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But spate (oh, Love!) to tax thy poet so, If then at liberty you faine would be,
Who oft bath born thy ensign 'gainst thy fo; Love yeelds to labour, labour and be free.
I am not 'ħe by whom thy mother bled,

Long sleeps, soft beds, rich vintage, and high feed--
When she to Heaven on Mars his horses fled. Nothing to do, and pleasure of exceeding, (ing.
I oft, like other youths, thy flame did prove, Dulls all our senses, makes our vertue stupid,
And if thou aske, what I do still; I love.

And then creeps in that crafty villaine Cupid. Nay, I have taught by art to keep love's courge, That boy loves ease of life, hates such as stir, And made that reason which before was force. Therefore thy mind to better things prefer. I seek not to betray thee, pretty boy,

Behold thy countrie's enemies in arines, Nor what I once have written to destroy.

At home Love gripes thy heart in his slie charmes $ If any love, and find his mistris kind,

Then rise and put on armour, cast off sloath, Let him go on, and saile with his own wind; Thy labour may at once o'recome them both. But he that by bis love is discontented,

If this seem hard, and too unpleasant, then To save his life my verses were invented ;

Bebold the law set forth by God and men, Why should a lover kill himselfe? or why

Sit down and study that, that thou majest know Should any, with his own griefe wounded, die? The way to guide thy selfe, and others show. Thou art a boy, to play becomes thee still, Or if thou lov'st not to be shut up so, Thy reign is soft, play then, and do not kill; Learne to assaile the deere with trusty bow, Or if thou'lt needs be vexing, then do this, That through the woods thy well-mouth'd hounds Make lovers meet by stealth, and steale a kisse :

may ring, Make them to feare, least any over-watch them, Whose eccho better joyes, than love, will sing. And tremble when they thinke some come to catch There maiest thou chance to bring thy love to end, them :

Diana unto Venus is no friend.
And with those teares that lovers shed all night The country will afford thee meanes enough ;
Be thou content, but do not kill out-right.

Sometimes disdaine not to direct the plough;
Lore heard, and up bis silver wings did heave, To follow through the fields the bleating lambe,
And said, “Write on, I freely give thee leave.” That mournes to misse the comfort of his dam.
Come then, all ye despis'd, that love endure, Assist the harvest, help to prune the trees į
I, that have felt the wounds, your love will cure; Graft, plant, and sow, no kind of labour leese.
But come at first, for if you make delay

Set nets for birds, with hook'd lines bait for fish, Your sicknesse will grow mortall by your stay; Which will imploy thy mind and fill thy dish; The tree, which by dclay is grown so big,

That being weary with these paines, at night In the beginning was a tender twig.

Sound sleeps may put the thoughts of love to fight. That wbich at first was but a span in length, With such delights, or labours, as are these, Will, by delay, be rooted past man's strength. Forget to love, and learne thy selfe to please. Resist beginnings, med'cines bring no curing, But chiefly learne this lesson, for my sake, Where sicknesse is grown strong by long endur- Fly from her far, some journey undertake; ing.

I know thou'lt grieve, and that her name once told, When first thou seest a lasse that likes thine eye, Will be enough thy journey to with-hold: Bend all thy present powers to descry

But when thou find'st thy selfe inost bent to stay, Whether her eye or carriage first would show Compell thy feet to run with thee away, If she be fit for love's delights, or no;

Nor do thou wish that raine or storiny weather Some will be easie, such an one elect;

May stay your steps, and bring you back together; But she that beares too grave and sterne aspect Count not the miles you passe, nor doubt the way, Take heed of her, and make her not thy jewell, Lest those respects should turne you back to stay, Either she cannot love, or will be cruell.

Tell not the clock, nor look not once behind, If lose assaile thee there, betime take heed, But fie like lightning, or the northerne wind; Those wounds are dangerous that inward bleed; For where we are too much o’rematcht in might, He that to day cannot shake off love's sorrow, There is no way for safeguard, but by fight. Will certainly be more unapt to morrow.

