Sivut kuvina

Into such furrowes? Why dost thou appeare

Cautious she kner never yet
So shaking like an ague to the yeare?

What a wanton courtship meant;
The Sanne is gone. But vet Castara stayes, Not speaks loud to boast her wit,
And will adde stature to thy piginy dayes, (bring in her silence eloquent.
Warme moysture to thy veynes: her smile can Of her self survey she takes,
Thee the sweet youth, and beauty of the spring. But 'tweene men no difference makes.
Hence with thy palsie then, and on thy head

She obeyes with speedy will
Weare torrie chaplets as a bridegroome led

Her grave parents' wise commands. To th' hoiy fane. Bauish thy aged ruth,

And so innocent, that ill, That virgins may admire and court thy youth.

She nor acts, nor understands. And the approaching Sunne when she shall finde

Women's feet rupne still astray,
A spring without him, fall, since uselesse, blinde.

If once to ill they know the way.
She sailes by that rocke, the court,
Where oft honour splits her mast:
And retir'dnesse thinks the port,

Where her fame may anchor cast.

Vertue safely cannot sit, "Twas night: when Phæbe guided by thy rayes,

Where vice is enthron'd for wit. Chaste as my zeale, with inceuce of her praise,

She holds that daye's pleasure best, I humbly crept to my Castara's shrine.

Where sinne waits not on delight, But oh my fond mistake! for there did shine

Without maske, or ball, or feast, A noone of beauty, with such lustre crowu’d,

Sweetly spends a winter's night. As showd 'mong th' impious onely night is found.

O're that darknesse, whence is thrust,
It was her eyes which like two diamonds shin'd,

Prayer and sleepe oft governs lust.
Brightest i'th’dark. Like which could th' Indian
But one among his rocks, he would out vie (find, She her throne makes reason climbe,
In brightnesse all the diamonds of the skie. While wild passions captive lie.
But when her lips did ope, the phenix' nest

And each article of time,
Breath'd forth her odours; where might love once Her pare thoughts to Heaven flie:
Hee'd loath his heavenly serfets: if we dare. [feast,

All her vowes religious be,
Affirme, love hath a Heaven without my faire. Aud her love she vowes to me.






Vatumque lascivos triumphos
Calcat amor, pede conjugali.

Why would you blash Castara, when the name
Of Love you heare? who never felt his fame,
I'th' shade of melancholly night doth stray,
A blind Cymmerian banisht from the day.
Let's chastly love Castara, and not soyle
This virgin lampe, by powring in the oyle
Of impure thoughts. O let us sympathize,
And onely talke i'th' language of our eyes,
Like two starres in conjunction. But beware
Lest th’angels who of love compacted are,
Viewing how chastly burnes thy zealous fire,
Should snatch thee hence, to joyne thee to their
Yet take thy fight: on Forth for surely we [qnire.
So joyn'd, in Heaven cannot divided be.


Like the violet which alone
Prospers in some happy shade:
My Castara lives unknowne,
To no looser eye betray'd,

Por shee's to her selfe untrue,

Who delights i'th' publicke view.
Such is her beauty, as no arts
Have enricht with borrowed grace.
Her high birth no pride imparts,
For she blushes in her place.

Folly boasts a glorious blood,
She is noblest being good.

Is the sweetest part in the harmony of our being.

To the love of which, as the charmes of Nature inchant us, so the law of Grace by speciall priviledge invites us.

Without her, man if piety not restraine hiin; is the creator of sinne; or, if an innated cold render him not onely the businesse of the present age; the murderer of posterity. She is so religious that every day crownes her a martyr, and her zeale neither rebellious nor uncivill. Shee is so true a friend, her husband may to her communicate even his ambitions, and if successe crowne not expectation, remaine neverthelesse uncontemn'd. Shee is colleague with him in the empire of prosperity; and a safe retyring place when ailversity exiles him from the world. Shee is so chaste, she never understoorl the language lust speakes in; nor with a smile applaudes it, although there appeare wit in the metaphore. Shce is faire onely to winne on his affections, nor would she be mistris of the most eloqnent beauty; if there were danger, that might perswade the passionate auditory, to the least irregular thought. T'incounter his brave heat; how great a fame Shee is noble by a long descent, but her me- From their brests meeting, on the sudden came? mory is so evill a herald, shee never boasts The Stoike, who all easie passion flies, the story of her ancestors. Shee is so mo- Could he but heare the language of their eyes, derately rich, that the defect of portion doth As he recies would from his faith remove neither bring penury to his estate, nor the The tenets of bis sect, and practise love. superfluity licence her to riot. Shee is liberall, The barb'rous nations which supply the Earth and yet owes not ruine to vanity, but knowes With a promiscuous and ignoble birth, charily to be the soule of goodnesse, and ver- Wonid by this precedent correct their life, tue without reward often prone to bee her owne Each wisely choose, and chastely love a wife. destroyer. Shee is much at home, and when Princes' example is a law. Then we, shee visits 'tis for mutuall commerce, not for If loyall subjects, must true lovers be. intelligence. Shee can goe to court, and returne no passionate doater on bravery; and when shee hath seene the gay things muster up them

TO ZEPHIRUS. selves there, shee considers them as cobwebs the spider vanity hath spunne.

