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But what is thịs unconstant fraile,

Thou art not prone to kill, but where th' intent In nothing sure, but sure to faile?

Of those that suffer is their nourishment ; Which if we lose it we bewaile,

If thou canst steale into a dish, and creep, And when we have it still we beare

When all is still as though into a sleep, The worst of passions, daily feare.

And cover thy dry body with a draught,

Whereby some innocent lady may be caught, When love thus in his center ends,

And cheated of her life, then thou wilt come Desire and hope, his inward friends

And stretch thy self upon her early tombe, Are shaken off, while doubt and griefe,

And laugh, aș pleas'd, to shew thou canst devoure The weakest givers of reliefe,

Mortality as well by wit as power. Stand in his councell as the chiefe;

I would thou hadst had eyes, or not a dart, And now he to his period brought,

That yet at least, the cloathing of that heart From love becomes some other thought.

Thou strook'st so spightfully, might have appear’d, These lines I write not to remove

To thee, and with a reverence have been feard: Voited squles from serious love,

But since thou art so blind, receive from me The best attempts by mortais made

Who 'twas on whom thou wrought'st this tragedy ; Reflect on things which quickly fade ;

She was a lady, who for publique fame, Yet never will I men perswade

Never (since she in thy protection came, To leave affections where may shine

Who sett'st all living tongues at large) receiv'd Impressions of the love divine.

A blemish ; with her beauty she deceiv'd
No man, when taken with it they agree
'Twas Nature's fault, when from 'em 'twas in thce.
And such her vertue was, that although she

Receive as much joy, haying pass'd through thce,

As ever any did; yet hath thy hate

Made her as little better in her state,
A SHEPHERDESSE who long bąd kept her flocks

As ever it did any being here,
On stony Charnwood's dry and barren rocks, She liv'd with us as if she had been there.
In beate of summer to the vales deciin'd

Such ladies thou canst kill no more, but so
To seek fresh pasture for her lambs halfe pin'd; I give thee warning here to kill no moe ;
She (while her charge was feeding) spent the houres For if thou dost, my pen shall make the rest
To gaze on sliding brooks, and smiling flowers. Of those that live, especially the best,

Whom thou most thirstest for, t'abandon all
Those fruitlesse things, which thou wouldst have

us call

Preservatives, keeping their diet so, A PUNERALL ELOGIE ON THE DEATH OF As the long-living poore their neighbours do : THE LADY PENELOPE CLIFTON! Then shall we have them long, and they at last

Shall passe from thee to her, but not so fast.
Since thou art dead (Clifton) the world may see
A certaine end of flesh and bloud in thee;
Till then a way was left for man to cry,
Flesh may be made so pure, it cannot dye :
But now, thy unexpected death doth strike
With griefe the better and the worse alike; EXAMINATION OF HIS MISTRIS' PER-
The good are sad they are not with thee there,

The bad have found they must not tarry here.
Death, I confesse, 'tis just in thee to try

STAND still my happinesse, and swelling heart
Thy power on us, for thou thy selfe must dye; No more, till I consider what thou art.
Thou pay'st but wages, Death, yet I would know Desire of knowledge was man's fatall vice,
What strange delight thou tak'st to pay them so ; For when our parents were in Paradice (good)
When thoy com'st face to face thou strik'st us mute, (Though they themselves, and all they saw was
And all our liberty is to dispute

They thought it nothing if not understood. With thee behinde thy back, which I will use ; And I (part of their seed struck with their sin) If thou hadst brav'ry in thee thou wouldst chuse Though by their bountious favour I be in (Since thou art absolute, and canst controule A paradice, where I may freely taste All things beneath a reasonable soule,)

Of all the vertuous pleasures which thou hast, Some look for way of killing; if her day

Wanting that knowledge, must in all my blisse Had ended in a fire, a sword, or sea,

Erre with my parents, and aske what it is. Or hadst thou come hid in a hundred yeares

My faith saith 'tis not Heaven, and I dare sweare To make an end of all her hopes and feares, If it be Hell no paine of sence is there; Or any other way direct to thee

Sure 'tis some pleasant place, where I may stay, Which Nature might esteeme an enemy,

As I to Heaven go, in the middle way. Who would have chid thee? now it shews thy hand Wert thou but faire and no whit vertuous, Desires to cosin where it might command :