But some will count my lines too hard and bitter, Love bath so eloquent and quick a tongue,

I must confesse them hard; but yet 'tis better That he will lead thee all thy life along ;

To fast a while that health may be provok'd,
And on a sudden claspe thee in a yoke,

Than feed at plenteous tables and be choak’d.
Where ihou must either draw, or striving choak. To cure the wretched body, I am sure,
Strise then betimes, for at the first one hand Both fire and steele thou gladly wilt endure :
May stop a water drill that weares the sand; Wilt thou not then take paines by any art
But, if delayed, it breakes into a foud,

To cure thy mind, which is thy better part?
Drouotaines will hardly make the passage good; The hardnesse is at first, and that once past,
But I am out: for tiow I do begin

Pleasant and easie waies will come at last. To keep them off, not heale those that are in. I do not bid thee strive with witches' charmen, First therefore (lovers) I intend to show

Or such unholy acts, to cease thy harms :
How love came to you, then how he may go. Ceres her selfe, who all these things did know,
You that would not know what love's passions be, Had never power to cure her own love so:
Never be idle, learne that rule of me.

No, take this medicine, (which of all is sure)
Ease makes you love, as that o'recomes your wils, Labour and absence is the only cure.
Fase is the food and cause of all your ills.

But if the Fates compell thee, in such fashion,
Turne ease and idlenesse but out of doore, That thou must needs live neere ber habitation,
Love's darts are broke, his flame can burne no more. And canst not fie her sight, learne here of me,
As reeds and willows love the water's side, That thou would'st fajne, and canst not yet be
So Love loves with the idle to abide.

free.

Set all thy mistris' faults before thine eyes, And men are even as mad in their desiring,
And all thy own disgraces well advise ;

That oftentimes love women for their tyring;
Say to thy selfe, that "she is covetouis,

He that doth so, let bim take this advise, Hath ta'ne my gifts, and usd me thus, and thus; Let him rise early, and not being nice, Thus hath she swarne to me, and thus deceived; Up to his mistris chamber let him hie, Thus have I hope, and thus have been bereaved. E’re she arise, and there he shall espie With love she feeds my rivall, while I starve, Such a confusion of disordered things, And poures on him kisses, which I deserve: In bodies, jewels, tyres, wyres, lawnes, and rings, She follows him with smiles, and gives to me That sure it cannot choose but much abhor him, Sad looks, no lover's, but a stranger's fee.

To see her lye in peeces thus before him ; All those embraces I so oft desired,

And find those things shut in a painted box To him she offers daily unrequired, (gether, for which he loves her, and endures her mocks. Whose whole desert, and halfe mine, weigh'd to Once I my selfe had a great mind to see Would make mine lead, and his seem corke and What kind of things women undressed be, feather.”

And found my sweet-heart, just when I came at Then let her go, and since she proves so hard,

her, Regard thy selfe, and give her no regard.

Screwing in teeth, and dipping rags in water. Thus must tbou schoole thy selfe, and I could wish She miss'd her perriwig, and durst not stay, 'Thee to thy selfe most eloquent in this.

But put it on in haste the backward way; But put on griefe enough, and do not feare, That had I not on th’ sudden chang'd my mind, Griefe will enforce thy eloquence appeare. I had mistooke and kiss'd my love behind. Thus I my selfe the love did once expell

So, if thou wish her faults should rid thy cares, Of one whose coynesse vex'd my soule like Hell. Watch out thy time, and take her upawares: I must confesse she touch'd me to the quick, Or rather put the better way in proofe, And I, that am physitian, then was sick.

