Wrea-ihe

R-ttetricK.

It /F'O'J^ discontents I never had M / f M Since I was born, then here ;

Where I have been, and still am sad, In this dull T>evon-shire : Yet justly too I must confesse ;

I ne'r invented such Ennobled numbers for the Presse, Then where I loath'd so much.

HIS 1{€TUT^UX,^ TO LOC^T)OCX.

"W ^'T^OcvVf the dull confines of the drooping West, Ml To see the day spring from the pregnant East, Ravisht in spirit, I come, nay more, I flie To thee, blest place of my Nativitie ! Thus, thus with hallowed foot I touch the ground,

With

With thousand blessings by thy Fortune crown'd. O fruitful Genius ! that bestowes there An everlasting plenty, yeere by yeere.

0 Tlace ! O Teople ! Manners ! fram'd to please All UHiations, Customes, Kindreds, Languages /

1 am a free-born Tinman ; suffer then, That I amongst you live a Citizen.

London my home is : though by hard fate sent Into a long and irksome banishment ; Yet since cal'd back ; henceforward let me be, O native countrev, repossest by thee ! For, rather then I'le to the West return, rie beg of thee first here to have mine Urn ; Weak I am grown, and must in short time fall ; Give thou my sacred Reliques Buriall.

CALL THIT^GS DQCoAY cAC^T) "BIS.

/ILL things decay with Time : The Forrest sees ^ Am The growth, and down-fall of her aged trees :

That Timber tall, which three-score lusters stood The proud 'Dictator of the State-like wood : I meane (the Soveraigne of all Plants) the Oke Droops, dies, and falls without the cleavers stroke.

TO 1)IqA'J^&qM&.

/^T^&^-A%&, though to part it be a Hell, ^ B M Yet T>ianeme now farewell :

Thy frown (last night) did bid me goe ; But whither, onelv Grief do's know.

I

32

I doe beseech thee, ere we part,

(If mercifull, as faire thou art ;

Or else desir'st that Maids sho'd tell

Thv pitty by Loves-Chronicle)

O T)iaueme, rather kill

Me, then to make me languish stil !

'Tis cruelty in thee to'th'height,

Thus, thus to wound, not kill out-right :

Yet there's a way found (if thou please)

By sudden death to give me ease :

And thus devis'd, doe thou but this,

Bequeath to me one parting kisse :

So sup'rabundant joy shall be

The Executioner of me.

HIS ClicJC^GS, Oil TTilVcATQ WQoALTH

Though clock,

To tell how night drawes hence, I've none,

A Cock, I have, to sing how day drawes on.

I have A maid (my T^rew) by good luck sent,

To save That little. Fates me gave or lent.

A Hen I keep, which creeking day by day,

Tells when She goes her long white egg to lay.

A goose I have, which, with a jealous care,

Lets loose

Her

33

Her tongue, to tell what danger's neare.

A Lamb I keep (tame) with my morsells fed,

Whose Dam An Orphan left him (lately dead.)

A Cat I keep, that playes about my House,

Grown fat, With eating many a miching Mouse

To these A *Trasy I do keep, whereby nkP''*'

I please The more my rurall privacie :

Which are But toyes, to give my heart some ease :

Where care None is, slight things do lightly please.

z

TosTiuxG TO 'p%i:nitiuxg.

6T others to the Printing Presse run fast, Since after death comes glory, I/e not haste.

UTOU^ JULloAS CLOTH&S.

Cf ^ \H&^y^ as in silks my Julia goes,

L\IJ Then, then (me thinks) how sweetly flowes

That liquefaction of her clothes. Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave Vibration each way free ; O how that glittering taketh me !

34

"DIVIT^qATIOU^ "BY qA ^cAFFqADILL

w

\H6U^ a DafFadill I see,

Hanging down his head t' wards me;

Guesse I may, what I must be : First, I shall decline my head ; Secondly, I shall be dead ; Lastly, safely buryed.

THQ C%V&LL moAIT).

yt7^^ Cruell Maid, because I see M y~f ^^ou scornfull of my love, and me : He trouble you no more ; but goe My way, where you shall never know What is become of me : there I Will find me out a path to die ; Or learne some way how to forget You, and your name, for ever : yet Ere I go hence ; know this from me, What will, in time, your Fortune be : This to your coynesse I will tell ; And having spoke it once. Farewell.

37

The

The Lillie will not long endure ; Nor the Snow continue pure : The Rose, the Violet, one day See, both these Lady-flowers decay : And you must fade, as well as they. And it may chance that Love may turn, And (like to mine) make your heart burn And weep to see't ; yet this thing doe, That my last Vow commends to you : When you shall see that I am dead, For pitty let a teare be shed ; And (with your Mantle o're me cast) Give my cold lips a kisse at last : If twice you kisse, yon need not feare, . That I shall stir, or live more here. Next, hollow out a Tombe to cover Me ; me, the most despised Lover : And write thereon, This, %eader, know. Love kiir d this man. No more but so.

U'POT^ CLUUXPK.-

M Rowle of Parchment Cliinn about him beares, g^ /-§ Charg'd with the Armes of all his Ancestors : And seems halfe ravisht, when he looks upon That 'Bar, this 'Bend ; that Fess, this Cheveron ; This oManch, that oMoone; this oMartlet, and that oMound; This counterchange of Terle and ^Diamond. What joy can Clun have in that Coat, or this. When as his owne still out at elboes is ?

38

"V^^n Cjvnn-

¥

y'-^l^ ^f Bar<^hTOf«i *-Jvnn aboyv him W^^r^f^

^hATg'o! */iOi lilt armf./- »/ aII hir ATi<>frVo,.^ , a1 :-Iy\«ol Jeemr Half Te\U-irht_, «h«it he Jo"^^" ^J^"'!- ^'V^"^

l^^j- Usy "^y- f<ill "vt ^l <^lbo<^y^ zy- 7 \ml

^E^S^Ki	^^i^|^^Hpi:^S^HH|^|
	^^"■^^^^Sr^-^^^-^i^^^^^^S
l^^^^l^	^^^^&^s

TH6 'BLSS'DICXG Hc^:?CD . 07^, TH6 STT^IG OF 6GLcJC\TICX,S GIVGCX TO oA moAlT)

W ^^{OaM this bleeding hand of mine, ml Take this sprig of Eglantine.

Which (though sweet unto your smell) Yet the fretfull bryar will tell, He who plucks the sweets shall prove Many thorns to be in Love.

HIS TWT&STcATIOU^ TO "P&^lLLcA.

li /^00NQ-1)A Yand Midnight shall at once be scene : m / \/ Trees, at one time, shall be both sere and greene :

Fire and water shall together lye In one-self-sweet-conspiring sympathie : Summer and Winter shall at one time show Ripe eares of corne, and up to th'eares in snow : Seas shall be landlesse ; Fields devoid of grasse ; Shapelesse the world, (as when all Chaos was) Before, my deare '^Perilla, I will be False to my vow, or fall away from thee.

41

TO THS VITiGIDSiS, TO mcAKQ mUCH OF TimS>,

Q

dATH&^yt Rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a flying : And this same flower that smiles to day, To morrow will be dying.

The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,

The higher he's a getting ; The sooner will his Race be run,

And neerer he's to Setting.

That Age is best, which is the first, When Youth and Blood are warmer ;

But being spent, the worse, and worst Times, still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time ;

And while ye may, goe marry : For having lost but once your prime,

You may for ever tarry.

UTOUSi Scat HO, SWQQTLY "PLcAYIUXG, oAU^'D SWQ&TLY SIC\^GICXG.

CT/^ \H6C\ thou do'st play, and sweetly sing, ^J^y Whether it be the voice or string.

Or both of them, that do agree Thus to en-trance and ravish me : This, this I know, I'm oft struck mute ; And dye away upon thy Lute.

42

■VY^ji

Ifkffh

o

'v/hm ttv'-v dj'ft pKy ^ fw'-'^Lly finj ,„ ^ Wh'nK^r it be l!x'' u^i^e Or I'trini'".

qAGqAIU^S.

^ ^ \HEU^ I thy singing next shall heare, i\J J He wish I might turne all to eare,

To drink in Notes, and Numbers ; such As blessed soules cann't heare too much : Then melted down, there let me lye Entranc'd, and lost confusedly : And by thy Musique strucken mute, Die, and be turn'd into a Lute.

qa %i^g t'KSsscnj&'d to JULIcA.

7ULIcA, I bring To thee this Ring, Made for thy finger fit ; To shew by this, That our love is (Or sho'd be) like to it.

Close though it be,

The joynt is free : So when Love's yoke is on,

It must not gall.

Or fret at all With hard oppression.

But it must play

Still either way : And be, too, such a yoke,

As not too wide.

To over-slide ; Or be so strait to choak.

45

So

So we, who beare,

This beame, must reare Our selves to such a height :

As that the stay

Of either may Create the burden light.

And as this round Is no where found

To flaw, or else to sever : So let our love As endless prove ;

And pure as Gold for ever.

MLOU^G, come along, ^ /-i Let's meet in a throng

Here of Tinkers ; And quaff^e up a Bowie As big as a Cowle

To Beer Drinkers. The pole of the Hop Place in the Ale-shop

to Bethwack us ; If ever we think So much as to drink

Unto Hacchus. Who frolick will be, For little cost he

Must not vary, From Beer-broth at all, So much as to call

For Canary.

46

Iks 'TlNKI,^ •JokG'

If ^u^'r ^= Oiii^k

-'Zsn'

■'Who fr°Ji=Tc \*i;i b^ T^vft TV't ua.TJ' Jo Tav=h- A-^ -1° 'all

TH& S rices SSIOC\^ OF TH& FOU%S> SW&&T mOU^THS.