Shee is so

Wuose whispers, soft as those which lovers breath, generall in her acquaintance, that shee is fami- Castara and my selfe, I here bequeath, liar with all whom fame speakes vertuous; but To the calme wind. For Heaven such joyes afford thinkes there can bee no friendship but with To her and me, that there can be no third. one; and therefore bath neither shiee friend nor And you, kinde starres, be thriftier of your light: private servant. Shee so squares her passion to Her eyes supply your office with more bright her husband's fortunes, that in the countrey sbee And constant lustre. Angels guardians, like lives without a froward melancholly, in the The nimbler ship boyes, shall be joy'd to strike towne withont a fantastique pride. She is so Or hoish up saile : nor shall our vessell more temperate, she never read the moderne pollicie By card or compasse, but a heavenly love. of glorious surfeits: since she finds nature is ro

The couresie of this more prosperous gale epicure if art provoke her not by curiositie. Shall swell our canvas, and wee'le swiftly saile Shee is inquisitive onely of new wayes to please 'To some blest port, where ship hath never lane bim, and her wit sayles by no other conspasse

At anchor, whose chaste soile no foot prophane than that of his direction. Shee lookes upon

Hath ever trod; where Nature doth dispence him as conjurers upon the circle, beyond which Her infant wealth, a beautious innocence. there is nothing but Death and Hell; and in him Pompe, (even a barthen to it self) nor pride, shee beleeves Paradice circumscrib'd. His ver- (The magistrate of sinnes) did e're abide tues are her wonder and imitation; and his On that so sacred earth. Ambition pe're errors, her credulitje thinkes no more frailtie, Built, for the sport of ruine, fabrickes there. than makes bim descend to the title of nian. Thence age and death are exil'd, all offt nce In a word, shee so lives that shee may dye, And sear expellid, all boyse and faction thence and leave no cloude upon her memory, but

A silence there so melancholly sweet, have her character nobly mentioned: wbile the That pone but whispring tarlles ever meet : bad wife is Aattered into infamy, and buyes Thus Paradise did our first parents wooe pleasure at too deare a rate, if slice onely payes To harmelesse sweets, at first possest by two. for it repeutance.

And o're this second wee'le usurpe the throue;
Castara wee'le obey, and rule alone.

For the rich vertue of this soyle, I feare,

Would be deprar'd, should but a third be there.


This day is ours. The marriage angell now
Ses th' altar in the odour of our row, rinores Forsake me not so soone.

Castara, stay,
Yeeld a more precious breath, than that which and as I breake the prison of my clay,
The whispring leaves in the Panchayon groves.

lle 6ll the canvas with m'expiring breath, View how his temples shine, on which he weares And with thee saile o're the vast maine of Death. A wreath of pearle, made of those precious teares

Some cherubia thus, as we passc, shall play: Thou wepst a virgin, when crosse winds did blow, “ Goc, happy twins of love! the courteous sea Our hopes disturbing in their quiet Aow.

Shall smooth her wrinkled brow: the winds shal But now Castara smile, no envious night

Or onely wbisper musicke to the deepe. (sleep, Dares enterpose it selfe, t'eclipse the light Every uogentle rocke shall melt away, Of our cleare joyes. For even the laws divine The Syrens sing to please, not to betray. Permit our mutuall love so to entwine,

Th' indulgent skie shall smile: each starry quire That kings, to vallance true content, shall say; Contend, which shall afford the brighter fire." " Would they were great as we, we blest as they." While Love, the pilot, steeres his course so even,

Ne're to cast anchor till we reach at Heaven.



CASTARA BEING SICKL. Did you not see, Castara, when the king (bring Hence, prophane grim man! nor dare Met his lov'd queene; what sweetnesse she did To approach so deere my faire.