Come thou not neere, but keep thy selfe aloofe. But this I found to profit, I did still

If all this serve not, use one medicine more, Ruminate what I thought in her was ill;

Seek out another love, and her adore; And, for to cure my selfe, I found a way,

But choose out one, in whom thou well maiest see Some honest slanders on her for to lay:

A hcart inclin'd to love and cherisb thee. Quoth I, “ How lamely doth my mistris go!" For as a river parted slower goes, (Although, I must confesse, it was not so;) So, love, thus parted, still more evenly flores. I said, her armes were crooked, fingers bent, One anchor will not serve a vessell tall, Her shoulders bow'd, her legs consum'd and spent: Nor is one hooke enough to fish withall, Her colour sad, her neck as darke as night, He that can solace him, and sport with two, (When Venus might in all have ta'ne delight,) May in the end triumph as others do. But yet because I would no more come nigh her, Thou that to one hast shew'd thy selfe too kind, My selfe unto my selfe did thus belye her.

Maiest in a second much more comfort find; Do thou the like, and though she faire appeare, If one love entertaine thee with despight, Thinke, vice to vertue ofien comes too neere ; The other will embrace thee with delight: And in that errour (though it be an errour) When by the former thou art made accurst, Preserve thy selfe from any further terrour. The second will contend t'excell the first, If she be round and pluinpe, say shee's too fat; And strive, with love, to drive her from thy breast : If brown, say black, and think who cares for that ; | (" That first to second yields, women know best.") If she be slender, sweare she is too leane,

Or if to yeeld to either thou art loath, That such a wench will weare a man out cleane, This may perhaps acquit them of them both. If she be red, say, shee's too full of bloud; For what one love makes odde, two shall make even, If pale, her body nor her mind is good;

Thus blows with blows, and fire by fire's out driven. If wanton, say, she seeks thee to devoure; Perchance this course wiil turne thy first love's If grave, neglect her, say, she looks too sowre.

heart, Nay, if she have a fault, and thou dost know it, And when thine is at ease, cause hers to smart. Praise it, that in thy presence she may show it: If thy love's rivall stick so neere thy side, As if her voice be bad, crack'd in the ring, Thinke, women can copartners worse abide. Never give over till thou make her sing,

For though thy mistris never meanie to love thee, If she have any blemish in her foot,

Yet from the other's love she'l strive to move thee: Commend ber dancing still, and put her to't. But let her strive, she oft hath vex'd thy heart, If she be rude in speech, incite ber talke;

Suffer her now to beare her selfe a part. If haulting lame, provoke her much to walke. And though thy bowels burne like Ætua's fire, Or if on instruments she have small skill,

Seeme colder far than ice, or her desire; Reach down a viall, urge her to that still.

Paigne thy selfe free, and sigh not over much, Take any way to ease thy own distresse,

But laugh aloud when griefe thy heart doth touch. And think those faults be, which are nothing lesse; I do not bid thee breake through fire and fiame, Then meditate besides, what thing it is

Such violence in love is much too blame; That makes thee still in love to go amisse.

But I advise, that thou dissemble deep, Advise thee well, for as the world now goes And all thy passions in thine own brest keep. Men are not caught with substance, but with Faigne thy selfe well, and thou at last shalt see shows;

Thy selfe as well as thou didst faigne to be. Women are in their bodies turn'd to French, So have I often, when I would not drink, That face and body's least part of a weoch.

Sate down as one asleep, aud faign'd to wink, I know a woman hath in love been troubled Till, as I nodding sate, and tooke no heed, For that which taylors make, a fine neat doublet. l I have at last falue fast asleep judecd.

So base I oft been angry, faigning spight, As plainly to thy troubled phantasie
And counterfeiting smiles, have laught outright. As if she were in presence, and stood by.
So love, by use, doth come, by use doth go, This to eschew open thy doores all day,
And he that feignes well shall at length be so.