W ^/T^ST, oApril^ she with mellow showrs #7 Opens the way for early flowers ;

Then after her comes smiling oMay., In a more rich and sweet aray : Next enters June, and brings us more Jems, then those two, that went before : Then (lastly) July comes, and she More wealth brings in, then all those three.

TH& WCK OF TiWEISS : cAT^'D TH& QUoAT^m OF T^&qA%LS.

SOaMS ask'd me where the l^ibtes grew ? And nothing I did say : But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia. Some ask'd how T^earls did grow, and where ?

Then spoke I to my Girle, To part her lips, and shew'd them there The Quarelets of Pearl.

^n yn&UX. all Birds els do of their musick faile ^^ Money's the still-sweet-singing U^ightingale.

49

1 I

TH& HoAG.

H& Hag is astride, This night for to ride ; The Devill and shee together :

Through thick, and through thin, Now out, and then in, Though ne'er so foule be the weather.

A Thorn or a Burr

She takes for a Spurre : With a lash of a Bramble she rides now,

Through Brakes and through Bryars,

O're Ditches, and Mires, She foUowes the Spirit that guides now.

No Beast, for his food,

Dares now range the wood ; But husht in his laire he lies lurking :

While mischiefs, by these.

On Land and on Seas, At noone of Night are a working.

The storme will arise.

And trouble the skies ; This night, and more for the wonder,

The ghost from the Tomb

Affrighted shall come, Cal'd out by the clap of the Thunder.

50

iHa;

■\S:

•Kfipid'

i^HAO

'e>

YDeuiBc'fieeiOge

Me

BvL-Hvihiirilii.rUlm^iiejivfK Thovgh.-ne>fo.fOYiebe-^\V^d(h^nL-Noon^ "" ■

6

,„, Jli^^taKerfora-JpvrreO^^?Anc('lovbie>5-6rjtitx- aer

Tliros^lvBraKepftjOiT-ovHliWKII^QnPrt-fWT^^ jr^efojiON5^ej-.^jpirJt.(na-C>viciejiGard-ov\-by-:fClap3ff-TUm

TO "DqAISI&S, USiOT TO SHUT SO SOOC^S.

S

HUT not so soon ; the duU-ey'd night Ha's not as yet begunne To make a seisure on the light, Or to seale up the Sun.

No Marigolds yet closed are ;

No shadowes great appeare ; Nor doth the early Shepheards Starre

Shine like a spangle here.

Stay but till my Juh'a close

Her life-begetting eye ; And let the whole world then dispose

It selfe to live or dye.

53

FoATiWSLL FTipST Oil WQLCOmG TH& SV^IT^G.

"W ^LST) are the Frosts, and now the Fields appeare Ml Re-cloth'd in fresh and verdant Diaper.

Thaw'd are the snowes, and now the lusty Spring Gives to each Mead a neat enameling. The Palms put forth their Gemmes, and every Tree Now swaggers in her Leavy gallantry. The while the T)aultan cMinstrell sweetly sings, With warbling Notes, her Tyrrean sufferings. What gentle Winds perspire ? As if here Never had been the V^orthern Tlunderer To strip the Trees, and Fields, to their distresse. Leaving them to a pittied nakednesse. And look how when a frantick Storme doth tear A stubborn Oake, or Holme (long growing there) But lul'd to cahnnesse, then succeeds a breeze That scarcely stirs the nodding leaves of Trees : So when this War (which tempest-like doth spoil Our salt, our Com, our Honie, Wine, and Oile) Falls to a temper, and doth mildly cast His inconsiderate Frenzie off (at last) The gentle Dove may, when these turmoils cease, Bring in her Bill, once more, the 'branch n/Teace.

r

TO cM6T>'D0WSS

6 have been fresh and green,

Ye have been fill'd with flowers : And ye the Walks have been

Where maids have spent their houres.

You

54

Y' ^^tt* >fn frciTi Ani gr^^n

■ye Kan*^ b*fn frll'i -wjih. fP*«V^' Aivi J-c -the ■*r&l^-' Iiam*^ I>een.

WX*!-* jnuiJ- JxA«.e Vfit th^jr A"

WjtK -wi'K't Arftj- did "w*

And /"n. fK«S,v in « r-vn T,A'h airfin,JO<= a ffn

■>n?.

^Wvor= fil'urie f«et did ire*d. And '«'iiK difKeu=JJ'd Ktire. AdTn'd thi/ fjiio*i}^r meftd.

Lik* vnthrift^. JtAuinj ij>«nt "^vr* fto=K, And. J^''^^ JrVn.

You have beheld, how they

With Wtc^er oArks did come

To kisse, and beare away

The richer Couslips home.

Y'ave heard them sweetly sing, And see them in a Round :

Each Virgin, like a Spring,

With Honv-succles crown'd.

But now, we see, none here.

Whose silv'rie feet did tread,

And with dishevell'd Haire,

Adorn'd this smoother Mead.

Like Unthrifts, having spent.

Your stock, and needy gown,

Y'are left here to lament

Your poore estates, alone.

TO TH6, liPSS. SOT^G.

^^~yOS happy Rose, and enterwove ■ 'W' With other Flowers, bind my Love. ^y Tell her too, she must not be,

Longer flowing, longer free,

That so oft has fetter'd me.

Say (if she's fretfull) I have bands

Of Pearle, and Gold, to bind her hands :

Tell her, if she struggle still,

I have Mirtle rods, (at will)

For to tame, though not to kill.

Take 57

Take thou my blessing, thus, and goe, And tell her this, but doe not so, Lest a handsome anger flye. Like a Lightning, from her eye, And burn thee'up, as well as L

TO TH6> WGST&T<p<i WIT^T).

S

W&QT Western Wind, whose luck it is, (Made rivall with the aire) To give 'Terennds lip a kisse. And fan her wanton haire.

Bring me but one. He promise thee, Instead of common showers,

Thy wings shall be embalm'd by me, And all beset with flowers.

HIS C(:AVQALm%

^^rOS, me that man, th-at dares bestride m IT The active Sea-horse, y with pride,

^ Through that hugh field of waters ride: Who, with his looks too, can appease The ruffling winds and raging Seas, In mid'st of all their outrages. This, this a virtuous man can doe, Saile against Rocks, and split them too ; I ! and a world of Pikes passe through.

58

Hi^^ C2x.ualier

Gj.ir

Th.e aL-^tiue oT^a-Korfe £j- VkK pride ' Thr'^vgK ih^t hvge field of Wi^r^ rict^- NVh.o, wiih Kij- looitj- too c^lr ^ppe^fc

la mid'fi q°aJl iheir Ovtrag^/^ ^ f^.

This, thij- <5L ulrivovj- y^^n ^s^a doe ^yi^^iie ev^gstiuffPocv^ ^rid: fpui th.em too; If sends. Worlch-^f plK^j- pa,fj-e. iriTOvg'h.

C&T{&m07<imS FOTi^ CHTilSTdMcASSS.

f' OdM6, bring with a noise, ^-^ My merrie merrie boyes, The Christmas Log to the firing ; While my good Dame, she, Bids ye all be free ; And drink to your hearts desiring.

With the last yeeres brand

Light the new block. And For good successe m his spending.

On your Psaltries play.

That sweet luck may Come while the Log is a teending.

Drink now the strong Beere,

Cut the white loafe here, The while the meat is a shredding ;

For the rare Mince-Pie

And the Plums stand by To fill the Paste that's a kneading.

TH6 CGTiGMONIGS F0% CcAN'DL&moASSS, DAY.

K

IC\T)LS the Christmas Brand and then Till Sunne-set, let it burne ; Which quencht, then lay it up agen. Till Christmas next returne.

Part must be kept wherewith to teend The Christmas Log next yeare ;

And where 'tis safely kept, the Fiend, Can do no mischiefe (there.)

61

HIS T06TTiI6 HIS TILLcA%

0CP^6LY a little more I have to write, Then He give o're, And bid the world Good-night.

'Tis but a flying minute, That I must stay, Or linger in it ;

And then I must away.

O time that cut'st down all !

And scarce leav'st here

Memoriall Of any men that were.

How many lye forgot

In Vaults beneath ? And piece-meale rot

Without a fame in death ?

Behold this living stone, I reare for me, Ne'r to be thrown

Downe, envious Time by thee.

Pillars let some set up, (If so they please) Here is my hope,

And my Tyramides.

62

%^-

TK'a III Jiu' °iT V\ni kid (li« w'YU jo'tiiiigh-

TlV tv( a flying minvte

Or iing'r in ii ^nd ilifn I mvfi. iwi/

O Tnn' ihil 'vift (fwn «.ll <^.r.i f'a.T« i'iuft h^r'

of any pi'n that, «'r'

hiV Plllfl)

H°w many \y' forj** In ua.vllJ' !>'ii<illh. 5\jid pit«m'Al' r°t . ViUiOvt a K»i« in d<iJh.

,B"'h°Ia IhiJ- 'iuinj fion'i

I r'Ai' for .m'.

N«r 1° bt \hr°vn j)uvp enuiovy Tim* Jjy' th*^^

Pillarj- 1=1 f°m« f«i vp If f" ihfy fl'Afe ■li'r' // my hop* ^d my pyrnmidv

qA T&TiP<iQATiI& OF LITTL&S, UTO^ cA "PITKIU^ OF J&LLI& S&U^T TO oA LqAT> Y.

^

Little Saint best fits a little Shrine, A little prop best fits a little Vine, As my small Cruse best fits my little Wine.