Marble vaults, and gloomy caves,

T'adore my genius. Of this wine should Prynne Church-yards, charnell-houses, graves,

Drioke but a plenteous glasse, he would beginne Where the living loath to be,

A health to Shakespeare's ghost. But you may Heaven hath design'd to thee.

bring But if needs 'mongst us thou'lt rage,

Some excuse forth, and answer me, the king Let thy fury feed on age.

To day will give you audience, or that on Wrinckled browes, and withered thighs,

Affaires of state you and some serious don May supply thy sacrifice.

Are to resolve ; or else perhaps you'le sin Yet, perhaps, as thou few'st by,

So farre, as to leave word y' are not within. A flamed dart, shot from her eye,

The least of these will make me onely thinke Sing'd thy wings with wanton fire,

Him subtle, who can in his closet drmke, Whence th' art forc't to hover nigh her.

Drunke even alone, and, thus made wise, create If Love so mistooke his aimne,

As dangerous plots as the Low Countrey state, Gently welcome in the flame :

Projecting for such baits, as shall draw ore They who loath'd thee, when they see

To Holiand all the herrings from our shore. Where thou harbor'st, will love thee.

But y'are too full of cavdour: and I know Onely I, such is my fate,

Will sooner stones at Salis'bury casements throw, Must thce as a rivall hate;

Or buy up for the silenc'd Levits all Court her gently, learn to prove

The rich impropriations, than let pall Nimble in the thefts of love.

So pure Canary, and breake such an oath: Gaze on th' errors of her haire :

Since charity is sinn'd against in both. Tonch her lip; but, oh! beware,

Come, therefore, blest even in the Lollards' zeale, Lest too ravenous of thy blisse,

Who canst, wiih conscience safe, 'fore ben and veale Thou shouldst murder with a kisse.

Say grace in Latine; while I faintly sing
A penitentiall verse in oyle and ling.

Come, then, and bring with you, prepard for fight,

Inmixt Canary, Heaven send both prove right!

This I am sure: my sacke will disingage

All humane thoughis, inspire so high a rage, SLEEPB, my Castara, silence doth invite

That Hypocre ne shall henceforth poets lacke,
Thy eyes to close up day; though envious Night Since more enthusiasises are in my sacke.
Grieres Fate should her the sight of them debarre, Heightned with which, my raptures shall commend,
For she is exil'd, while they open are.

How good Castara is, box deare my friend.
Rest in thy peace secure. With drowsie charmes
Kinde Sleepe bewitcheth thee into her armes;
And finding where Love's chiefest treasure lies,

Is like a theefe stole under thy bright cycs.
Thy innocence, rich as the gaudy quilt (guilt
Wrought by the Persian hand, thy dreames from CASTARA, whisper in some dead man's pare
Exempted, Heaven with sweete repose doth crowne This subtili quære ; and hec'le point out where,
Each vertue softer than the swan's fam'd downe. By auswers negative, true joyes abide.
As exorcists wild spirits mildly lay,

Hee'le say they fow not on th' uprertaine lide May sleepe thy fever calmely chase away. Of greatnesse, they can no firme basis have

V pou the tripidation of a wave.

Nor lurke they in the caverns of the earth,

Whence all the wealthy minerals draw their birth,

To covetous man so fatall. Nor i'th' grace She is restor'd to life. V'nthrifty Death,

Love they to wanton of a brighter face, Thy mercy in permitting vitall breath

For th’are above time's battery, and the light Backe to Castara, hath enlarg'd us all,

Of beauty, age's cloud will soone be night. Whom griefe had martyrd in her funerall.

If among these content, he thus doth prove, While others in the ocean of their teares

Hath no abode; where dwells it but in love?
Had, sinking, wounded the beholders' earts
With exclamations: I, without a grone,
Had suddenly congeal'd into a stone:

There stood a statue, till the general doome;
Had ruin'd time and memory with her tombe.

FORSAKE with me the Earth, my faire,
Wbile in my heart, which marble, yet still bled, And travell nimbly through the aire,
Each lover might this epitaph have read :

Till we have reacht th' adıniring skies; “ Her earth lyes here below; her soul's above,

Then lend sight to those heavenly eyes This wonder speakes her vertue, and my love." Which, blind themselves, make creatures see.

And taking view of all, when we

Shall finde a pure aud glorious spheare,

Wee'le fix like starres for ever there.

Nor will we still each other view,

Wee'le gaze on lesser starres than you;
May you drinke beare, or that adult'rate wine See how by their weake infuence they
Which makes the zeale of Amsterdam divine, 'The strongest of men's actions sway.
If you make breach of promise. I have now In an inferiour orbe below
So ricb a sacke, that eren your selfe will bow Wee'le see Calisto loosely throw



Her haire abroad: as she did weare

Laid onely downe to slumber. Then forbeare The selfe-same beauty in a beare,

To let on her blest ashes fall a teare. As wben she a cold virgin stood,

But if th’art too much woman, softly weepe, And yet inflam'd love's Justfull blood.

