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There Selden and he sate hard by the chair; Suckling next was call'd, but did not appear;
Weniman not far off, which was very fair; But straight one whisper'd Apollo i'th' ear,
Sands with Townsend, for they kept no order; That of all men living he cared not for't,
Digby and Shillingsworth a little further :

He loved not the Muses so well as his sport;

Ani prized black eyes, or a lucky hit
There was Lucan's translator too, and be

At bowls, above all the trophies of wit; That makes God speak so big in's poetry ;

But Apollo was angry, and publickly said, Selwin and Walter, and Bartlets both the brothers; 'Twere fit that a fine were set upon's head. Jack Vaughan and Porter, and divers others.

Wat Montague now stood forth to his tryal, The first that broke silence was good old Ben,

And did not so much as suspect a denial; Prepar'd before with Canary wine,

Put witty Apollo asked bim first of all, And he told them plainly he deserv'd the bays,

It he understood his own Pastoral.
For his were call'd works, where others' were but

For if he could do it, 'twould plainly appear

He understood more than any man there,
Bid them remember how he bad purg'd the stage

And did merit the bayes above all the rest; Of errours that had lasted many an age;

But the mounsienr was modest, and silence confest. And he hopes they did not think the Silent Woman, During these troubles in the court was hid The Fox, and the Alchymist, out-done by no man.

One that Apollo soon mist, little Cid : Apolla stopt him there, and bade him not go on, And having spied him. call'd him out of the throng, 'Twas merit, he said, and not presumption,

And advis'd him in his ear not to write so strong. Must carry't; at which Ben turned about, And in great choler offer'd to go out :

Murrey was summon'd; but 'twas urg'd that he But

Was chief already of another company. Those that were there thought it not fit

Hales, set by himself, most grarely did smile, To discontent so ancient a wit;

To see them about nothing keep such a coil : And therefore Apollo call'd him back again, Apollo had spied him; but, koowing his mind, And made him mine host of his own New Inn. Past by, and callid Faulkland, that sat just behind: Tom Carew was next, but he had a fault

But That would not well stand with a laureat;

He was of late so gone with divinity, His Muse was hard bound, and th' issue of's brain That he had almost forgot his poetry ; Was seldom brought forth but with trouble and pain. Though, to say the truth, (and Apollo did know it)


He might have been both his priest and his poet. All that were present there did agree,

At length, who but an alderman did appear, A laureat Muse should be easie and free: (grace At whicb Will Davenant began to swear; Yet sure 'twas not that, but 'twas thought that his

But wiser Apollo bade him draw nigher, Consider'd he was well, he had a cup-bearer's place. And when he was mounted a little higber, Will Davenant, asham'd of a foolish mischance

Openly declared, that the best sign That he had got lately travelling in France,

Of good store of wit's to have good store of coin : Modestly hoped the handsomness of 's Muse

And without a syllable more or less said, Might any deformity about him excuse.

He put the lawrel on the alderman's head.

Surely the company would have been content, At this all the wits were in such a maze,
If they could have found any precedent;

That for a good while they did nothing but gaze But in all their records either in verse or prose, One upon another, not 3 man in the place There was not one laureat without a nose.

But had discontent writ in great in his face. To Will Bartlet sure all the wits meant well, Only the small poets clear'd up again, But first they would see how his Snow would sell : Out of hope, as 'twas thought, of borrowing: Will smil'd, and swore in their judgments they went But sure they were out, for he forfeits bis crown That concluded of merit upon succes. [less, When he lends any poets about the town. Suddenly taking his place again, He gave way to Selwin, who straight stept in; But, alas ! he had been so lately a wit, That Apollo hardly knew him yet.