A little Seed best fits a little Soyle, A little Trade best fits a little Toyle : As my small Jarre best fits my little Oyle.

A little Bin best fits a little Bread, A little Garland fits a little Head : As my small stufFe best fits my little Shed.

A little Hearth best fits a little Fire,

A little Chappell fits a little Quire,

As my small Bell best fits my little Spire.

A little streame best fits a little Boat ;

A little lead best fits a little Float ;

As my small Pipe best fits my little note.

A little meat best fits a little bellie.

As sweetly Lady, give me leave to tell ye,

This little Pipkin fits this little Jellie.

cA m&'DnQATlOV^ FOTi HIS dMIST1{6SSS.

T

OU are a Tulip seen to day.

But (Dearest) of so short a stay ;

That where you grew, scarce man can say.

You 65

You are a lovely July-flower,

Yet one rude wind, or ruffling shower,

Will force you hence, (and in an houre.)

You are a sparkling '^se i'th'bud. Yet lost, ere that chast flesh and blood Can shew where vou or grew, or stood.

You are a full-spread faire-set Vine, And can with Tendrills love intwine, Yet dry'd, ere you distill your Wine.

You are like Balme inclosed (well) In oAmber, or some Chry stall shell, Yet lost ere you transfuse your smell.

You are a dainty 'Violet,

Yet wither'd, ere you can be set

Within the Virgin's Coronet.

You are the Queen all flowers among, But die you must (faire Maid) ere long, As He, the maker of this Song.

L

TO 'B(S ^M^'RyC^.

€TS now take our time ; While w'are in our Prime; And old, old Age is a farre off : For the evill evill dayes Will come on apace ; Before we can be aware of.

66

COTil^^QC^QcA'S GOIT^G oA <£MQAY17HiG.

y^^&T up, get up for shame, the Blooming Morne m TT Upon her wings presents the god unshorne. ^y See how oAurora throwes her faire

Fresh-quiked colours through the aire : Get up, sweet-Slug-a-bed, and see The Dew-bespangling Herbe and Tree. Each Flower has wept, and bow'd toward the East, Above an houre since ; yet you not drest, Nay ! not so much as out of bed ? When all the Birds have Mattens seyd, And sung their thankfuU Hymnes : 'tis sin.

69

Nay,

Nay, profanation to keep in, When as a thousand Virgins on this day. Spring, sooner than the Lark, to fetch in May.

71

Rise ;

Rise ; and put on your Foliage, and be scene

To come forth, like the Spring-time, fresh and greene ;

And sweet as Flora. Take no care

For Jewels for your Gowne, or Haire :

Feare not ; the leaves will strew

Gemms in abundance upon you : Besides, the childhood of the Day has kept, Against you come, some Orient Pearls unwept :

Come, and receive them while the light

Hangs on the Dew-locks of the night :

And Titan on the Eastern hill

Retires himselfe, or else stands still Till you come forth. Wash, dresse, be briefe in praymg Few Beads are best, when once we goe a Maying.

11

Come,

^r

d

Come, my Corinna, come ; and coming, marke

How each field turns a street ; each street a Parke Made green, and trimm'd with trees : see how Devotion gives each House a Bough, Or Branch : Each Porch, each doore, ere this An Arke a Tabernacle is

Made up of white-thorn neatly enterwove ;

As if here were those cooler shades of love. Can such delights be in the street. And open fields, and we not see't ? Come, we'll abroad ; and let's obay The Proclamation made for May :

And sin no more, as we have done, by staying ;

But my CorinnUy come, let's goe a Maying.

75

There's

There's not a budding Boy, or Girle, this day, But is got up, and gone to bring in May. A deale of Youth, ere this, is come Back, with White-thorn laden home. Some have dispatcht their Cakes and Creame, Before that we have left to dreame : And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted Troth, And chose their Priest, ere we can cast off sloth • Many a green-gown has been given ; Manv a kisse, both odde and even : Many a glance too has been sent From out the eye. Loves Firmament : Many a jest told of the Keyes betraying This night, and Locks pickt, yet w'are not a Maying.

Come,

n

Come, let us goe, while we are in our prime ; And take the harmlesse follie of the time.

We shall grow old apace, and die

Before we know our liberty.

Our life is short ; and our dayes run

As fast away as do's the Sunne : And as a vapour, or a drop of raine Once lost, can ne'r be found againe :

So when or vou or I are made

A fable, song, or fleeting shade ;

All love, all liking, all delight

Lies drown'd with us in endlesse night. Then while time serves, and we are but decaying ; Come, my Corinna, come, let's goe a Maying.

79

THQ mcAT> moAIDS SOUHiG.

Q

001) morrow to the Day so fair ; Good morning Sir to you : Good morrow to mine own torn hair Bedabled with the dew.

Good morning to this Prim-rose too ;

Good morrow to each maid ; That will with flowers the Tomb bestrew,

Wherein my Love is laid.

Ah woe is me, woe, woe is me,

Alack and welladay ! For pitty, Sir, find out that Bee,

Which bore mv Love awav.

rie seek him in your bonnet brave ;

He seek him in your eyes ; Nay, now I think th'ave made his grave

I'th'bed of strawburies.

He seek him there ; I know, ere this^

The cold, cold Earth doth shake him ; But I will go, or send a kisse By you, Sir, to awake him.

Pray hurt him not ; though he be dead, He knowes well who do love him.

And who with green-turfes reare his head, And who do rudelv move him.

He's soft and tender (Pray take heed) With bands of Cow-slips bind him ;

And bring him home, but 'tis decreed, That I shall never find him.

«o

j^^nrmv^^c^j- ^o^a^

'^V

t t

•

qA "BUCOLICK "B&TWIXT TWO: Lacon and Thvrsis.

Lacon.

Thyr.

Thyr.

i

F

*0'?^a kiss or two, confesse, What doth cause this pensiveness ? Thou most lovely Neat-heardesse : Why so lonely on the hill ? Why thy pipe by thee so still, That ere while was heard so shrill ?

Tell me, do thy kine now fail

To fulfill the milkin-paile ?

Sav, what is't that thou do'st aile ?

None of these ; but out, alas ! A mischance is come to pass. And rie tell thee what it was : See mine eyes are weeping ripe, Lacon. Tell, and I'le lay down my Pipe.

I have lost my lovely steere. That to me was far more deer Then these kine, which I milke here. Board of fore-head, large of eye, Party colour'd like a Pie ; Smooth in each limb as a die ; Clear of hoof, and clear of horn ; Sharply pointed as a thorn : With a neck by yoke unworn. From the which hung down by strings, Balls of Cowslips, Daisie rings, Enterplac't with ribbanings. Faultless every way for shape ; Not a straw co'd him escape ; Ever gamesome as an ape :

83

But

Lacon.

But yet harmless as a sheep.

(Pardon, Lacon if I weep)

Tears will spring, where woes are deep.

Now (ai me) (ai me.) Last night

Came a mad dog, and did bite,

I, and kil'd my dear delight.

Lacon. Alack for grief ! Thyr. But Tie be brief,

Hence I must, for time doth call Me, and my sad Play-mates all, To his Ev'ning Funeral!. Live long, Lacon, so adew. Mournful maid farewell to you ; S>arth afford ye flowers to strew.

TH6. ToATiC^, or, THTi&& D^IU^TY D&STIU^I&S .

THS qA'K^IILST.

rH1{66 lovely Sisters working were (As they were closely set) Of soft and daintv Maiden-haire, A curious oArmclet. I smiling, ask'd them what thev did ?

(Faire T)cstinies all three) Who told me, thev had drawn a thred

of Life, and 'twas for me. They shew'd me then, how fine 'twas spun ;

And I replv'd thereto, I care not now how soone 'tis done. Or cut, if cut by you.

84

ttL^ Tar-^df, "r , TJ(J« ])ainii<= Jl^ftini^j- TJ^^^^T-m^'Jet

l„

(; '^f foft and daiinty /*\^ide)l-l^.a.lr<-

>j,^ A "^vfiovj' ArnitleL \=^-

>, , I fmilinge- a,f KM tlifm wKcvi ih^y did

>;' v^^ \fh° loldme (hey had drawn a. llvr^4 "■^^ ^^ ; ^i Lif*- a.i'A 'twa,r for mt- ,

/''"^V TA«y f howcl M* tVn. Jiow fine Wir ftvn

Of «vt , if cvt by ^"v.

TH& WILLOW GdATiLcA^Nil).

a.

Willow Garland thou did'st send

Perfum'd (last day) to me : Which did but only this portend, I was forsooke bv thee.

Since so it is ; He tell thee what, To morrow thou shalt see

Me weare the Willow ; after that, To dve upon the Tree.

As Beasts unto the Altars go

With Garlands drest, so I

Will, with my Willow-wreath also, Come forth and sweetlv dve.

UTOC\ SMTiS. &LIZ: WH66LS% UJ^T)Q% TH6 T^cAcMS OF qA<£MqAT{ILLIS.

SWS6T oAmarillis^ by a Spring's Soft and soule-melting murmurings, Slept ; and thus sleeping, thither flew A Ti^bin-'^ed brest ; who at view, Not seeing her at all to stir, Brought leaves and mosse to cover her : But while he, perking, there did prie About the Arch of either eye ; The lid began to let out day ; At which poore 'Kobin flew amay : And seeing her not dead, but all disleav'd ; He chirpt for joy, to see himself disceav'd.