Lest griefe disturbe the silence of her sleepe.
Then looke on Lede, whose faire beames,
By their reliection, guild those streames,
Where first unhappy she began

To play the wanton with a swan.
If each of these loose beauties are
Transform'd to a more beauteous starre

What's death more than departure? The dead go By the adult'rous lust of love ;

Like travelling exiles, compellid to know
Why should not we, by purer love?

Those regions they heard mention of: 'tis th' art
Of sorrowes, sares, who dye doe but depart.
Then weepe thy funerall leares: Which Heaven,

ť adorne

The beauteous tresses of the weeping morne,

Will rob me of: and thus my tombe shall be VPON THE DEATH OF A LADY,

As naked, as it had no obsequie. CASTARA, weepe not, tho' her tombe appeare

Know in these lines, sad musicke to thy eare, Sometime tny griefe to answer with a teare :

My sad Castara, you the sermon here 'The marble will but wanton with thy woe.

Which I preach o're my hearse: and dead, I tell Death is the sea, and we like rivers flow

My owne live's story, ring but my owne knell. To lose our selves in the insatiate maine,

But when I shall returne, know 'tis thy breath, Whence rivers may, she ne're returne againe.

In sighs divided, rescues me from death.
Nor grieve this christall streame so soone did fall
Into the ocean ; since shee perfum'd all
The banks she past, so that each neiglıbour field

Did sweete flowers cherish by her watring, yeeld,

WEEPING. Which now adorne her hearse. The violet there

CASTARA! O you are too prodigall On her pale cheeke doth the sad livery weare, Which Heaven's compassion gave her: and since Make no returne: well plac'd calme peace might

O'th' treasure of your teares; which, thus let fall, she,

bring 'Cause cloath'd in purple, can no mourner be,

To the loud wars, each free a captiv'd king. As incense to the tombe she gives her breath,

So the unskilfull Indian those bright jems, And fading on her lady waits in death :

Which might adde majestie to diadems, Such office the Ægyptian handmaids did

'Mong the waves scatters, as if he would store Great Cleopatra, when she dying chid

The thanklesse sea, to make our empire poore: The asp's slow venom, trembling she should be

When Heaven darts thunder at the wombe of time, By Fate rob'd even of that blacke victory.

'Cause with each moment it brings forth a crime, The flowers instruct our sorrowes. Come, then, all

Or else despairing to root out abuse, Ye beauties, to true beautie's funerall,

Would ruine vitions Earth ; be then profuse. And with her to increase death's pompe, decay.

Light chas'd rude chaos from the world before, Since the supporting fabricke of your clay

Thy, teares, by hindring its returne, Korke more. Is falne, how can ye stand ? How can the night Show stars, when Fate puts out the daye's great light?

TO CASTARA, But 'mong tbe faire, if there live any yet,

PON A CIGI. She's but the fairer Digbie's counterfeit. Come you, who speake your titles. Reade in this I heard a sigh, and something in my eare Pale booke, how vaine a boast your greatnesse is ! Did whisper, what my soule before did feare, What's honour but a hatchment? What is here That it was breath'd by thee. May th’easie Spring, Of Percy left, and Stanly, names most deare

Enricht with odours, wanton on the wing To vertue ! but a crescent turn'd to th' wane,

Of th'easterne wind, may ne're his beauty fade, An eagle groaning o're an infant slaine ?

If he the treasure of this breath convey'd : Or what availes her, that she once was led, 'Twas thine by th' musicke which th' harmonious A glorious bride, to valiant Digbie's bed,

breath Since death hath them divorc'ú? If then alive Of swans is like, propheticke in their death: There are, who these sad obseqnies survive,

And th' odour, for as it the nard expires, And vaunt a proud descent, they onely be

Perfuming, phenix-like, his funerall fires.
Loud heralls to set forth her pedigree.

