The ingredients were divers, and most of them new,
No vertue was judg'd in an antient thing:
In the garden of Leyden some part of them grew,
And some did our own universities bring.
Imprimis, two handfull of long digressions,

Well squeezed and press'd at Amsterdam,
They cured Buchanan's dangerous passions,
Each grocer's shop now will afford you the same.
Two ounces of Calvinisme not yet refin'd,

By the better physicians not thought to be good; But 'twas with the seal of a conventicle sign'd, And approv'd by the simpling brotherhood. One quarter of practicall piety next,

[Styx.

With an ounce and a half of histrio-mastrix, Three sponfull of T. C's confuted text, Whose close-noated ghost hath long ago past

Next stript whipt abuses were cast in the pot,

With the worm eaten motto not now in fashion,
All these in the mouth are wondrous hot,
But approvedly cold in operation.

Next Clever and Doddisme both mixed and fine,
With five or six scruples of conscience cases,
Three drams of Geneva's strict discipline,

All steept in the sweat of the silenc'd faces.
One handfull of doctrines, and uses, or more,
With the utmost branch of the fifteenth point,
Then duties enjoyn'd and motives good store,
All boyl'd to a spoonfull, though from a siz'd
pint.

These all have astringent and hard qualities,
And for notable binders received be,

To avoid the costiveness thence might arise,
She allay'd them with Christian liberty.
The crumbs of comfort did thicken the mess,
'Twas turn'd by the frown of a sowre fac'd brother,
But that you will say converts wickedness,
'Twill serve for the one as well as the other."
An ell London-measure of tedious grace,
Was at the same time conceiv'd, and said,
'Twas eat with a spoon defi'd with no face,
Nor the imag'ry of an apostle's head.

Sir John after this could have stood down the Sun,
Dividing the pulpit and text with one fist,
The glass was compell'd still rubbers to run,
And he counted the fift Evangelist.

The pig that for haste, much like a devout

Entranced brother, was wont to come in
With white staring eyes, not quite roasted out,
Came now in a black persecution skin.

Stale mistris Priscilla her apron-strings straite
Let down for a line just after his cure:

Sir John did not nibble, but pouch'd the deceit :
An advouzon did bait him to make all sure.

ON A GENTLEWOMAN'S SILK-HOOD.

Is there a sanctity in love begun
That every woman veils, and turns lay-nun?
Alas your guilt appears still through the dress
You do not so much cover as confess :

Too late, I now recall,

The gods foretold me this thy fall;

I grasp'd thee in my dream,

And loe thou meltd'st into a stream;

But when they will surprise,

They shew the fate, and blind the eyes.
Which wound shall I first kiss?
Here? there? or that? or this?
Why gave he not the like to me,

That wound by wound might answer'd be? We would have joyntly bled, by griefs ally'd, And drank each other's soul, and so have dy'd.

In silent groves below

Thy bleeding wounds thou now dost show;
And there perhaps to fame
Deliver'st up Parthenia's name;
Nor do thy loves abate.

O gods! O stars! O death! O fate!
But thy proud spoyler here

Doth thy snatch'd glories wear;
And big with undeserv'd success

Swels up his acts, and thinks fame less ;
And counts my groans not worthy of relief,
O hate! O anger! O revenge! O grief!

Parthenia then shall live,
And something to thy story give.
Revenge inflame my breast
To send thy wand'ring spirit rest.
By our !ast tye, our trust,

Our one mind, our one faith I must:

By my past hopes and fears,

My passions, and my tears; By these thy wounds (my wounds) I vow, And by thy ghost, my griefe's god now, I'l not revoke a thought. Or to thy tomb My off'ring he, or I his crime will come.

ARIADNE DESERTED BY THESEUS,

AS SHE SITS UPON A ROCK IN THE ISLAND NAXOS, THUS
COMPLAINS.