87

qA "DIqALOGUG "BQTWIXT HIdMSSLF6 (:A7<i'D

qMISTT{&SS& &LIZqA: WH&&L&% UC^fDSTi

TH6 C^C^SM6 OF oAmcATilLLIS

JH

Y dearest Love, since thou wilt go, And leave me here behind thee ;

For love or pitie let me know

The place where I may find thee.

oAmaril. In country Meadowes pearl'd with Dew, And set about with Lillies ; There filling Maunds with Cowslips, you May find your oAmarillis.

Her. What have the Meades to do with thee,

Or with thy youthful! houres ? Live thou at Court, where thou mayst be The Queen of men, not flowers.

Let Country wenches make'em fine With Posies, since 'tis fitter

For thee with richest Jemmes to shine, And like the Starres to glitter.

oAmaril. You set too high a rate upon

A Shepheardess so homely ;

Her. Believe it (dearest) ther's not one

I'th' Court that's halfe so comly.

I prithee stay. foAm.J I must away, Lets kiss first, then we'l sever. cAmbo. And though we bid adieu to day. Wee shall not part for ever.

88

e A ffi

t^ ^ o <a ^~

TAj^ dfa.-r«fl I°«.«,' fi-^''° 1^°-' *i"- S° Tjl^ pla^*- wh'T' 2 m^y ftnd. tn««-

In <^°vnu-y m«a.dP-»-«J- pea-Tl'd wJtK de*.

T}l'r«- flllinS^e JiiA.vndJ- with =°«rfli});-, 71?.>- fina y''vr S\7na.Tini>r.

What Kau* I'W' m^adv t» d" ■j-ofti lh«|

T>^^ covn-f.l-J' "'^•^'^h?-'' jnaK* "em fin' Wni like ^ ftAfr^r t° g'Hti«'r.

V<»Y !«•* -too Jii§K a. TAte vjj'/i

I'fh." '^''^■r* *'^*'-^ ^"^^^^ ^° '""'"i/

J/i./ K)i/-*^ fir A ^?ji -9<^'J K^'j"

And. '.h°' ^* iiid enUv I'd*!'

e-AAbbty stp II iCTo— ^1

WHY FLOW&T^S CHcJC\^G6 COLOUT^S.

rHSSS fresh beauties (we can prove) Once were Virgins sick of love, Turn'd to Flowers. Still in some Colours goe, and colours come.

/ Cc^LL qAU^T> I CoALL.

/Call, I call, who doe ye call ? The Maids to catch this Cowslip-ball But since these Cowslips fading be, Troth, leave the flowers, and Maids, take me. Yet, if that neither you will doe. Speak but the word, and lie take you.

91

1H& OUD WIV&S T'KqAYG'K,

Y TOL Y-Ti001) come forth and shield /~T Us i'th'Citie, and the Field : Safely guard us, now and aye,

From the blast that burns by day ;

And those sounds that us affright.

In -the dead of dampish night

Drive all hurtfull Feinds us fro.

By the Time the Cocks first crow.

/'^~^0'pr5\] with the Rosemary, and so k I t Down with the Bales, Jff mistletoe :

Down with the Holly, Ivie, all, Wherewith ye drest the Christmas Hall : That so the superstitious find No one least Branch there left behind : For look how many leaves there be Neglected there (maids trust to me) So many Goblins you shall see.

CH1{ISTdMcJS-6V6, cAT^OTH&Tl CS1{6^M0CXIS.

C

OdM6 guard this night the Christmas-Pie, That the Thiefe, though ne'r so slie, With his Flesh-hooks, don't come nie

To catch it

From him, who all alone sits there, Having his eyes still in his eare, And a deale of nightly feare

To watch it.

92

^^^9^

)''=n- Kur. , WKo -xH al°rv'' fit/ ©O^-i-

'ISEE';

U-;„;.:.^.,.i„

* < r

e ■ •

vpON • '

EVE

.

J

"BY WHICH SOm&Tim&S H& LIV&D.

y^n^&oAU^-'BOU'Rp^, farewell ; I never look to see k # B T>eane, or thy warty incivility.

Thy rockie bottome, that doth teare thy streams, And makes them frantick, ev'n to all extreames ; To my content, I never sho'd behold, Were thy streames silver, or thy rocks all gold. Rockie thou art ; and rockie we discover Thy men ; and rockie are thy wayes all over. O men, O manners ; Now, and ever knowne To be qA T^ckie Generation / A people currish ; churlish as the seas ; And rude (almost) as rudest Salvages. With whom I did, and may re-sojourne when Rockes turn to Rivers, Rivers turn to Men.

97

TO HIS ^MqAIT> TliSW.

rHQSQ Summer-'^irds did with thy Master stay The times of warmth ; but then they flew away ; Leaving their Poet (being now grown old) Expos'd to all the comming Winters cold. But thou kind T^rew did'st with my Fates abide, As well the Winters, as the Summers Tide : For which thy Love, live with thy Master here, Not two, but all the seasons of the yeare.

HSIi. SICIOKSSSS.

/^T^TiJjQ, my dearest Maid, is sick, • M"^ Almost to a Lunatick :

^sculapius I come and bring Means for her recovering ; And a gallant Cock shall be Offer'd up by Her, to Thee.

VPOU^ T%§> W HIS eMcAIT).

/^ this little Urne is laid Trewdence 'Baldwin (once my maid) From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple Violet.

98

•T° y^-j- /^&-y^^ Vr^-^

i3v«f« {vmnEr-tifdJ' did -wiQi t>iy waft^r fCa.y Ths tiraej* of ■•^AVmih. i hv< <3i«H iKey fie-w siwa-y; L^auinj- ftl«ir Jjoet . 'being n°-<n gT°-vn oJd ^ "^JK.

Exjiof'd to A)! the <^°JT>7Tiin§ winter-r "^oJd 3v( th.ov, Kini Pr^w, diiiH wOi my fa.tV atbide

T°r -wKioJi »hy lov.e., liix.e ^wi^ -eh/ maft^r Iv«re R- H^rri <^K

IMot. two fovt alt the feiJ^onj- of t^e y«iire-

TO 'PT{I<zMT{OS&S FILLT> WITH qMOT<^IU^G

"DQW.

Cf ^ \HY doe ye weep, sweet Babes ? can Tears LSI) Speak griefe in you,

Who were but borne Just as the modest Morne Teem'd her refreshing dew ? Alas you have not known that shower, That marres a flower ; Nor felt th'unkind Breath of a blasting wind ; Nor are ye worne with yeares ;

Or warpt, as we, Who think it strange to see, Such pretty flowers, (Hke to Orphans young) To speak by Teares, before ye have a Tongue.

Speak, whimp'ring Younglings, and make known The reason, why Ye droop, and weep ; Is it for want of sleep ? Or childish LuUabie ; Or that ye have not seen as yet The 'Violet f Or brought a kisse From that Sweet-heart, to this ? No, no, this sorrow shown By your teares shed, Wo'd have this Lecture read, That things of greatest, so of meanest worth, Conceiv'd with grief are, and with teares brought forth.

lOI

w

TO VI0L6TS.

&LCOm& Maids of Honour, You doe bring In the Spring ; And wait upon her.

She has Virgins many, Fresh and faire ; Yet you are

More sweet then any.

Y'are the Maiden Posies, And so grac't. To be plac't,

'Fore Damask Roses.

Yet though thus respected,

By and by

Ye doe lie, Poore Girles, neglected.

/

UTOUHi L0V6.

HSUD Love's head while it did ake ;

But so it chanc't to be ; The cruell paine did his forsake. And forthwith came to me.

Ai me ! How shal my griefe be stil'd ?

Or where else shall we find One like to me, who must be kill'd

For being too — too — kind ?

I02

f

u!2SKQ me why I send you here This sweet Infanta of the yeere ?

Aske me why I send to you This Primrose, thus bepearl'd with dew ?

I will whisper to your eares, The sweets of Love are mixt with tears.

Ask me why this flower do's show So yellow-green, and sickly too ?

Ask me why the stalk is weak And bending, (yet it doth not break ?

I will answer. These discover What fainting hopes are in a Lover.

TO qMISTT(&SSG KdATHGTil^NiG 'BT^'DSHcAW.

THS L0V6LY, THcAT CTipWC\_6T)

HIdM WITH LqAUH^L.

It /JT Y Muse in Meads has spent her many houres, m y f m Sitting, and sorting severall sorts of flowers,

To make for others garlands ; and to set On many a head here, many a Coronet : But, amongst All encircled here, not one Gave her a day of Coronation ; Till you (sweet Mistresse) came and enterwove A Laurel for her, (ever young as love) You first of all crown'd her ; she must of due, Render for that, a crowne of life to vou.

105

qA Z)0W to Z>SC^QUS.

H

c^'P'P/Zrihadasight Of my dearest deare last night; Make her this day smile on me, And He Roses give to thee.

VPO:?^ dMIST1l€SS€ SUScAC^^T^Qj SOUTHW&LL H&%_ CH6SKS.

(R

oATiQ are thy cheeks Susanna, which do show Ripe Cherries smiling, while that others blow.

UTOCX H&%_ S Y&S.

^^L&&%§, are her eyes,

^^ Like purest Skies. Discovering from thence

A Babie there

That turns each Sphere, Like an Intelligence.

VPOU^ HGTl F&&T.

ILT STi^pretty feet ^ -^ Like snailes did creep A little out, and then, As if thev played at Bo-peep, Did soon draw in agen.

1 06

V]bOn,./\-iftr*fj-e • Jvfannsi. • JOvthNce]] ■ h^r ■^Xg'jt

T^r= are thy ^}S^H-r ^viknnA. ■vhi'^h dp Ihe-wr Jfipe *5i«Tri'-r fmijing while tKa.t "Oyrj- W"^

<-^l«i-e a.Te Ttfr «'iex I,i3te ^vr*ft flUV

']iJ--'->i>^

/f

''(^.\, JVpon h'r T^^t 9^. ]ml« °vt, afici th^iv

Did i°°n. drd.w in Ag*?^

HOW "P^TeM'liOSSS CcAdMQ G1i€67^.