LOVE'S WORLD. Toby Matthews (pox on him, how came he there?) | In each man's heart that doth begin Was whispering nothing in some body's ear,

To love, there's ever fram'd within When he had the honour to be nam'd in court:

A little world, for so I found But, sir, you may thank my lady Carlile for't :

When first my passion reason drown'd. For had not her care furnisht you out

Instead of Earth unto this frame,

Earth, With something of handsome, without all doubt

I bad a faith was still the same;
You and your sorry lady Mase had been
In the number of those that were not let in.

For to be right, it doth behove

It be as that, fixt and not move.
In baste from the court two or three came in,
And they brought letters (forsooth) from the queen. (For winds shut up will cause a quake)

Yet as the Earth may sometimes shake,
'Twas discreetly done too; for if th' had come
Without them, th' bad scarce been let into the So often, jealousie and fear,

Stoln into mine, cause tremblings there.

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Wuy so pale and wan, fond love?

Prythee, why so pale?
Will, when looking well cau't move her,

Looking ill prerail?

Priythee, why so pale?
Why so dull and mute, young sinner?

Prythee, why so mnte?
Will, when speaking well can't win her,

Saying notbing do't?

Prythee, why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move;

This cannot take her;
If of her seif she will not love,

Nothing can make her:
The Devil take her!

My Flora was my Sun; for as

Sun, One Sun, so but one Flora was : All other faces borrowed hence Their light and grace, as stars do theace. My hopes I call my Moon; for they, Moon, Juconstant still, were at no stay ; But as my Sun inclin'd to me, Or more or less were sure to be. Sometimes it would be full, and then, Oh! too, too soon, decrease again! Eclips'd sometimes, that 'twould so fall, There would appear no hope at all. My thoughts, 'cause infinite they be, Stars. Must be those many Stars we see; Of which some wandred at their will,

Fixed But most on her were fixed still.

Planets. My burning fame and hot desire Must be the element of fire, Element of fire. Which hath as yet so secret been, That it, as that, was never seen. No kitchen fire, nor eating flame, But innocent, hot but in name; A fire that's starv'd when fed, and gone When too much fewel is laid on. But as it plajoly doth appear, That fire subsists by being near The Moon's bright orb; so I believe Ours doth, for hope keeps love alive. My fancy was the Air, most free,

Air. And full of mutability, Big with chimeras, vapours here Innumerable hatcht, as there. The Sea's my mind, which calm would be, Sea. Were it from winds (my passions) free; But out, alas ! no sea, I find, Is troubled like a lover's mind. Within it rocks and shallows be, Despair, and fond credulity. But in this world it were good reason We did distinguish time and season; Her presence then did make the day, And night shall come when she's away. Long absence in far distant place Winter. Create: the Winter; and the space She tarryed with me, well I might Call it my Summer of delight.

Summer. Diversity of weather came From what she did, and thence had name; Sometimes sh' would smile, that made it fair; And when she laught, the Sun shin'd clear. Sometimes sh’ would frown, and sometimes weep, So clouds and rain their turns do keep; Sometimes again sh' would be all ice, Extreamly cold, extreamly nice. But soft, my Muse; the world is wide, And all at once was not descry'd : It may fall out some honest lover The rest hereafter will discover,

SONNET I. Do'st see how unregarded now

That piece of beauty passes ? There was a time when I did vow

To that alone;
But mark the fate of faces !
That red and white works now no more on me,
Than if it could not charm, or I not see.
And yet the face continues good,

And I bave still desires,
And still the self same Hesh and blood,

As apt to melt
And suffer from those fires;
Oh! some kind power unriddle where it lies,
Whether my heart be faulty, or her eyes !
She every day her man does kill;

And I as often die ;
Neither her power then, nor my will,

Can questiun'd be :
What is the mystery?
Sure beauty's empires, like to greater states,
Have certain periods sel, and hidden fates.