THESEUS! O Theseus heark! but yet in vain,
Alas deserted I complain,

It was some neighbouring rock, more soft than he,
Whose hollow bowels pittied me,

And yet, O nymphs below who sit,

In whose swift flouds his vows he writ; Snatch a sharp diamond from the richer mines, And in some mirrour grave these sadder lines, Which let some god convey To him, that so he may

In that both read at once, and see
Those looks that caus'd my destiny.
In Thetis' arms I Ariadne sleep,

Drown'd first by my own tears, then in the deep;
Twice banished, first by love, and then by hate,
The life that I preserv'd became my fate;
Who leaving all, was by him left alone,
That from a monster freed himself prov'd one.

That then I-But look! O mine eyes
Be now true spies,
Yonder, yonder,
Comes my dear,
Now my wonder,
Once my fear,

See satyrs dance along
In a confused throng,

Whiles horns' and pipes' rude noise
Do mad their lusty joyes,

Roses his forehead crown,
And that recrowns the flow'rs,
Where he walks up and down
He makes the desarts bow'rs,
The ivy, and the grape

Hide, not adorn his shape.
And green leaves cloath his waving rod,
'Tis either Theseus, or some god.

NO DRAWING OF VALENTINES.

CAST not in Chloe's name among
The common undistinguish'd throng,
I'l neither so advance

The foolish raign of chance,
Nor so depress the throne
Whereon love sits alone:

If I must serve my passions, I'l not owe
Them to my fortune; ere I love, I'l know.
Tell me what god lurks in the lap
To make that councel, we call hap?
What power conveighs the name?
Who to it adds the flame?
Can he raise mutuall fires,
And answering desires?

None cau assure me that I shall approve
Her whom I draw, or draw her whom I love.

No longer then this feast abuse.

You choose and like, I like and choose;
My flame is try'd and just,
Yours taken up on trust.
Hail thus blest Valentine,

And may my Chloe shine

To me and none but me, as I beleeve

We ought to make the whole year but thy eve.

TO LYDIA,

WHOM MEN OBSERV'd to MAKE TOO MUCH OF ME. I TOLD YOU, Lydia, how 'twould be, Though Love be blind, his priests can see;

Your wisdom that doth rule the wise,

And conquers more than your black eyes,
That like a planet doth dispense,
And govern by its influence
(Though to all else discreet you be)
Is blemish'd 'cause y'are fond of me.

Your manners like a fortress bar
The rough approach of men of war;
The king's and prince's servants you
Do use as they their scrivenors do;
The learned gown, the city ruffe,
Your husband too, scurvy enough:
But still with me you meet and close,
As if that I were king of those.

You say you ought howe'r to do The same thing still; I say so too; Let tongues be free, speak what they will, Say our love's loud, but let's love still. I hate a secret stifled flame,

Let yours and mine have voice, and name; Who censure what twixt us they see Condemn not you, but envy me.

Go bid the eager flame congeal
To sober ice, bid the Sun steal
The temper of the frozen zone

Till christall say, that cold's its own.
Bid Jove himself, whiles the grave state

Of Heaven doth our lots debate,
But think of Leda, and be wise,
And bid love have equall eyes.

View others Lydia as you would
View pictures, I'l be flesh and bloud;
Fondness, like beauty that's admir'd,
At once is censur'd and desir'd;
And they that do it will confess,
Your soul in this doth but digress;
But when you thus in passions rise,
Y'are fond to them, to me y'are wise.

TO CHLOE,

WHO WISH'D HER SELF YOUNG ENOUGH FOR ME.

CHLOE, why wish you that your years
Would backwards run, till they meet mine,
That perfect likeness, which endears
Things unto things, might us combine?
Our ages so in date agree,

That twins do differ more than we.

There are two births, the one when light
First strikes the new awak'ned sense;
The other when two souls unite;

And we must count our life from thence:
When you lov'd me, and I lov'd you,
Then both of us were born anew.

Love then to us did new souls give,

And in those souls did plant new pow'rs; Since when another life we live,

The breath we breath is his, not ours; Love makes those young, whom age doth chill, And whom he finds young, keeps young still.

