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A46239
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Claraphil and Clarinda in a forrest of fancies. By Tho: Jordan, Gent.
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Jordan, Thomas, 1612?-1685?
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1650
(1650)
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Wing J1023; ESTC R213546
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17,335
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56
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cry The Rebell LOve No I am not such a Foe To my Peace Prethee cease Say no more Though her Eyes Are the Skies Where Love flies And Inveagles All the Eagles That in her Airy soar I dare not flie in her Skie 'T is too high Once her frown Threw me down So low That I swore Never more In a Sun-beam to soar Love and I will each other never know He brings such Woes with him Nought can exceed um Souls do in sorrow swim And Tears do feed um That every sense is dim To Peace and Freedom Eye me Try me Can you deny me Thus he beguiles the Wise But if you To his Bow do bow Your Soul becomes a Sacrifice Fires Mires Brooks and Briers Kinder are than he Then shake him off VVith scorn and scoff Sing and drink Sack with me The Departure BY all thy Glories willingly I go Yet could have wish'd thee Constant in thy Love But since thou needs must prove Uncertain as is thy Beauty Or as the Glass that shews it thee My Hopes thus soon to overthrow Shews thee more sickle but my flames by this Are easter quench'd than his VVhom flattering smiles betray 'T is tyrannous delay Breeds all this harm And makes that Fire consume that should but warm Till Time destroys the Blossoms of thy Youth Thou art our Idol worship'd at that Rate But who can tell thy Fate Or say that when thy Beauties gone Thy Lovers Torch will still burn on I could have serv'd thee with such truth Devoutest Pilgrims to their Saints do ow Departed long ago And at thy ebbing Tide Have us'd thee as a Bride Who 's onely true Cause you are fair he loves himself not you T. C. The Ladies Answer BY all the Perjuries thy Lips did wear Thy formal Favours never aim'd at Good But what might move the Bloud To wanton in its own self-self-love Which Virtue bids me to reprove Though to reform be to for swear Yet in the holy State of Love we may Not swear our Souls away For at the Latter Day We Damn if we betray And they that prove False in their Faith un-crown the King of Love Ere Time have blemish'd this poor bloom of mine Your wilde Idolatry will worship more Then Laplenders adore You cannot with your words win me To think that where no Saint you see You ean adore an empty Shrine No dear Dissembler the best Love doth tend To a self-serving End The greatest Power that is We do obey for Bliss He that will be False to himself can nere be true to me The Fugitive FLy Fly Some way where neither Ear nor Ey Can ever see or hear thee But those Furies that Daily triumph at The Tyranny of Truth For I By fainting Famin vow to die Ere such a Sed come near me In whose bosom lies All Hell can devise To ruine Age and Youth From thy Lust flows a Floud That destroyes All my Joyes In the Bud Thou a Civil War dost move Gainst the Royalty of Love Treason lodgeth in thy Bloud She that hath bid Adieu And refus'd VVhat she chus'd For a New Let her Lover look to be In the same Extremity Faith she never can be true Then welcome Freedome Farewell Fears I have for Crowns exchang'd my Cares My Soul shall soar above the Spheres And sing whilest he the burthen bears VVho would not pardon such a Thief That slily steals away his Grief Then he that quarrels for relief Resolves to be a Fool in Chief The Humorist A Medley conteining ten Ayres REnounce this Humor and attend The fair advisings of a Friend Thou never wilt have sober Brains Whilest Love lies lurking in thy Vâ—â—â—â— These folded Arms and broken Lutes Are Symptomes of forsaken suites Thou sure hast seen some Lady who As thou wouldst have her will not do Why then be Mute And cease thy Suit Apply thy self to me I 'le teach thee who To win and woo Yet keep thy Liberty Ay me Will never get her thee Nor a sigh nor a shrug nor a tear If she be fair and free She must see that in thee Or thou never shalt come near The thing that thy Minde And Desires have dessign'd Some will lie down with Language and Ayrs Some in Wine Will resign Or if prais'd VVill be rais'd With a Puritan fall to your Prayers But if a Lady Great You would encounter Whose Fame and Family are seated high 'T is Honor doth the Feat With that ye Mount her For onely Eagles do at Eagles flie If you can reach her in the royal Road With Panegyrick and Seraphick Ode Ye do it Alle mode But if the waiting Creature must procure Tempt her with Treasure and ye have her sure Avostre Serviteur If you meet With one whose Wit All Beauty else disdains That will suppose A Fountain flows Of Violets in her Veins Tell her the Glory of her Face May make Scithians sue for Grace And Treason turn to Truth The lustre of her Eyes excell Those bright Spheres where Angels dwell With ever-yielding Youth But when y' are wanting One To be ranting on Pity 't is you should be barr'd in For you may repair Unto Lady-Fair Go your ways in Grays-Inn Garden There the Graces are And good Faces are Which the grim God of War Never plunder'd Have but care enough You 'll finde Ware enouh And you may spare enough For five hunder'd That will love half an hour If ye bring Treasure Or else they bar the Door Against your Pleasure Yet much I fear they have met with their Matches Since Musqueteers of late plunder'd their Patches Besides enacted now they see The downfall of Adultery And 't is a Paradox they vow For to