V

I'J^GIUSiS, time-past, known were these,

Troubled with Green-sicknesses, ■ Turn'd to flowers : Stil the hieu, Sicklv Girles, thev beare of vou.

109

qA CqAU^TICLQ to iA'POLLO.

<p

LcA Y Thmbus on thy Lute ; And we will, all sit mute : By listning to thy Lire, That sets all eares on fire.

Hark, harke, the God do's play ! And as he leads the way Through heaven, the very Spheres, As men, turne all to eares.

S

UTOU^ JULIdAS VOICS.

O smooth, so sweet, so silv'ry is thy voice.

As, could they hear, the Damn'd would make no noise. But listen to thee, (walking in thy chamber) Melting melodious words, to Lutes of Amber.

oAU^OTH&Ti^ U'POT^H&Tl W&G'PIT^G.

S

H6 by the River sate, and sitting there. She wept, and made it deeper by a teare.

no

p]\e by -Oie Riufr 'fa.te ^ fitting -Ch^rt

/

70 &L&CT%qA.

dare not ask a kisse ;

I dare not beg a smile ; Lest having that, or this,

I might grow proud the while.

r

No, no, the utmost share Of my desire, shall be

Onely to kisse that Aire, That lately kissed thee.

0C\ LOVS>,

LOZ)€ bade me aske a gift, And I no more did move, But this, that I might shift Still with my clothes, my Love That favour granted was ;

Since which, though I love many, Yet so it comes to passe, That long I love not any.

U'POUSi HimS&LF.

HOU shalt not All die ; for while Love's fire shines Upon his Altar, men shall read thy lines ; And learn'd Musicians shall to honour Herricks Fame, and his Name, both set and sing his Lyricks.

"3

TH& %ciAI7^'B0W: OT<^CUT{IOUS C OV^T^qAT^T .

It /JT IU^& eyes, like clouds, were drizling raine m y f i And as they thus did entertaine

The gentle Beams from Julia?, sight To mine eyes level'd opposite : O Thing admir'd ! there did appeare A curious Rainbow smiling there ; Which was the Covenant, that she No more wo'd drown mine eyes, or me.

THG, "BTiciAC&L&T TO JULIoA.

Cf ^ \HY I tye about thy wrist, ij^/ Julia^ this my silken twist For what other reason is't, But to shew thee how in part. Thou my pretty Captive art ? But thv Bondslave is mv heart : 'Tis but silke that bindeth thee, Knap the thread, and thou art free : But 'tis otherwise with me ; I am bound, and fast bound so. That from thee I cannot go ; If I co'd, I wo'd not so.

0

THG TiOScATilE.

I7\^<S ask'd me where the Roses grew ? I bade him not goe seek ; But forthwith bade my Julia shew A bud in either cheek.

114

Th? B'-a"'!"! ♦" H'*"

SO:?<iG. HIS miSTRIS TO HIeM oAT HIS

FqAT^'&LL.

rOU mav vow He not forgett To pay the debt, Which to thy Memorie stands as due As faith can seale It you Take then tribute of my teares

So long as I have feares To prompt mee, I shall euer Languish and looke but thy returne see neuer Oh then to lessen my dispaire Print thy lips Into the ayre So by this Meanes I may kisse thy kisse when as some kinde winde Shall hither waft it and In Hew My lipps shall send a looo back to you.

Ro : herrick.

HIS Ti&QUQST TO JULIoA

/VLIqA, if I chance to die Ere I print my Poetry ; I most humblv thee desire To commit it to the fire : Better 'twere my Book were dead, Then to live not perfected.

117

UTOT^ HIS KIUX,SW0dMcJ:7^ dMISTRIS &LIZqA'B&TH H&T<T{ICK.

SWS6T virgin, that I do not set The pillars up of weeping yef, Or mournfull oMarble ; let thy shade Not wrathfull seem, or fright the Maide, Who hither at her wonted howers Shall come to strew thy earth with flowers. No, know (Blest Maide) when there's not one Remainder left of Brasse or stone, Thy living Epitaph shall be, Though lost in them, yet found in me. Dear, in thy bed of 1{pses, then, Till this world shall dissolve as men, Sleep, while we hide thee from the light. Drawing thy curtains round : Good night.

^

cAU^TH&qA'S "BSTTioACTIOU^.

^U^THSqA laught, and fearing lest pxcesse Might stretch the cords of civill comelinesse: She with a dainty blush rebuk't her face ; And cal'd each line back to his rule and space.

TO oAT^iTH&cA.

SICK is oAnthea, sickly is the spring, : The Primrose sick, and sickly every thing : The while my deer oAnthea do's but droop, The Tulips^ Lilltes, T)affadtlls do stoop ; But when again sh'as got her healthfuU houre. Each bending then, will rise a proper flower.

ii8

I

Ji'h (X AntK'A i"i''JiJy 1^ the Jfrmg Th« while my d«<»- 5\m)\'i dov bvt droop

Bvt ^h.n fcj^in. /h'*r g»t Kr^ hf^JthfvJl h'^-vrC

TH& WqAKQ.

^^OqMS oAnthea let us two f / Go to Feast, as others do.

Tarts and Custards, Creams and Cakes, Are the Junketts still at Wakes : Unto which the Tribes resort. Where the businesse is the sport : Morris-dancers thou shalt see, Marian too in Pagentrie : And a Mimick to devise Many grinning properties. Players there will be, and those Base in action as in clothes : Yet with strutting they will please The incurious Villages. Neer the dying of the day, There will be a Cudgell-Vlay, Where a Coxcomb will be broke, Ere a good word can be spoke : But the anger ends all here, Drencht in Ale, or drown'd in Beere. Happy Rusticks, best content With the cheapest Merriment : And possesse no other feare, Then to want the Wake next Yeare.

UTOUX. ^MUCH-oMOTiG. &TIG.

M

UCH-MOT{§,, provides, and hoords up like an Ant; Yet oMuch-more still complains he is in want. Let oMuch-more justly pay his tythes; then tr)' How both his Meale and Oile will multiply.

121

TO JULI(yl.

/^I \S%£MIT me, Ju/t'a, now to goe away ; ^ y"^ Or by thy love, decree me here to stay.

If thou wilt say, that I shall live with thee ; Here shall my endless Tabernacle be : If not, (as banisht) I will live alone There, where no langnage ever yet was known.

THS C^^IGHT-TISCE, TO JULIoA.

'Y' jf^ST^Eyes the Glow-worme lend thee, / / The Shooting Starres attend thee ; And the Elves also, Whose little eyes glow. Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

No Wtll-o'th'- Wtspe mis-light thee ; Nor Snake, or Slow-worme bite thee :

But on, on thy way

Not making a stay, Since Ghost ther's none to affright thee.

Let not the darke thee cumber ; What though the Moon do's slumber ?

The Starres of the night

Will lend thee their light, Like Tapers cleare without number.

Then Julia let me wooe thee, Thus, thus to come unto me :

And when I shall meet

Thy silv'rv feet. My soule He poure into thee.

122

w^mm'
'^^^SF^				' ^'Jf^^^^^^^^K
W^'	: ; ■ '^	; • ii.'l		i'.S'i|t:^^^^^^l
mil	wm	fefi	^.
^^Hf i ^	^- V ''		^1
"-= — "^ — ^^i^-ss.	mmmm	r^'i	»/'"^r2	■ \^flH
J^ ¥	^^	R^"'^^	IHffi'
~' • n^'	k^^^^	^Jjj	••■ /i		HMr
^ /'d#'^	B&liik^ ■	jr 1?	Ti^J	r' '	'^mui
	S^Bi^^Hv^ -
	r	■^;"."~^"'!! .-L^- '^
^^<rrmmA				r;.\ At,),!/ ,^^, ,
r^ ''■'^m^^^^^

The Night- p'^^^ to Jvjja.

Wh»/' JifU' f;"j- eJ"*

r ''

3vt t-n . °ji thy Mvi^ N°t mRKJng ft /tA^ '" <ihoft \\\'i'j- n°n« 1° Aftn^ht tWt

l5^ T\«t \hf ClATk«- aW^ ^VTt^fc^^■

. lYf /ta.TrV- o/ ih' night Vll) JCncl tKee difir JjPhc ilk* ts.J>«r^ '^]''aT« •»;ih''vt nvji.b'r

TKctx JvJia. I'e mr -woo* ^K'* Thv^, ihv/- 1° «°m« vne" thct

/\v fOvl<; J'|e p°vr'' into (h't

UT07<i THQ LOSSS OF HIS dMIST%6SS€S.

/Have lost, and lately, these Many dainty Mistresses : Stately Jiilia^ prime of all ; Sapho next, a principall : Smooth oAiithea, for a skin White, and Heaven-like Chrystalline : Sweet Plectra, and the choice cMyrha, for the Lute, and Voice. Next, Corinna, for her wit. And the graceful use of it : With Terilla : All are gone : Onelv Herrick's left alone, For to number sorrow by Their departures hence, and die.

TO TH& 1i€VGT{GC\fD SHcAT>6 OF HIS %&LIGIOUS FcA7H&%

rHcAT for seven Lttsters I did never come To doe the liites to thy Religious Tombe : That neither haire was cut, or true teares shed By me, o'r thee, (asjustmenis to the dead) Forgive, forgive me ; since I did not know Whether thy bones had here their Rest, or no. But now 'tis known, Behold ; behold, I bring Unto thy Ghost, th'Effused Offering : And look, what Smallage, Night-shade, Cypresse, Yew, Unto the shades have been, or now are due, Here I devote ; And something more then so ;

I

Q 125

I come to pay a Debt of Birth I owe.