Black eyes,

Of thee (kind boy) I ask no red and white

To make up my delight,
No odd becoming graces,

or little know-not-whats, in faces; Make me but mad enough, give me good store Of love for her I court,

I ask no more ; 'Tis love in love that makes the sport. There's no such thing as that we beauty call,

It is mere couscnage all;

For though some long ago Lik'd certain colours mingled so and so, That doth not tie me now from choosing new, If I a fancy take

To black and blue, That fancy doth it beauty make. 'Tis not the meat, but 'tis the appetite,

Makes eating a delight,

And if I like one dish
More than another, that a pheasant is;
What in our watches that in lis is found,
So to the height and nick

We up be wound,
No matter by what hand or trick.


Like a good prospective he strangely brings OH! for some honest lover's ghost,

Things distant to us, and in these two kings Some kipd upbodied post,

We see what made greatness. And what 't has been

Made that greatness contemptible again.
Sent from the shades below.

And all this not tediously deriv'd,
I strangely long to know
Whether the nobler chaplets wear,

But like to worlds in little maps contriv'd.

'Tis he that doth the Roman dame restore, Those that their mistress' scorn did bear, Or those that were us'd kindly.

Makes Lucrece chaster for her being whore ;

Gives her a kind revenge for Tarquin's sin ;
For whatsoe'er they tell us here

For ravish'd first, she ravisheth again.
To make those sufferings dear,

She says such fine things after't, that we must, 'Twill there I fear be found,

In spite of virtue, thank foul rape and lust,
That to the being crown'd,

Since 'twas the cause no woman would have har, Thave lov'd alone will not suffice,

Though she's of Lucrece side, Tarquin less bad. Unless we also have been wise,

But stay ; like one that thinks to bring his friend And have our loves enjoy'd.

A mile or two, and sees the journey's end,

I straggle on too far: long graces do
What posture can we think him in,

But keep good stomachs off that would fall to.
That here unlov'd again
Departs, and's thither gone,

Where each sits by his own?
Or how can that Elysium be,

Where I my mistress still must see
Circled in other's arms ?

STAY here, fond youth, and ask no more; be wise ; For there the judges all are just,

Knowing too much long since lost Paradise: (still And Sophronisba must

The virtuous joys thou hast, thou would'st should Be bis whom she held dear;

Last in their pride; and would'st not take it ill Not his who lov'd her bere :

If rudely from sweet dreams (and for a toy) The sweet Philoclea, since she dy'd,

Thou wert wak'd ? He wakes himself that does Lies by her Pirocles his side,

enjoy. Not by Amphialus.

Fruition adds no new wealth, but destroys; Some bays (perchance) of myrtle bough,

And while it pleaseth much the palate, cloys;
For difference, crowns the brow

Who thinks he shall be happier for that,
Of those kind souls that were

As reasonably might hope he might grow fat
The noble martyrs here;

By eating to a surfeit; this once past,
And if that be the only odds,

What relishes ? Even kisses lose their taste. (As who can tell) ye kinder gods,

Urge not 'tis necessary; alas! we know
Give me the woman bere.

T'he bomeliest thing which mankind does, is so:
The world is of a vast extent we see,
And must be peopled; children there must be ;

So must bread too; but since there are enough

Born to the drudgery, what need we plough?

Women enjoy'd (wbat c're before they've been)
Are like romances read, or sights once seen :

Fruition's dull, and spoils the play much more

Than if one read or knew the plot before ; It is so rare and new a thing to see

'Tis expectation makes a blessing dear; Aught that belongs to young nobility

Heaven were not Heaven, if we knew what it were.
In print, (but their own clothes) that we must praise And as in prospects we are there pleas'd most,
You, as we would do those first show the ways Where something keeps the eye from being lost,
To arts or to new vorlds : you have begun; And leaves us room to guess ; so here restraint
Taught travellid youth what'tis it should have donc: Holds up delight, that with excess would faint.
For't has indeed too strong a custom been, They who know all the wealth they have, are poor,
To carry out more wit than we bring in.

He's only rich that cannot tell his store.
You have done otherwise, brought home (my lord)
The choicest things fam'd countries do afford :
Malvezzi by your means is English grown,
And speaks our tongue as well now as his own.