Thou wert no more to me but a faire house

Hanted with spirits, from which men do them • Daugbter to Robert Rich, earl of Warwick, blesse, and, first wife of sir Gervase Clifton, bart. See And no man will halfe furnish to possesse : another elegy on her in Sir John Beaumont's Or hadst thou worth wrapt in a rivell'd skin,

'Twere inaccessable; who durst go in




To find it out? far sooner would I go

But she that did a virgin seeme,
To find a pearle covered with hills of snow ; Possess'd, appears a wand'ring streame.
'Twere buried vertue, and thou mightst me move For his supposed love a third
To reverence the tombe, but not to love,

Laies greedy hold upon a bird ;
No more than dotingly to cast mine eye

And stands amaz'd to see his deare
Upon the urne where Lucrece' ashes lye.

& wild inhabitant of the aire.
But thou art faire, and sweet, and every good To such old tales such nymphs as you
That ever yet durst mixe with flesh and blood : Give credit, and still make them new ;
The Devill ne're saw in his fallen state

The amorous now like wonders find
An object whereupon to ground his hate

In the swift changes of your mind.
So fit as thee; all living things but he

But, Cælia, if you apprehend
Love thee ; how happy then must that man be The Muse of your incensed friend :
When from amongst all creatures thou dost take? Nor would that he record your blame,
Is there a hope beyond it? Can he make

And make it live, repeat the same;
A wish to change thee for? This is my blisse, Againe deceive him, and againe,
Let it run on now, I know what it is.

And then he sweares he'l not complaine;
For still to be deluded so
Is all the pleasures lovers know,
Who, like good falkners, take delight

Not in the quarrey, but the flight.
Here, Cælia, for thy sake I part
With all that grew so neere my heart;

The passion that I had for thee,

Not caring to observe the wind, The faith, the love, the constancy ;

Or the new sea explore,
And that I may successefull prove,

Snatcht froin thy selfe, how far behind
Transforme myself to what you love.
Foole that I was, so much to prize

Already I behold the shore.
Those simple vertues you despise?

May not a thousand dangers sleep Foole, that with such dull arrows strove,

In the smooth bosome of this deep : Or hop'd to reach a flying dove;

No, 'tis so rocklesse, and so cleare, For you that are in motion still

That the rich bottom does appeare Decline our force, and mock our skill;

Pav'd all with precious things, not iorne
Who, like Don Quixote, do advance

From shipwrackt vessels, but there borue ;
Against a windmill our vaine lauce.
Now will I wander through the aire,

Sweetnesse, truth, and every grace

Which time and use are wont to teach,
Mount, make a stoope at every faire,
And with a fancy unconfin'd

The eye may in a moment reach, (As lawlesse as the sea, or wind)

And read distinctly in her face. Pursue you wheresoe're you fie,

Some other nymph with colour faint, And with your various thoughts comply.

And pencill slow may Cupid paint; The formall stars do travell, so

And a wcake heart in time destroy, As we their names and courses know;

She has a stampe and prints the boy,
And he that on their changes looks

Can with a single looke inflame
Would thinke them goveru'd by our books; The coldest breast, the rudest tame.
But never were the clouds reduc'd
To any art the motion us'd,
By those free vapours are so light,
So frequent, that the conquer'd siglit

Despaires to find the rules that guide
Those gilded shadows as they slide;

For shaine thou everlasting wooer,
And therefore of the spalious aire

Still saying grace, and never falling to her. Jove's royall consort had the care,

Love that is in contemplation plac'd, And by that power did once escape

Is Venús diawn but to the waste? Declining bold Ixion's rape;

Unlesse your flame confesse its gender, She with her own resemblance gracd

And your parley cause surrender; A shining cloud, which he imbrac'd.