The winds of Paradice send such a gale,
Come all, who glory in your wealth, and view To make the lover's vessels calmely sajle
The embleme of your frailty! How untrue To his lor'd port. This shall, where it inspires,
(Tho' fattering like friends) your treasures are, Increase the chaste, extinguish unchaste fires.
Her fate hath taught : who, when what ever rare
The either Indies boast, lay richly spread
For her to weare, lay on her pillow dead.
Come likewise, my Castara, and behold,

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LADY F. What blessings ancient prophesie foretold,

Bestow'd on her in death.
She past away

You saw our loves, and prais'd the mutuall fame: So sweetly from the world, as if her clay

In wbich as incense to your sacred name







Burnes a religious zeale. May we be lost

To one another, and our fire be frost,
When we omit to pay the tribute due
To worth and vertue, and in them to you :

WERE but that sigh a penitentiall breath
Who are the soule of women. Others be

That thou art mine, it would blow with it death, But beauteous parts o'th' feinale body: she

T'inclose me in my marble, where I'de be Who boasts how many nimble Cupids skip

Slave to the tyrant wormes, to set thee free. Through her bright face, is but an eye or lip;

What should we envy? Though with larger saile The other, who in her soft brests can show

Some dance upon the ocean; yet more fraile Warme violets growing in a banke of snow,

And faithlesse is that wave, than where we glide,

Blest in the safety of a private tide.
And vaunts the lovely wonder, is but skin:
Nor is she but a hand, who holds within

We still have land in ken; and 'cause our boat The chrystall violl of her wealthy palme,

Dares not affront the weather, wee'le ne're Aoat The precious sweating of the easterne balme.

Farre from the shore. To daring them each cloud And all these, if you them together take,

Is big with thunder, every wind speaks loud. And joyne with art, will but one body make,

And rough wild rockes about the shore appeare,

Yet virtue will find roome to anchor there.
To which the soule each vitall motion gives ;
You are infus'd into it, and it lives.
But should you up to your blest mansion flie,
How loath'd an object would the carkasse lie ?

You are all mind. Castara, when she lookes
On you, th' epitome of all, that bookes
Or e're tradition taught; who gives such praise
Vnto your sex, that now even cnstome sayes

CASTARA, you too fondly court
He hath a female soule, who ere hath writ

The silken peace with which we cover'd are :
Volumes which learning comprehend, and wit. Unquiet Time may, for his sport,
Castara cries to me: “ Search out and find

Up from its iron den rouse sleepy Warre.
The mines of wisdome in her learned mind,
And trace her steps to bonour : 1 aspire

Then, in the language of the drum,
Enougla to worth, while I her worth admire.” I will instruct my yet affrighted eare :

All women shall in me be dumbe,

If I but with my Araphill be there.

If Pate, like an unfaithfull gale,

Which having vow'd to th' ship a faire event, Why should we build, Castara, in the aire

O'th' sudden rends her hopefull saile,
Of fraile Opinion? Why admire as faire,

Blow ruine: will Castara then repent?
What the weake faith of man give us for right?
The jugling world cheats but the weaker sight.
What is in greatnesse happy? As free mirth,

Love shall in that tempestuous showre [show:

Her brightest blossome like the black-thorne
As ample pleasures of th' indulgent Earth,
We joy who on the ground our mansion finde,

Weake friendship prospers by the powre
Of Fortune's sunne.

l'le in her winter grow. As they, who saile like witches in the wind Of court applause. What can their powerfull spell

ARAPHILL. Over inchanted man more than compe!

If on my skin the noysome skar Hiin into various formes ? Nor serves their charme I should o'th' leprosie or canker weare; Themselves to good, but to worke others harme. Or if the sulph'rvus breath of warre (feare? Tyrant Opinion but depose; and we

Should blast my youth : should I not be thy Will absolute i'th' happiest empire be,

In Mesh mag sicknesse horror move,

But heavenly zeale will be by it refin'd;

For then wee'd like two angels love,

Without a sense; embrace each other's mind.

ARAPHILL. CASTARA, see that dust, the sportive wind

Were it not impious to repine, So wantons with. 'Tis happ'ly all you'le finde 'Gainst rigid Fate I should direct my breath: Left of some beauty: and how still it Hies, i That two must be, whom Heaven did joyne To trouble, as it did in life, our eyes.

In such a happy one, disjoin’d by death. O empty boast of Mesh! though our heires gila

CASTARA. The farre frutch Phrigian marble, which shall build

That's no divource. Then shall we see A burthen to our ashes, yet will death

The rites in life, were types o'th' marriage state, Betray them to the sport of every breath.

Our souls on Earth contracted be: Dost thou, poore relique of our frailty, still

But they in Heaven their nuplials consumate. Swell up with glory? Or is it thy skill To mocke weake man, whom every wind of praise Into the aire doth 'bore his center raise?

TO THE RIGHT HONOURALE LORD M. If so, mocke on; and tell him that his lust To beauti's madnesse: for it courts but dust.

MY LORD, My thoughts are not so rugged, nor doth carth so farre predominate in me, that mirth




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