Thou gav'st me life, (but Mortall ;) For that one

Favour, He make a full satisfaction ;

For my life mortall, Rise from out thv Herse,

And take a life immortall from mv Verse.

TO L(iAU%&LS.

./Z Funerall stone, Or Verse I covet none ; But onely crave Of you that I may have A sacred Laurel springing from my grave Which being seen. Blest with perpetuall greene.

May grow to be Not so much call'd a tree. As the eternall monument of me.

126

Q

TO THG LqA%K.

00T> speed, for I this day Betimes mv Mattens say : Because I doe Begin to wooe : Sweet singing Lark, Be thou the Clark, And know thy when To sav, oAmen. And if I prove Blest in mv love : Then thou shalt be High-Priest to me, At mv returne, To Incense burne ;

And so to solemnize

Love's, and mv Sacrifice.

TH& FcAITimS.

/F ye will with oMab find grace, Set each Platter in his place : Rake the Fier up, and get Water in, ere Sun be set. Wash your Pailes, and dense your Dairies Sluts are loathsome to the Fairies : Sweep your house : Who doth not so, (£Ma/) will pinch her by the toe.

127

(B

CHcAT<mS.

TiJC^G the holy crust of Bread, Lay it underneath the head ; 'Tis a certain charm to keep Hags away, while Children sleep.

W

qASSqAILG the Trees, that they may beare You many a Plum, and many a Peare : For more or lesse fruits they will bring. As you doe give them Wassailing.

UTO:^ T&qASOU^. Q'PIG.

LOT^G Locks of late our Zelot Teason weares, Not for to hide his high and mighty eares ; No, but because he wo'd not have it seen, That Stubble stands, where once large eares have been.

UTOUSi cA^ OLT) WO<PiI(iAC\.

OUD widdow Trouse to do her neighbours evill Wo'd give (some say) her soule unto the Devill. Well, when sh'as kild, that Pig, Goose, Cock or Hen, What wo'd she give to get that soule agen ?

128

IM"/;^.

^ S\K ^J) ^K'P/^K

eu.i7L

S-(,a-'cl givLC fojixe fo-V h-<=r /J'vJ vjrto y

^^i^ej] ^i,en rhV.r KiVdL ths^t }=i§§"^

What woJl fhe pu^ 1° ^H -fhat fov]t

J^b: Hficri'^JtC .

TWSLF6 U^IGHT, or KIU^G oA^Ni^D QUSSCX^.

/\/0W, now the mirth comes ^-^ ' With the cake full of plums,

Where Beane's the King of the sport here ; Beside we must know, The Pea also

Must revell, as Qjieene, in the Court here.

Begin then to chuse,

(This night as ye use) Who shall for the present delight here,

Be a King by the lot,

And who shall not Be Twelfe-day Qiieene for the night here.

Which knowne, let us make,

Joy-sops with the cake ; And let not a man then be seen here,

Who unurg'd will not drinke

To the base from the brink A health to the King and the Queene here.

Next crowne the bowle full

With gentle lambs-wooU ; Adde sugar, nutmeg and ginger.

With store of ale too ;

And thus ye must doe To make the wassaile a swinger.

Give then to the King

And Queene w^assailing ; And though with ale ye be whet here ;

Yet part ye from hence.

As free from offence, As when ve innocent met here.

131

C0USiT&7<iT, U^OT CcATGS.

(^ B '/S not the food, but the content m That makes the Tables merriment.

Where Trouble serves the board, we eate The Platters there, as soone as meat, A little Pipkin with a bit Of Mutton, or of Veale in it, Set on my Table, (Trouble-free) More then a Feast contenteth me.

S

JcACK QA:NiT) JILL.

1USIC& Jack and Jill both wicked be ; It seems a wonder unto me, That thev no better do agree.

HIS CO^FOTiJ.

rIIS> only comfort of my life Is that I never yet had wife ; Nor will hereafter ; since I know Who Weds, ore-buves his weal with woe.

rcA'P (better known than trusted) as we heare Sold his old Mothers Spectacles for Beere ; And not unlikely ; rather too then fail, He'l sell her Eves, and Nose, for Beere and Ale.

132

Wjpn T^p

$^.ncl not -v'nliK^i.V; rA.<,her t°o tha.ia fa.il. ^M-le'l feJl Ker E>-ey aDid N°fe for B"r ivud Rk.

TO qAJ^TH&^J.

/tU^TH&oA I am going hence g^ yAi With some small stock of innocence

"^ But yet those blessed gates I see Withstanding entrance unto me. To prav for me doe thou begin, The Porter then will let me in.

HIS WISH TO TTilVcACm.

Q

yiV6 me a Cell

To dwell, Where no foot hath

A path : There will I spend,

And end My wearied yeares

In teares.

135

S 9-* Z/T^ jingles now, and sweares by no meane oathes, He's double honour'd, since h'as got gay cloathes : Most like his Suite, and all commend the Trim ; And thus they praise the Sumpter ; but not him : As to the Goddesse, people did conferre Worship, and not to'th' Asse that carried her.

TO HIS "BOOKS.

roAKS mine advise, and go not neere Those faces (sower as Vinegar.) For these, and Nobler numbers can Ne'r please the supercillious man.

TO mr ILL T{&(iAT:>&Ti.

rHO U say'st my lines are hard ; And I the truth will tell ; They are both hard, and marr'd. If thou not read'st them well.

136

I

J^-^-n^-^/',

r

J'pvr jiagl«-r Ji°we, a^id. W^a.t^s by n° m'^an °AfhJ- H^'j- dovble-h°novr'd,l'ince ji'a,j- g-oj Gay <^ioath«r /^°ft lik^ Jxy^ fvite, cLUd a.U coj^vn^ej^cL the triitu

y\f 1° tlie fi-°da«fj-e p<?°ple did. cojT^fej.]-e. ■WrfKip,a.nd Ti°t io\y ^Lf/e tha.t '•a.rried. A^i-

I

TO DIcAT^&mG.

SW66T, be not proud of those two eyes, Which Star-like sparkle in their skies : Nor be you proud, that you can see All hearts your captives ; yours, yet free : Be you not proud of that rich haire, Which wantons with the Love-sick aire : When as that Tijibie, which you weare, Sunk from the tip of your soft eare. Will last to be a precious Stone, When all your world of Beautie's gone.

lO

139

UTOT^ CUFFS. &TIG.

y^UFFQ, comes to Church much ; but he keeps his bed f / Those Sundayes onely, when as Briefs are read.

This makes Cuffe dull ; and troubles him the most, Because he cannot sleep i'th'Church, free-cost.

/

VTOT^ THQ T>&TRsACT&Ti^

ask't thee oft, what Poets thou hast read, And lik'st the best ? Still thou reply'st. The dead. I shall, ere long, w:ith green turfs cover'd be ; Then sure thou't like, or thou wilt envie me.

L

TO qA FTijaU^'D.

00K6 in my Book, and herein see, Life endlesse sign'd to thee and me. We o're the tombes, and Fates shall flye While other generations dye.

140

t\e Keep^ Ki^ bed '

I'hPf^ Jwnd-ajyr -^ri'ly, when a.y(5a.

brJffvT ei.r« rea^oL. ThiV wakfj- Cvffe olvll ^ and 'fi^?.

irovblej- him the m^ft ^

free-cof^.

TT^T<& she lyes (in Bed of Spice) / S Faire as &ve in Paradice : For her beauty it was such Poets co'd not praise too much. Virgins Come, and in a Ring Her supreamest T{equiem sing ; Then depart, but see ye tread Lightly, Hghtly ore the dead.

(iA7<i ^TITqATH UTOCX qA VI^RGIC^,.

T" Y6TiS a solemne Fast we keepe, hH While all beauty lyes asleep

Husht be all things ; (no noyse here)

But the toning of a teare :

Or a sigh of such as bring

Cowslips for her covering.

H3

TO HIS GITiLGS WHO WOULT> HoAVQ Him S'POKJFUIL.

ylLoAS I can't, for tell me how ^y~t Can I be gamesome (aged now)

Besides ye see me daily grow Here Winter-like, to Frost and Snow. And I ere long, my Girles shall see. Ye quake for cold to looke on me.

LYI{ICK F0Ti^L6GQACmS.

^^~yOLT> I've none, for use or show, f "W" Neither Silver to bestow ^ At my death ; but thus much know, That each Lyrick here shall be Of my love a Legacie, Left to all posterity. Gentle friends, then doe but please, To accept such coynes as these ; As my last Remembrances.

144

T" hU Girlcj- v/hp wovM ha.uc Kim ^ortfvJl

AW .' I <^cin't, for leil nfi hpv

^A,n I be gam«/<>m&. A-g^d now;

B'f idt; y« f== m= da.ily JrONf Hi'r', ■iJinier-IiK'. t° /roft and ftow, oVnci J crc Jonj, my gjrj'j-, fhall {'^ Y^ IvAKe for coja (o jooj^c o„ j„c

^

THs commi:NiG of goot> luck.

s

0 Good-luck came, and on my roofe did light, Like noyse-lesse Snow ; or as the dew of night Not all at once, but gentlv, as the trees Are, by the Sun-beams, tickel'd by degrees.

TH6 T'OW&Ti ICX TH& TQO'PLQ.

ST Kings Command, and doe the best they ma The saucie Subjects still will beare the sway.