Shun no man's speech that comes into thy way.
If e're thy mistris promis'd to receive thee Admit all companies, and when there's none,
Into her bosoine, and did then deceive thee, Then walke thou forth thy selfe, and seek out one;
Locking thy rivall in, thee out of doore,

When he is found, seeke more, laugh, drinke, Be not dejected, seeme not to deplore,

Rather than be alone, do any thing. and sing; Nor when thou seest her next take notice of it,

Or if thou be constrain'd to be alone, But passe it over, it shall turne to profit :

Have not her picture for to gaze upon : For if she sees such tricks as these perplex thee, For that's the way, when thou art eas'd of paine, She will be proud, and take delight to vexe thee. To wound anew, and make thee sick againe. But if she prove thee constant in this kind, Or if thou hast it, thinke the painter's skill She will begin at length some sleights to find,

Flattered her face, and that she looks more ill; How she may draw thee back and keep thee still

And thinke as thou dost musing on it sit, A servile captive to her fickle will.

That she her selfe is counterfeit like it. But now take heed, here comes the proofe of men, Or rather fly all things that are inclin'd Be thou as constant as thou seemest then :

To bring one thought of her into thy mind. Receive no messages, regard no lines,

View not her tokens, nor thinke on her words, They are but snares to catch thee in her twines. But take some book, whose learned wombe affords Receive no gifts, thinke all that praise her flatter; Physic for soules, there search for some reliefe Whate're she writes, beleeve not halfe the matter. To guile the time, and rid away thy griefe. Converse not with her servant, nor her maid, But if thy thoughts on her must needs be bent, Scarce bid good morrow, lest thou be betray'd.

Thinke what a deale of precious time was spent When thou go'st by her doore, never look back, In quest of her; and that thy best of youth And though she call, do not thy journey slack;

Languish'd and died while she was void of truth. If she should send her friends to talk with thee,

Thinke but how ill she did deserve affection, Suffer them not too long to walke with thee.

And yet how long she held thee in subjection. Do not beleeve one word they say is sooth.

Thinke bow she chang'd, how ill it did become her, Nor do not aske so much as how she doth ;

And thinking so, leave love, and flie far from her, Yea, though thy very heart should burne to know, He that from all infection would be free, Bridle thy tongue, and make thereof no show;

Must, flie the place where the infected be. Thy carelesse silence shall perplex her more

And he that would from love's affection fie, Than can a thousand sighs sigh'd o're and o're;

Must leave his mistris' walks, and not come nigh, By saying thou lovest not, thy loving prove not, “ Sore eyes are got by looking on sore eyes, For he's far gone in love that saies I love not: And wounds do soon from new-heal'd scars arise." Then hold thy peace, and shortly love will die,

As embers touch'd with sulphurs do renew, That wound heals best that cures not by and by.

So will her sight kindle fresh flames in you. But some will say, “ Alas, this rule is hard,

If then thou meet'st her, snffer her go by thee, Must we not love where we may find reward?

And be afraid to let her come too nigh thee: How should a tender woman beare this scorne For her aspect will raise desire in thee, That cannot, without art, by men be borne ?" And hungry men scarce hold from meat they see. Mistake me not; I do not wish you show

If e're she sent thee letters, that lie by, Such a contempt to them whose love you know:

Peruse them not, they'l captivate thy eye: But where a scornfull lasse makes you endure

But lap them up, and cast them in the fire, Her slight regarding, there I lay my cure,

And wish, as they waste, so may thy desire. Nor think in leaving love you wrong your lasse,

If e're thou sent'st her token, gift, or letter, Who one to her content already has ;

Go not to fetch them back; for it is better While she doth joy in him, joy thou in any,

That she detain a little paltry pelfe, (selfe. Thou bast, as well as she, the choice of many.

Than thou shouldst seeke for them, and lose thy Then, for thy own contempt, defer not long, For why ?her sight will so enchant thy heart, But care thy selfe, and she shall have no wrong.

That thou wilt lose thy labour, I my art. Among all cures I chiefly did commend

But if by chance there fortune such a case, Absence in this to be the only friend.

Thou needs must come where she shall be in place; And so it is, but I would have ye learne

Then call to mind all parts of this discourse, The perfect use of absence to discerne.