Y' are salamanders of a cold desire, Such was that imge, so it sinil'd

That live untoucht amid the hottest fire. With seeming kindness, which beg I'd

What though she be a dame of stone, Your Thirsis lately, when he thought

The widow of Pigmalion; He had his feeting Calia caught;

As hard and unreleuting she 'Twas shap'd like ber, but for the faire

As the new crusted Niobe ; He fill'd his armes with yeelding aire,

Or what doth more of statue carry, A fate for which he grieves the lesse

A nun of the Platonic quarry ? Because the gods had like successe:

Love melts the rigour which the rocks hare bred, For in their story one (we see)

A fint will break upon a feather bed.
Pursues'a nymph, and takes a tree;
A second with a lover's haste

For shame, you pretty female elves,
Soone overtakes what he had chaste;

Cease for to candy up your



No more, you sectaries of the game,
No more of your calcining flame,
Women commence by Cupid's dart,
As a king hunting dubs a hart;
Love's votaries inthrale each other's soule,
Till both of them live but upon parole.
Vertae's no more in women kind,
But the green sicknesse of the mind.
Phylosophy, their new delight,
A kind of charcoale appetite.
There is no sophistry prevailes
Where all-convincing love assailes;
But the disputing petticoat will warp,
As skilfull gamesters are to seek at sharp.
The souldier, that man of iron,
Whom ribs of borrour all inviron;
That's strung with wire instead of veines,
In whose embraces you're in chaines ;
Let a magnetic girle appeare,
Straight he turnes Cupid's cuiraseer.
Love stormes his lips, and takes the fortresse in,
For all the bristled turn-pikes of his chin.
Since love's artillery then checks
The breast-works of the firmest sex,
Come let us in affections riot,
Th'are sickly pleasures keep a diet.
Give me a lover bold and free,
Not eunucht with formality :
Like an erobassadour that beds a queen,
With the nice caution of a sword between.

SONG II, Bevoid the brand of beauty tost ;

See how the motion does dilate the flame, Delighted love his spoiles does boast,

And triumph in this game : Fire to no place confin'd,

Is both our wonder, and our feare, Moving the mind

Like lightning hurled through the aire. High Heaven the glory doth increase

Of all her shining lamps this artfull way; The Sun in figures such as these

Joies with the Moone to play;
To these sweet straines they advance,

Which do result from their own spheares, As this nymph's dance

Moves with the numbers which she hearer.

SONG. Say, lovely dreame, where couldst thou find

Sbades to counterfeit that face? Colours of this glorious kind

Come not from any mortall place. In Heaven it selfe thou sure wert drest

With that angel-like disguise: Thos deluded am I blest,

And see my joy with closed eyes. But, ah! this image is too kind

To be other than a dreame, Cruell Sacharissa's mind

Never put on that sweete extreame.

AN ELEGY. Heaven knows my love to thee, fed on desires So hallowed, and unmixt with vulgar fires, As are the purest beames shot from the Sun At his full height, and the devotion Of dying martyrs could not burne more cleare, Nor innocence in ber first robes appeare Whiter than our affections; they did show Like frost forc'd out of fames and fire from snow. So pure the phenix, when she did refine Her age to youth, borrow'd no james but mine. But now iny day's so 're cast, for I have now Drawn anger, like a tempest, o're the brow Of my faire mistris ; those your glorious eyes Whence I was wont to see my day-star rise Thereat, like revengefull meteors; and I feele My torment, my gilt double, my Hell: 'Twas a mistake, and might have veniall been, Done to another, but it was made sin, And justly mortall too, by troubling thee, Slight wrongs are treasons done to majesty. O all ye blest ghosts of deceased loves, That now lie sainted in the Eclesian groves, Mediate for mercy for me; at her shrine (mine: Meet with full quire, and joine your prayers with Conjure her by the merits of your kisses, By your past sufferings, and your present Llisses. Conjure her by your mutuall hopes and feares, By all your intermixed sighs and teares, To plead my pardon: go to her and tell That you will walke the guardian sentinell, My soule's safe Genii, that she need not feare A mutinous thought, or one close rebell there ; But what needs that, when she alone sits there Sole angell of that orbe ? in her own spheare Alone she sits, and can secure it free From all irregular motions; only she, Can give the balsome that must cure this sore, And the sweet antidote to sin no more".

Faire dreame, if thou intend'st me grace,

Change this heavenly forme of thine; Paint despis'd love in thy face,

And make it to appeare like mine. Pale, wan, and meager, let it looke,

With a pitty-moving shape, Sach as wander by the brooke

Of Lethe, or from graves escape. Then to that matchlesse nymph appeare,

In whose shape thon shinest so, Softly in her sleeping care,

With humble words expresse my woe. Perhaps from greatnesse, state and pride,

Thus surprised she may fall; Sleep does disproportion hide,

And death resembling equals all.