ILL G0VQT<p<im6UX.T.

(T^'K&POSTS'KOUS is that Government, (and rude) ■^ When Kings obey the wilder Multitude.

Q

Losss, mpm ths l&qast.

l^cAT men by small meanes oft are overthrown He's Lord of thy life^ who contemnes his own.

147

TO 0&7<i07<ia.

CJ ^ \IIqAT Conscience, say, is it in thee LSI) When I a Heart had one.

To Take away that Heart from me, And to retain thy own ?

For shame or pitty now encline

To play a loving part ; Either to send me kindly thine,

Or give me back my heart.

Covet not both ; but if thou dost

Resolve to part with neither ; Why ! yet to shew that thou art just,

Take me and mine together.

TH& 'B%¥B&-C<zAKS>.

rHIS day my Julia thou must make For Mistresse Bride, the wedding Cake Knead but the Dow and it will be To paste ot Almonds turn'd by thee : Or kisse it thou, but once, or twice, And for the Bride-Cake ther'l be Spice.

148

'"S^

T?,^^

f «v« • • «

I

HIS T&cATiS TO THqAoMqASIS.

/Send, I send here my supremest kiss To thee my silver-footed Thamasts. No more shall I reiterate thy Strand, Whereon so many Stately Structures stand : Nor in the summers sweeter evenings go, To bath in thee (as thousand others doe.) No more shall I a long thy christall glide, In Barge (with boughes and rushes beautifi'd) With soft smooth Virgins (for our chast disport) To 'RJchmondj Kingstone, and to Hampton- Court: Never againe shall I with Finnie-Ore Put from, or draw unto the faithfull shore : And Landing here, or safely Landing there, Make my wav to my beloved Westminster : Or to the Golden-cheap-side, where the earth Of Julia Herrick gave to me my Birth. May all clean T^imphs and curious water Dames, With Swan-like-state, flote up y down thy streams: No drought upon thv wanton waters fall To make them Leane, and languishing at all. No ruffling winds come hither to discease Thy pure, and Silver-wristed U^aides. Keep up your state ye streams^ ; and as ye spring, Never make sick vour Banks by surfeiting. Grow young with Tydes, and though I see ye never, Receive this vow, so fare-ye-well for ever.

151

-.y^naii^IS-'TiTTS, Ripe, Ripe, I cry, ij Full and faire ones ; come and buy

If so be, you ask me where They doe grow ? I answer. There, Where my Julids Hps doe smile ; There's the Land, or Cherrv-Ile : Whose Plantations fully show All the yeere, where Cherries grow.

HOW ToAV^SmS 0%^ HQ(iATS-&qAS& CoAmQ FITiST.

W '^'^OLLICK Virgins once these were, Ml Over-loving, (living here :)

Being here their ends deny'd Ranne for Sweet-hearts mad, and dy'd. Love in pitie of their teares, And their losse in blooming yeares ; For their restlesse here-spent houres, Gave them Hearts-ease turn'd to Flow'rs.

152

H'* •Heacftfea.ft escape f j^f^

IroJIi'^K UirginJ- "/.teth'f' ««■!*'.,' .^,. 1 Oitfr-louing.littin? h^re v'^'j-/ ^^inj hf^r^ <hs£r «7idJ- d^iiyU *»<).

' -M-nd ili^it MJ'' in bj^ming y<j „.T'T -OVU r«Wefj-« here fbenl A

RoJ). H^rrifjf

TO WBIUX. %QTy-'BT{&ST.

LqAFD out for dead, let thy last kindnesse be With leaves and mosse-work for to cover me: And while the Wood-nimphs my cold corps inter, Sing thou my Dirge, sweet-warbling Chorister ! For Epitaph, in Foliage, next write this.

Here, Jiere the Tomb of '^obin Herrick is.

THS> ScAT)U^&SS6, OF THIU^GS FOTi ScATHO'S

SICKC^6SS8

LILLI6S will languish ; Violets look ill ; Sickly the Prim-rose : Pale the DafFadill : That gallant Tulip will hang down his head, Like to a Virgin newly ravished. Pansies will weep ; and Marygolds will wither ; And keep a Fast, and Funerall together, If SapJio droop ; Daisies will open never, But bid Good-night, and close their lids for ever.

II

155

TO C(iAT<^cAT10:NiS. oA SOC^G.

S

TqA Y while ye will, or goe ;

And leave no scent behind ye : Yet trust me ; I shall know

The place, where I may find ye.

Within my Lucia's cheek, (Whose Livery ye weare)

Play ye at Hide or Seek, I'm sure to find ye there.

TO SdA'PHO.

SqA'PHO, I will chuse to go Where the Northern winds do blow Endlesse Ice, and endlesse Snow : Rather then I wonce wo'd see. But a Winters face in thee. To bennumme my hopes and me.

05\; CHLOIilS WdALKIT^iG IC^, TH6> S7<iOW.

/saw faire Chloris walke alone. When feather'd raine came softly down, Then yove descended from his Tower, To court her in a silver shower. The wanton snow flew to her brest. Like little birds into their nest ; But overcome with whitenes there. For greife it thaw'd into a teare. Then falling down her garment hem. To deck her, froze into a gem.

156

Oa Chioriy WalKinge jn;^ Sno^e

I

V

^

^ ^

Iv/sv'ji' /aire (-Klori j- 'w'a lh<^ a.lor\e- ""^

^C'hfR feAfhcr'tl rAinf^ cam^ foijijy a->-<}Vf\^, ^ TK«n lou«^ defccnded from hi J- tc>M»<r T" covrt H'^r jii a ijlufr Iho>wer, The Wanton. ^n°\t^ fl«v t" h«r breA liK^ littl<= bird-^ juto xn^ir iieR; ,,^|^

Rvt ouCr'^om.e' «riCh >j^hitenej^ ih^r<^^ '^

foy Gri*f<= iiOm.\ved inio a T«arc-, ''^^ Th^n falling dPwn. h?r Gwmfm )i«>n. To decKe her, f r-^^e iaio a. f «m. .

HOW lipSSS CcA<£M6 Ti&'D.

(R

0S6S at first were white, Till they co'd not agree,

Whether my Sapho's breast,

Or they more white she'd be.

But being vanquisht quite,

A blush their cheeks bespred ; Since which (beleeve the rest)

The T{gses first came red.

HOW VIOL&TS CcAm6> "BLQW.

L

01)6 on a day (wise Poets tell) Some time in wrangling spent,

Whether the Violets sho'd excell, Or she, in sw-eetest scent.

But 1)011(3 having lost the day, Poore Girles, she fell on you ;

And beat ye so, (as some dare say) Her blowes did make ye blew.

159

TO ToAu^sms.

/tHl cruell Love ! must I endure m A^ Thy many scorns, and find no cure ?

Sav, are thv medicines made to be Helps to all others, but to me ? He leave thee, and to T^ansies come ; Comforts you'l afford me some : You can ease my heart, and doe What Love co'd ne'r be brought unto.

/

o:Mi HI0MS&LF&.

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

(B

UTOUX, "BLqAU^CH.

LqAU^CH swears her Husband's lovely; when a scald Has blear'd his eyes : Besides, his head is bald. Next, his wilde eares, like Lethern wings full spread. Flutter to flie, and beare away his head.

160

\/y>°^■\. '^Id^n^K

E./\ aUv

Tjvttcr to fjie e^nct B^a^rC a.w<ay Kw K€'ac£

TO SYCqAqMO'R^S.

/'qM sick of Love ; O let me lie Under your shades, to sleep or die ! Either is welcome ; so I have Or here my Bed, or here my Grave. Why do you sigh, and sob, and keep Time with the tears, that I do weep ? Say, have ye sence, or do you prove What Crucifixions are in Love ? I know ye do ; and that's the why, You sigh for Love, as well as L

U^O LUCK lUSi LOV&.

I

doe love I know not what ; Sometimes this, ^ sometimes that All conditions I aime at.

But, as lucklesse, I have yet Many shrewd disasters met. To gaine her whom I wo'd get.

Therefore now He love no more,

As Lve doted heretofore :

He who must be, shall be poore.

TO CH6'KRY-'BLOSSOdM6S.

r<o may simper, blush, and smile, And perfume the aire a while : But (sweet things) ye must be gone Fruit, ve know, is comming on : Then, Ah ! Then, where is your grace. When as Cherries come in place ?

163

TO HIS "BOOKS.

^^~y OS thou forth my booke, though late f ^ Yet be timely fortunate.

^ It may chance good-luck may send Thee a kinsman, or a friend, That may harbour thee, when I, With my fates neglected lye. If thou know'st not where to dwell. See, the fier's by : Farewell.

TO HIS "BOOKS.

li /W'qAKS haste away, and let one be pt y f' t A friendly Patron unto thee :

Lest rapt from hence, I see thee lye Torn for the use of Pasterie ; Or see thy injur'd Leaves serve well. To make loose Gownes for Mackarell : Or see the Grocers in a trice. Make hoods of thee to serve out Spice.

C

THS CO"BIS%S CqATCH

OqMS sit we by the fires side ;

And roundly drinke we here ; Till that we see our cheekes Ale-dy'd And noses tann'd with Beere.

164

(i°m.^ Sii ^i- by y Tirej- fid.t ■And lOvndlly PrinKe ^ee h^/v (p^\

Till -fhaLt ■we fee Oyr C)^eeKex Aie-dygr^ ^nl /Vof'^J' lanan with. Beer« ^^

VPOCX qA CHIUD THqAT "DYQ'D.

y JTiiT^ she lies, a pretty bud, / / Lately made of flesh and blood Who, as soone, fell fast asleep, As her lirtle fst'cj eyes did peep. Give her strewings ; but not stir The earth, that lightly covers her.