For sure thou shalt have need of all thy force : First then, when thou art absent to her sight, Against thou goest, curle not thy head and haire, lo solitarinesse do not delight:

Nor care whether thy band be foule or faire ; Be seldome left alone, for then I know

Nor be not in so neat and spruce array A thousand vexing thoughts will come and go.

As if thou mean'st to make it holiday ;
Fly lovely walkes, and uncouth places sad, Neglect thy selfe for once, that she may sce
They are the purse of thoughts that make men mad; Her love bath now no power to worke on thee.
Walk not too much where thy fond eye may see

And if thiy rivall be in presence too,
The place where she did give love's rights to thee: Seeme not to marke, but do as others do;
Por even the place will tell thee of those joyes,

Salute him friendly, give him gentle words,
And turne thy kisses into sad andoies.

Returne all curtesies tbat he affords : Frequent not woods and groves, nor sit and muse

Drinke to him, carve him, give him complement With arines acrosse, as foolish lovers use :

This shall thy mistris, more than thee, torment: For as thou sitt'st alone, thou soone shalt find For she will think by this, thy careless show, Tby mistris' face presented to thy mind,

Thou car'st not now whether she love or no

But if thou canst perswade thy selfe indeed And if she bid thee home, straight promise not, She hath no lover, but of thee hath need; Or breake thy word, as if thou hadst forgot. That no man loves her but thy selfe alone,

Seeme not to care whether thou come or no, And that she shall be lost when thou art gone; And if she be not earnest, do not go. Thus sooth thy selfe, and thou shalt seeme to be Peigne thou hast businesse, and defer the meeting, In far more happy taking than is she.

As one that greatly card not for her greeting, For if thou think'st she's lov'd, and loves againe, And as she talkes, cast thou thine eyes elsewhere, Hell fire will seeme more easie than thy paine: And look among the lasses that are there. But chiefly when in presence thou shalt spie Compare their severall beauties to her face, The man she most affecteth standing by,

Some one or other will her forme disgrace ; And see him graspe her by the tender hand, On both their faces carry still thy view, And whispering close, or almost kissing stand; Ballance them equally in judgement true : When thou shalt doubt whether they laugh at thee, And when thou find'st the other doth excel, Or whether on some meeting they agree ;

(Yet that thou canst not love it halfe so well) If now thou canst hold out, thou art a man, Blush that thy passions make thee dote on her And canst performe more than thy teacher can: More than on those thy judgement doth prefer; If then thy beart can be at ease and free,

When thou hast let her speake all that she would, I will give o're to teach, and learne of thee. Seeme as thou hast not one word understood: But this way I would take among them all, And when to part with thee thou seest her bent, I would pick out some lasse to talke withall, Give her some ordinary complement, Whose quick inventions, and whose nimble wit, Such as may seeme of courtesie, not love; Should busie mine, and keep me from my fit: And so 10 other companie remove. My eye with all my art should be a wooing, This carelesnesse in which thou seem'st to be, No matter what I said, so I were doing ;

(Howe're in her) will worke this change in thee, For all that while my love should thinke at least That thou shalt thinke, for using her so slight, That I, as well as she, on love did feast.

She cannot chuse but turne her love to spight: And though my heart were thinking of her face, And if thou art perswaded once she hates, Or her unkindnesse, and my own disgrace, Thou wilt beware, and not come neere her baits & Of all my present paines by her neglect,

But though I wish thee constantly beleeve Yet would I laugh, and seem without respect. She hates thy sight, thy passions to deceive ; Perchance, in envy thou shouldst sport with any, Yet be not thou so base to hate her too, Her beck will single thee from forth of many : That which seems ill in her do not thou do; But, if thou canst, of all that present are,

'Twill indiscretion seeme, and want of wit, Her conference alone thou shouldst forbeare; Where thou didst love, to bate instead of it; For if her looks so much thy mind do trouble, And thou maiest sbame ever to be so mated, Her honied speeches will distract thee double. And joyn'd in love with one that should be hated a If she begin once to confer with thee,