There never get was woman made,
Malvezzi, he: wbom 'tis as hard to praise

Nor shall, but to be curst;
To merit, as to imitate his ways.
He does not show us Rome great suddenly,

And oh! that I (fond I) should first
As if the empire were a tympany,

Of any lover

(cover. But gives it natural growth, tells how, and why,

This truth at my own charge to other fools dis. The little body grew so large and high.

You that have promis'd to your selves Describes each thing so lively, that we are

Propriety in love,
Concern'd our selves before we are aware :

Know women's hearts like straws do move,
And at the wars they and their neighbours wag'd, And what we call
Fach man is present still, and still engag'd. Their sympathy, is but lore to jett in general.


All mankind are alike to them;

Dearth of pure wit: siace the great lord of it And though we iron find

(Donne) parted hence, no man has ever writ That never with a loadstone join'd,

So near him, in's own way: I would commend 'Tis not the iron's fault,

Particulars; but, then, how should I end It is because the loadstone yet was never brought. Without a volume ? Ev'ry line of thine If where a gentle bee hath fall'a

Would ask (to praise it right) twenty of mine. And laboured to his power, A new succeeds not to that flower, But passes by ;

(thigh. 'Tis to be thought, the gallant elsewhere loads his Love, Reason, Hate, did once bespeak For still the flowers ready stand,

Three mates to play at barley-break; One buzzes round about,

Love, Folly took; and Reason, Fancy; One lights, one tastes, gets in, gets out ;

And Hate copsorts with Pride ; so dance they : All, all ways use them,


Love coupled last, and so it fell
Till all their sweets are gone, and all again refuse That Love and Polly were in Hell.

They break, and Love would Reason meet,
But Hate was nimbler on her feet ;

Pancy looks for Pride, and thither

Hies, and they too hug together :
No, no, fair heretick, it needs must be

Yet this new coupling still doth tell But an ill love in me,

That Love and Polly were in Hell. And worse for thee;

The rest do break again, and Pride For were it in my power

Hath now got Reason on her side; To love thee now this hour

Hate and Fancy meet, and stand More than I did the last;

Untoucht by Love in Folly's hand;
I would then so fall,

Folly was dull, but Love ran well,
I might not love at all;
Love that can flow, and can admit increase,

So Love arid Folly were in Hell.
Admits as well an ebb, and may grow less.
True love is still the same; the torrid zones,
And those more frigid ones,

It must not know :
For love, grown cold or hot,

I PR’YTHEE, spare me, gentle boy,
Is lust, or friendship, not

Press me no more for that slight toy,
The thing we have.

That foolish trifle of an heart;
For that's a fame would die,

I swear it will not do its part,

[art. Held down, or up too high :

'Though thou do'st thine, employ'st thy power and Then think I love more than I can express,

For through long custom it has known
And would love more, could I but love thee less.

The little secrets, and is grown
Sullen and wise, will have its will,
And like old hawks pursues that still

That makes least sport, dies only where't can kill.

Some yoath that has not made his story,
Will think perchance the pain's the glory ;

And mannerly sit out Love's feast :
What mighty princes poets are! those things I shall be carving of the best,
The great ones stick at, and our very kings Rudely call for the last course 'fore the rest.
Lay down, they venture on; and with great ease

And oh! when once that course is past,
Discover, conguer, what, and where they please.

How short a time the feast doth last!
Some flegmatick sea-captain would have staid
For money now, or victuals; not have weigh'd

Men rise away, and scarce say grace,
Anchor without 'em; thou (Will.) do'st not stay

Or civilly once thank the face So much as for a wind, but go'st away,

That did invite; but seek another place. Land'st, view'st the country; fight'st, put'st all to Before another could be patting out! (rout, And now the news in town is : Dav'nant's come From Madagascar, fraught with laurel, home, And welcome (Will.) for the first time; but pr’ytbee, LADY CARLILE'S WALKING IN HAMPTON In thy next voyage, bring the gold too with thee.