HOW moA'RIGOL'D'S CqAqM^ Y6LL0W.

/QcALOUS Girles these sometimes were, While they liv'd, or lasted here : Turn'd to Flowers^ still they be Yellow, markt for Jealousie.

TO eMIST1{6SS6 "DOTiOTHY TcAT^SOU^S.

/F thou aske me (Deare) wherefore I do write of thee no more : I must answer (Sweet) thy part Lesse is here, then in my heart.

167

TO HIS :^€'PHGW TO "BS "PT^OST&TiOUS lU^. HIS qAT^J of TQAi:NiTIU^G.

OC^, as thou hast begunne, brave youth, and get The Palme from Urbin, Titian^ Tintarret, 'Brugel, and Coxu, and the workes out-doe, Of Holben^ and That mighty ^iben too. So draw, and paint, as none may do the like. No, not the glory of the World, 'Vandike.

TH& T>&T(iAT<JUTi& OF TH& GOOD "D&mOV^.

CJ ^ SHqAT can I do in Poetry, LSI) Now the good Spirit's gone from me ? Why nothing now, but lonely sit, And over-read what I have writ.

V'P07<i F07<i& qA SCHOOL-qMcASTCIL STIG.

F

OU^S> sayes, those mighty whiskers he do's weare. Are twigs of Birch, and willow, growing there : If so, we'll think too, (when he do's condemne Boyes to the lash) that he do's whip with them.

1 68

VpojT. T^n^ Qu School- rna^i-tcjr

rone {a>ffs \h°{^ inigKty whifk^rj- Ke i°'s y/^<».r<^,

>Vl-e (.-*-igj- Of tirch, a-nd willow, gro-wing i.h.er<^ ; Is fo, '^•«"Jl iKink too, wh^n. he do'j condemn^' Jgoye^ L^ th.e lafK, ^fie^t K^' dPs -whip ^»itK them,.

VPOT^ L0V6. 'BY WcAY OF QU6STI07^ cAU^T)

QA7<iSW&%

/Bring ye love : Quest. What will love do ? Ans. Like, and dislike ye : I bring ye love : Quest. What will love do ?

Ans. Stroake ye to strike ye. I bring ye love : Quest. What will love do ?

Ans. Love will be-foole ye : I bring ye love : Quest. What will love do ?

Ans. Heate ye to coole ye : I bring ye love : Quest. What will love do ?

Ans. Love gifts will send ye : I bring ye love : Quest. What will love do ?

Ans. Stock ye to spend ye : I bring ye love : Quest. What will love do ?

Ans. Love will fulfill ye : I bring ye love : Quest. What will love do ?

Ans. Kisse ye, to kill ye.

ro musiQus, ro msccAUMQ his Fsve^

c

HqA''RqM& me asleep, and melt me so

With thy Delicious Numbers ; That being ravisht, hence I goe Away in easie slumbers. Ease my sick head, And make my bed,

Thou

12 171

Thou Power that canst sever From me this ill : And quickly still : Though thou not kill My Fever.

Thou sweetly canst convert the same

From a consuming fire, Into a gentle-licking flame. And make it thus expire.

Then make me weep My paines asleep ; And give me such reposes. That I, poore I, May think, thereby, I live and die

'Mongst Roses,

Fall on me like a silent dew,

Or like those Maiden showrs. Which, by the peepe of day, doe strew A Baptime o're the flowers.

Melt, melt my paines With thy soft straines; That having ease me given, With full delight, I leave this light; And take my flight For Heaven.

172

To hvSlQVE

• « • ■ • •

I

Noble Numbers,

HIS COUSiF&SSIOU^.

LOOK how our foule Daves do exceed our faire ; And as our bad, more then our good Works are: Ev'n so those Lines; pen'd by my wanton Wit, Treble the number of these good I've writ. Things precious are least num'rous : Men are prone To do ten Bad, for one Good Action.

qA CH%ISTm<zAS CcATiPLL SUU^G TO TH& KIT^G lUX. TH& VKSSSU^CS qAT WHITQ-HcALL.

W

Lhor. CJ ^ \HqAT sweeter musick can we bring, Then a Caroll, for to sing The Birth of this our heavenly King ?

Awake the Voice ! Awake the String !

Heart, Eare, and Eye, and every thing

Awake ! the while the active Finger

Runs division with the Singer.

From the Flourish they came to the Song.

Dark and dull night, flie hence away. And give the honour to this Day, That sees T^ecember turn'd to oMay.

175

If

2 If we may ask the reason, say ;

The why, and wherefore all things here Seem like the Spring-time of the yeere ?

3 Why do's the chilling Winters morne Smile, like a field beset with corne ? Or smell, like to a Meade new-shorne, Thus, on the sudden ? 4. Come and see The cause, why things thus fragrant be : 'Tis He is borne, whose quickning Birth Gives life and luster, publike mirth,

To Heaven, and the under-Earth.

Chor. We see Him come, and know him ours.

Who with His Sun-shine and His showers Turnes all the patient ground to flowers.

I The Darling of the world is come, And fit it is, we finde a roome To welcome Him. The nobler part Of all the house here, is the heart,

Chor. Which we will give Him ; and bequeath This Hollie, and this Ivie Wreath, To do Him honour ; who's our King, Ann Lord of all this Revelling.

The oMusicall Tart was composed by M. Henry Lawes.

€TQT<P<iITI6.

OYeares ! and Age ! Farewell ; Behold I go, Where I do know Infinitie to dwell.

And

176

lyiss-tr) (^S\ge\ foswejl: JnfmU.e to dvejL. />\Tid <h^f« Jnai® ti|> IKa,!! P*

-^j}c;<r Tn« ^a-TrlTifevi ©/Re

Miu-i^e "^

And these mine eyes shall see All times, how they Are lost i'th'Sea

Of vast Eternitie.

Where never Moone shall sway The Starres ; but she, And Night, shall be

Drown'd in one endlesse Dav.

COCK-CTipW.

^^^ry&LL-QMcAU^ of Night, if I about shall go • #j For to denie my Master, do thou crow.

Thou stop'st S. Teeter in the midst of sin ; Stay me, by crowing, ere I do begin ; Better it is, premonish'd, for to shun A sin, then fall to weeping when 'tis done.

rHOU hast made manv Houses for the Dead ; When my Lot calls me to be buried. For Love or Pittie, prethee let there be I'th' Church-yard; made, one Tenement for me.

T

T&m'PTQATlOV^.

HOS& Saints, which God loves best. The Devill tempts not least.

179

THS> TiOSG.

/^T^&FO%§> Mans fall, the Rose was born • y^ (S. oAmbrose saves) without the Thorn : But, for Mans fault, then was the Thorn, Without the fragrant Rose-bud, born ; But ne're the Rose without the Thorn.

oAV^ ODS OF TH& miTiJH OF 0U% ScAVIOU%

/(T^i Numbers, and but these few, I sing Thy Birth, Oh JESU ! Thou prettie Babie, borne here, With sup'rabundant scorn here : Who for Thy Princely Port here,

Hadst for Thy place Of Birth, a base Out-stable for thy Court here.

Instead of neat Inclosures Of inter-woven Osiers ; Instead of fragrant Posies Of Daffadills, and Roses; Thy cradle. Kingly Stranger,

As Gospell tells,

Was nothing els. But, here, a homely manger.

But

1 80

But we with Silks, (not Cruells) With sundry precious Jewells, And Lillv-work will dresse Thee ; And as we dispossesse thee Of clouts, wee'l make a chamber,

Sweet Babe, for Thee,

Of Ivorie, And plaister'd round with Amber.

The Jewes they did disdaine Thee, But we will entertaine Thee With Glories to await here Upon Thy Princely State here, And more for love, then pittie.

From yeere to yeere Wee'l make Thee, here, A Free-born of our Citie.

cJ GT<qAC& FOTl qA CHIUD.

Y Y^T<§ a little child I stand, # / Heaving up mv either hand ;

Cold as paddocks though they be. Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benizon to fall On our meat, and on us all. Amen.

ITPOUSi T&qA'PSS.

rScAI^S, though th'are here below the sinners brine. Above they are the Angels spiced wine.

183

MLOU^G the dark, and silent night, ^ /-I With my Lantern, and my Light,

And the trinkhng of my Bell, Thus I walk, and this I tell : Death and dreadfulnesse call on, To the gen'rall Session ; To whose dismall Barre, we there All accompts must come to cleere : Scores of sins w'ave made here many, Wip't out few, (God knowes) if any. Rise ye Debters then, and fall To make paiment, while I call. Ponder this, when I am gone ; By the clock 'tis almost One.

TO K&&T qA TTiU& L&U^T.

/S this a Fast, to keep The Larder leane ? And cleane From fat of Veales, and Sheep ?

Is it to quit the dish

Of Flesh, yet still To fill The platter high with Fish ?

Is it to fast an houre,

Or rag'd to go,

Or show A down-cast look, and sowre ?

184

No

No : 'tis a Fast, to dole

Thy sheaf of wheat, And meat Unto the hungry Soule.

It is to fast from strife.

From old debate, And hate ; To circumcise thy life.

To shew a heart grief-rent ;

To sterve thy sin, Not Bin ; And that's to keep thy Lent.

CLOqATHS FO'K C0C\TI7^UcA7^CS.

rHOS& Garments lasting evermore, Are works of mercy to the poore, Which neither Tettar, Time, or Moth Shall fray that silke, or fret this cloth.

13

187

rO his Book's end this last line he'd have plac't Jocond his oMuse was ; but his Life was chasL

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