HILE Others drop their teares upon thy hearse, Sweet Charles, and sigh t'increase the wind, my

verse, * These lines occur among Randolph's poems. N.

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What caus'd my death, and there to view
Of all their judgments which was true,
Rip up my heart, O then I feare
The world will see thy picture there.

Pious in naming thee, cannot complaine
of death, or fate, for they were lately slaine
By thy own condict; and since good men know
What Heaven to such a virgin saint doth owe;
Though sonic will say they saw thee dead, yet I
Congratulate thy life and victory :
Thy flesh, an upper garment, that it might
Aide thy eternall progresse, first grew light;
Nothing but angel now, which thon wert neere,
Almost reduc'd to thy first spirit here :
But ây, faire soule, while our complaints are just,
That cannot follow for our chaines of dust'.

Now fie on foolish love, it not befits

Or man or woman know it.
Love was not meant for people in their wits,

And they that fondly shew it
Betray the straw, and feathers in their braine,

And shall have Bedlam for their paine :
If single love be such a curse,
To marry is to make it ten times worse.

ETERNITY OF LOVE PROTESTED. How ill doth he deserve a lover's name,

Whose pale weake fame

Cannot retnine
His heat in spight of absence or disdaine ;
But doth at once, like paper set on tie,

Burne and expire.
True love can never change his seat,
Nor did be ever love that could retreat ;
That noble flame which my breast keeps alive

Shall still survive,

When my soulc's fled;
Nor shall my love die when my body's dead,
That shall waite on me to the lower shade,

And never fade.
My very ashes in their urne
Shall, like a hallowed lamp, for ever burne.



A SONG, Go and catch a falling star,

Get with child a maudrake root, Tell me where all past yeares are,

Or who cleft the devil's foot; Teach me to heare mermaids singing, Or to keep off enry's stinging,

and find

What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.

If thou beest born to strange sights,

Things invisible to see,
Pide ten thousand daies and nights,

Till age snow white baires on thee;
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee,

And sweare,
No where

Lives a woman true and faire.

Let fooles great Cupid's yoake disdaine,

Loving their own wild freedome better,
Whilst proud of my triumphant chaine

I sit, and court my beautious fetter.
Her murd'ring glances, snaring haires,

And her bewitching smiles, so please me,
As he brings ruine that repaires

The sweet afflictions that displease me.
Hide not those panting balls of snow

With envious veiles from my beholding;
Volock those lips, their pearly row

In a sweet smile of love unfolding.
And let those eyes whose motion wheeles

The restlesse fate of every lover,
Survey the paines my sick heart feeles,

And wounds themselves have made discover.


SECRESIE PROTESTED. Teare not (deare love) that l'le reveale Those hours of pleasure we two steale;

No eye shall see, nor yet the Sun
Descry, what thou and I have done ;
No eare shall heare our love, but we

Silent as the night will be;.
The god of love himselfe (whose dart

Enter Iris runuing, Mercury following and catchDid first wound mine, and then thy heart)

ing hold of her. Sball never know that we can tell What sweets in stoln embraces dwell: .

MERCURY This only meanes may find it out,

Stay light-foot Iris, for thou striv'st in vaine, If when I die physicians doubt

My wings are nimbler than thy feet;

Away, 5 These lines have been ascribed to James Dissembling Mercury, my messages Shirley, in whose poems they are printed. Page Aske honest haste, not like those wanton ones 65, ed. 1646. No

Your thundring father sends.


MER. Stay foolish maid,

Ye maids, who yeareley at appoiuted times Or I will take my rise upon a bill

Advance with kindly teares the gentle flouds, When I perceive thee seated in a cloud

Descend and powre your blessing on these streames, In all the painted glory that thou hast,

Which rouling down from Heaven, aspiring hils, And never cease to clap my willing wing,

And now united in the fruitfull vales, Till I catch hold on thy discolour'd bow,

Beare all before them, ravish with their joy, And shiver it beyond the angry power

And swell in glory till they know no bounds. Of your mad mistris to make up againe.