Love, like that angell that shall call

Our bodies from the silent grave, Unto one age doth raise us all,

None too much, none too little have;

Nay, that the difference may be none,
He makes two not alike, but one.

And now since you and I are such,

Tell me what's yours, and what is mine? Our eyes, our ears, our taste, smell, touch, Do (like our souls) in one combine;

So by this, I as well may be

Too old for you, as you for me.

A VALEDICTION.

BID me not go where neither suns nor show'rs
Do make or cherish flow'rs;
Where discontented things in sadness lye,
And Nature grieves as I ;
When I am parted from those eyes,
From which my better day doth rise,
Though some propitious pow'r
Should plant me in a bow'r,

Where amongst happy lovers I might see
How showers and sun-beams bring
One everlasting spring,

Nor would those fall, nor these shine forth to me;
Nature her self to him is lost,

Who loseth her he honour's most.

Then fairest to my parting view display

Your graces all in one full day;

LOVE BUT ONE.

SEE these two little brooks that slowly creep
In snaky windings through the plains,
I knew them once one river, swift and deep,
Blessing and blest by poets' strains.

Then touch'd with aw, we thought some god did
Those flouds from out his sacred jar,
Transforming every weed into a flow'r,

And every flower into a star.

But since it broke it self, and double glides,
The naked banks no dress have worn,
And yon dry barren mountain now derides
These valleys, which lost glories mourn.

O Chloris! think how this presents thy love,
Which when it ran but in one streame,

[pour

We happy shepheards thence did thrive and prove,
And thou wast mine and all men's theme.

But since 't hath been imparted to one more,
And in two streams doth weakly creep,

Our common Muse is thence grown low, and poor,
And mine as lean as these my sheep.

But think withall what honour thou hast lost,
Which we did to thy full stream pay,

Whiles now that swain that swears he loves thee Slakes but his thirst, and goes away?

[most,

I do return and view agen:

So by this art fancy shall fortune cross; And lovers live by thinking on their loss.

We may not hate, nor yet diffuse our love!

NO PLATONIQUE LOVE.

TELL me no more of minds embracing minds,
And hearts exchang'd for hearts;
That spirits spirits meet, as winds do winds,
And mix their subt'lest parts;
That two unbodi'd essences may kiss,

And then, like angels, twist and feel one bliss.

I was that silly thing that once was wrought
To practise this thin love;

I climb'd from sex to soul, from soul to thought;
But thinking there to move,

Headlong I rowl'd from thought to soul, and then From soul I lighted at the sex agen.

As some strict down-look'd mer pretend to fast,
Who yet in closets eat;

So lovers who profess they spirits taste,
Feed yet on grosser meat;

I know they boast they soules to souls convey,
How e'r they meet, the body is the way.
Come, I will undeceive thee, they that tread
Those vain aëriall waies,

Are like young heyrs, and alchymists misled
To waste their wealth and daies,
For searching thus to be for ever rich,
They only fiud a med'cine for the itch.

ABSENCE.

FLY, O ay, sad sigh! and bear-
These few words into his ear;
"Blest where e'r thou dost remain,
Worthier of a softer chain,
Still I live, if it be true

The turtle lives that's cleft in two:
Tears and sorrows I have store,
But O! thine do grieve me more!
Dye I would, but that I do
Fear my fate would kill thee too."

CONSIDERATION.

Fool that I was, that little of my span
Which I have sinn'd until it stiles me man,
I counted life till now, henceforth I'l say,
'Twas but a drowzy lingring, or delay:
Let it forgotten perish, let none tell
That I then was, to live is to live well.
Off, then, thou old man, and give place unto
The ancient of daies! Let him renew
Mine age like to the eagle's, and endow
My breast with innocence, that he whom thou
Hast made a man of sin, and subtly sworn
A vassall to thy tyranny, may turn
Infant again, and having all of child,
Want wit hereafter to be so beguild;
O thou that art the way, direct me still
In this long tedious pilgrimage, and till
Thy voice be born, lock up my looser tongue,
He only is best grown that's thus turn'd young.