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Heardst thou not musick when she talk'd ?
And didst not find that as she walk'd,
She threw rare perfumes all about,
Such as bean-blossomes newly out,
Or chafed spices, give ?.

J. 8.

I must confesse those perfumes (Tom)
I did not smell; nor found that from
Her passing by, aught sprung up new;
The flow'rs had all their birth from you:
For I pas3'd o'er the self-same walk,
And did not find one single stalk
Of any thing, that was to bring
This unknown after-after-spring.


Dull and insepsible ! could'st see
A thing so near a deity
Move up and down, and feel no change?

J. S.

AGAINST ABSENCE. My whining lover, what needs all These rows of life monastical; Despairs, retirements, jealousies, And subtle sealing up of eyes? Come, come, be wise; return again; A finger burnt's as great a pain ; And the same pbysick, self-same art, Cures that, would cure a flamig beart: Would'st thou, whilst yet the fire is in, But hold it to the fire again. If you (dear sir) the plague have got, What matter is't whether or not They let you in the same house lie, Or carry you abroad to die? He whom the plague, or love once takes, Every room a pest house makes. Absence were good, if 't were but sense That only holds th’intelligence ; Pure love alone no hurt would do; But love is love, and magic too; Brings a mistress a thousand miles, And the sivight of looks beguiles: Makes her entertaine thee there, And the same time your rival bere : And (oh! the devil) that she should Say finer things now than she would ; So nobly fancy doth supply What the dull sense lets fall and die. Beauty like mau's old enemy's known To tempt him most when he's alone : The air of some wild o'er-grown wood, Or pathless grove, is the boy's food. Return then back, and feed thine eye, Feed all thy senses, and feast high. Spare diet is the cause love lasts; For surfeits sooner kill, than fasts.

None, and so great, were alike strange.
I had my thoughts, but not your way:
All are not born (sir) to the bay.
Alas! Tom, I am flesh and blood,
And was consulting how I could,
In spite of masks and boods, descry
The parts deny'd unto the eye;
I was nodoing all she wore;
And had she walk'd but one turn more,
Eve in her first state had not been
More naked, or more plainly seen.

том. 'Twas well for thee she left the place : There is great danger in that face : But badst thou view'd her leg and thigh, And upon that discovery Search'd after parts that are more dear (As fancy seldom stops so near) No time or age had ever seen So lost a thing as thou badst been.

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Wonder not if I stay not here :
Hurt lovers (like to wounded deer)
Must shift the place; for standing still
Leaves too much time to know our ill:
Where there is a traytour eye
That lets in from th' enemy
All that may supplant an heart,
'Tis time the chief should use some art:
Who parts the object from the sense,
Wisely cuts off intelligence.
O how quickly men must die,
Should they stand all Love's battery !
Persindaë's eyes great mischief do,
So do we know the cannon too;
Dut men are safe at distance still:
Where they reach pot, they cannot kill.
tore is a fit, and soon is past,
III diet only makes it last;
Who is still looking, gazing ever,
Drinks wide i’ thi' very height o'th' ferer.

One of her hands one of her cheeks lay under,

Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss ; (asunder, Which therefore swell’d, and secm'd to part As angry to be robb'd of such a bliss :

The one look'd pale, and for revenge did long,
While t'other blush'd, 'cause it had done tbe

Out of the bed the other fair hand was

On a green sattin quilt, whose perfect white Look'd like a dazie in a field of grass, "And shew'd like unmelt snow unto the sight:

There lay this pretty perdue, safe to keep

The rest o'th' body, that lay fast asleep. Her eyes (and therefore it was night) close laid,

Strove to imprison beauty till the mord;
But yet the doors were of such fine stuff made,
That it broke through, and show'd itself in scorn:

Throwing a kind of light about the place,
Which tum'd to smiles still as't came near her


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