IR IS. Hermes forbeare, Juno will chide and strike: The cloud descends with the Hyades, at which the Is great Jove jealous that I am imployed?

maids seeme to be rejoyced, they all dance a On her lore errands she did never yet

while together, then make another stand as if Claspe weak mortality in her white armes,

they wanted something. As he hath often done; I only come To celebrate the long-wish'd nuptials

IR IS. Great wit and power bath Hermes to con

A lively dance which of one sex consists. (trive Here in Olympia, which are now perform'd Betwixt two goodly rivers that have mix'd

MER. Alas poore Iris, Venus hath in store Their gentle winding waves, and are to grow

A secret ambush of her winged boyes, lato a thousand streames, great as themselves :

Who lurking long within these pleasant groves,

First stuck these fowers with their equall darts; I need not name them, for the sound is loud In Heaven and Earth, and I am sent from her,

Those Cupids shall come forth and joyne with these,

To bonour that which they themselves began. The queene of marriage, that was present here, And smild to see them joyne, and bath not chid 'The Cupids come forth and dance, they are weary Since it was done; god Hermes, let me go.

with their blind pursuing the Nymphs, and the MER. Nay you must stay. Jove's message is the Nymphs weary with flying them. same,

(thunder, Whose eyes are lightning, and whose voice is

IRIS. Behold the statues which wise Vulcan Whose breath is airy wind, he will, who knowes

Under the altar of Olympian Jove, (plac'd How to be first in Earth as well as Heaven,

And gave to them an artificiall life ; IRIS. But what hath he to do with nuptiall rites?

Sue how they move, drawn by this heavenly joy, Let him sit pleas'd upon his starry throne,

Like the wild trees which followed Orpheus' harpe. And fright poore mortals with his thunder-bolts,

The Statues come down, and they all dance till Learing to us the mutuall darts of eyes.

the Nympbs out-run them and lose them, then HER. Alas, when ever offer'd he t’abridge

the Cupids go off, and last the statues. Your ladie's power, but only now in these, Whose match concernes the generall government :

MER. And what will Juno's Iris do for her? Hath not each god a part in these high joyes? IRIS. Just match this show, or mine inventions And shall not he the king of gods presume

faile; Without proud Juno's lycence? let her know,

Had it been worthier I would have in rok'd That when enamour'd Jore first gave her power

The blazing comets, clouds, and falling stars,
To linke soft hearts in undissolving bands, And all my kindred, meteors of the aire,
He then foresaw, and to himselse reserv'd

To have excelled it, but I now must strive
The honour of this marriage; thou shalt stand To imitate confusion, therefore thon,
Still as a rock, while I to blesse this feast, Delightfull flora, if thou ever felt'st
Will summon up with my all-charming rod

Increase of sweetnesse in those blooming plants The nymphs of fountains, from whose watry locks

On which the hornes of my faire bow decline, (Hung with the dex of blessing and encrease)

Send hither all that rurall company The greedy rivers take their nourishment.

Which deck the maygames with their clownislı Ye Nymphs, who, bathing in your loved springs,

Juno will have it so.

sports, Beheld these rivers in their infancy, And joy'd to see them when their circled heads

The second Antimasque rusheth in, they dance

their measure, and as rudely depart.
Refresh'd the aire, and spread the ground with

MER. Iris we strive,
Peise from the wels, and with your nimble feet Like winds at liberty, who should do worst
Performe that office to this happy paire

E're we returne.

if Juno be the queen Which in these plaines you to Alpheus did, Of marriages, let her give happy way When, passing hence through many seas unmix'd, | To what is done in honour of the state lle gain'd the favour of his Arctheuse.

She governs.
The Nymphs rise and dance a little and then make Meerly in honour of the state, and those

IRIS. Hermes so it may be done.
a stand.

That now have prov'd it; not to satisfie lais. Is Hermes grown a lover ? by what power The lust of Jupiter in having thanks Unknown to us calls he the majds?

More than his Juno, if thy snaky rod MER. Presumptuous Iris, I could make thee Hare power to search the Heaven, or sound the sea, Till thou forget'st thy ladie's messages, (dance, Or call together all the buds of earth, And runo'st back crying to her: thou shalt know To bring thee any thing that may do grace My power is more, only my breath and this To us, and these, do it, we shall be pleasid; Shall move fix'd stars, and force the firmament They know that from the mouth of Jove himselfe, To yield the Hyades, who governe showers, Whose words have winks, and need not to be borue, And dewy clouds, in wbose dispersed drops I took a message, and I bore it through Thou form'st the shape of thy deceitfull low; A thousand yeelding clouds, and never staid

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