Such kind of love is fit for clownes and hinds, Then do as I would do, be ruld by me:

And not for debonaire and gentle minds; When she begins to talke, imagine straight, For can there be in man a madnesse more That now to catch thee up she lies in wait ; Than hate those lips he wish'd to kisse before ? Then call to mind some businesse or affaire, Or loath to see those eyes, or heare that voice, Whose doubtfull issue takes up all thy care ; Whose very sound hath made his heart rejoice? That while such talke thy troubled fancies stirs, Such acts as these much indiscretion shows, Thy mind may worke, and give no heed to hers. When men froin kissing turne to wish for blows: Alas! I know men's hearts, and that full soone, And this their own example shews so naught, By women's gentle words we are un lone.

That when they should direct they must be taught If women siglı or weep, our soules are griev'd, But thou wilt say, “ For all the love I bea re her, Or if they sweare they love, they are beleerd; And all the service, I am ne're the nearer:" But trust not thou to oatbs if she should sweare, And which thee most of all doth vexe like Hell, Nor hearty sighs, beleeve they dwell not there. “ She lores a man ne're lov'd her halfe so well: If she should grieve in earnest, or in jest,

Him she adores, but I must not come at her, Or force her arguments with sad protest,

Have I not then good reason for to hate her?" As if true sorrow in her eye-lid sate;

I answer, No; for make the case thine owne, Nay, if she come to weeping, trust not that ; And in thy glasse her actions shall be showne: For know, that women can both weep and smile When thou thy selfe in love wert so far gone, With much more danger than the crocodile. Say, could'st thou love any but her alone ? Thinke all she doth is but to breed thy paine, I know thou couldst not, tho' with tcares and cried And get the power to tyrannize againe.

These had made deafe thine eares, and dim thino And she will beat thy heart with trouble more

eyes: Than rocks are beat with waves upon the shore. Would'st thou for this that they bate thee againe, Do not complaine to her then of thy wrong, If so, thou wouldst then hate thy love againe : But lock thy thoughts within thy silent tongue. Your faults are both alike; thou lovest her, Tell her not why thou leav'st her, nor declare And she, in love, thy rivall doth prefer: (Although she ask thee) what thy torments are. If then her love to him thy hate procure, Wring not her fingers, gaze not on her eye, Thou shouldst for loving her like hate endure : From thence a thousand snares and arrows ilye. Then do not hate, for all the lines I write Lo, let her not perceive, by sighs or signes, Are pot address'd to turne thy love to spight, How at her deeds thy inward soule repines. But writ to draw thy doting mind froin love, Seeme carelesse of her speech, and do not harke, That in the golden meane thy thoughts moj Answer by chance, as though thou didst not marke.

pove; .

to which, when once thou find'st thy selfe at quiet, Use thy selfe much to bath thy wanton limbs Learne to preserve thy selfe with this good diet. In coolest streams, which o're the gravell swims ::

Be still in gravest company, and flye

The wanton rabble of the younger fry,
THE CONCLUSION.

Whose lustfull tricks will lead thee to delight,

To thinke on love, where thou shalt perish quite; SLEEP not too much, nor longer than asleep Come not at all where many women are, Within thy bed thy lazie body keep;

But like a bird that lately scap'd the snare, For when thou warme awake shalt feele it soft, Avoyd their garish heauty, fly with speed, Fond cogitations will assajle thee oft :

And learne by her that lately made thee bleed; Then start up early, study, worke, or write, Be not too much alone; but if alone, Let labour (others' toyle) be thy delight.

Get thee some modest booke to looke upon; Eat not too much, for if thou much dost eat, But do not read the lines of wanton men, Let it not be dainty or stirring meat :

Poetry sets thy mind on fire agen: Abstaine from wine, altho' thou thinke it good, Abstaine from songs and verses, and take hood It sets thy meat pn fire, and stirs thy blond ; That not a line of love thou ever read,

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