be fair and faithfull to They say the Sword destroys the Gown Their Love and Liberties go down Then they frown But bid defiance you that can Unto the Farthingall and Fan For no Commodity we see But hath its Dis-commodity Then ho Toth' Tavern let 's go And drink down Disasters For Madamazella is meat for your Masters Be then Free-men And let the Women Sue for an Act of Grace Or not deal With those will tell Of Crime or Person Time and Place If I can but Well allure thee to 't We 'll endeavour such a brace of Lives So fair and high We 'll skorn to lie With Wenches or with Wives I mean but those Whom the Fates dispose In a very noble Nuptial flame All other Fires Are wilde Desires And crucisie the Fame The Invitation OH my dear Cloris Shew where the Store is Of all those Sweets which man prone to adore is Love makes me slavish Oh! let me lavish Those Ioyes that would make an Anchorite ravish Sweet do not lose um For in thy bosom Are all Delights Of Lovers Nights Time will destroy them Shall I enjoy them Let me enshrine Thy soul with mine I le build thee Bowers And tinsill Towers To let in twi-light and keep out the Showers No Hag shall haunt thee Nor Danger daunt thee
CLARAPHIL AND CLARINDA IN A FORREST OF FANCIES By THO: JORDAN Gent. Sat mihi sunt pauci Lectores est satis unus Si me nemo legat sat mihi nullus erit Owen Epigram London Printed by R. Wood To the Worthily Honoured Mr. GEO STRIPLING SIR IF the Name of Stranger a word in its genuine sence never despicable do not deface the formality of this present Oblation and put the to the expence of such an Apologie as shall render me ruder then that Act which may be the object of my Accusation I hope these imperfect mixtures of Fancy may gain a liberty to approach the presence of your leisure and attend the truce of your neore serious retirements I dare not manifest the multiplicity of motives that have induced me to this uncustomary confidence lest the representation of your own clear deservings cause me to be accused for flattery a practice which to me is equally detestable with Rebellion and Sacriledge Sir you will in this weak Volume finde such a little Wilderness of vain Varieties that you will think the Author was onely studious to contrive an orderly Confusion If any thing in it may be the object of your Approbation I have an absolute accomplishment of all my Expectations how ever I shall cherish my self with hopes to enjoy the benefit of your pardon and have licence to subscribe my Ambition in the honour of being SIR Your much devoted Servant THO: JORDAN CLARAPHIL AND CLARINDA TO CLARINDA On Her Perfection I Will not Saint my fair Clarinda SHE More glorious is in her humanity Nor in the heat of Fancy pluck a Star To rob the needy World and place her these These are the subtle Raptures of the Times With which the wanton Poets make their Rhymes Rise high as doth their Bloud 'till some proud She Pamper'd with such new-cook'd Divinity Surfets believing in a pride of Soul These fictions true and Sins without controul Do Angels boast habitual purity No 't is in them impeccability And therefore not praise-worthy they 've nor will Nor power to think much less to practice Ill With thee 't is otherwise for thou mayst sin Beyond hope of Repentance and therein Appears the odds for maugre Flesh and Bloud Devil Temptation Beauty thou art Good To Clarinda his Love upon Refusal of a Kiss WHat not a Kiss Clarinda this is strange What is the slender motive of this Change Nay I le not strive with you 't is no content To me to take a Kiss by Ravishment Didst ever think I joyn'd my Lips to thine But when I thought thy Bliss as large as mine How strangely Curtesies mis-construed be That 's thought Offence which I meant Charity Not long time since if I did once neglect This kinde of Kissing-duty I was check'd And not enforced onely to restore it But as a fault to pay a Million for it And let me never be recorded where The little God unsolds his Register But I did pay this amorous Duty down As much for your Delight as for my own And must your self-conceit make you so rude To pay my Merit with Ingratitude Forgetfull Vanity can you deride The Man whose Folly gave you cause of Pride Was it not I who when ye did despair To have the last fruits of an undone Heir Saluted ye with love though since indeed Ye are well-furnish'd Suitors ride full speed Who yet cannot conceive Merit in you But trust my Judgement love ye 'cause I do Before I brought ye choice you had not any I was that One Fool that hath made your Many Had not I been your Maiden-head would be Fifteen years hence of some Antiquity Perhaps lead Apes Virginities perdition According to the Country superstition I did not onely love you but did strive To make you worthy of me did contrive To mend Heav'ns work changing that Eye that Lip Controuling Nature's courser Workmanship I did applaud you 'bove a Deity And make you Sacred with my Heresie But now I see Fate will not be withstood Nature nor I nor both can make you Good I stole a Constellation for you Eye Pollish'd you Brow with Indian Ivory Feign'd from your Lips Nectar to Flow and Ebb Made your hair softer than Arachne's VVebb Fetch'd Pyramids of snow to vail your Brest Brought the red Morning from the early East To deck your Cheek your Lips that wanted bloud Had liquid Coral from the furious floud To make them ruddy I perfum'd your breath More sweet than is the Phoenix at her Death I sent you Summer spices from Sabea Arabian Aromats Balm from Iudea Such Odors for your Breath I did invent Till they became a gluttony of Scent Your Voice so full of Concord some might be Brought to beleeve 't was Heaven's Hierarchie Nor onely gave these to your Outward Feature Within I made ye a more glorious Creature I did conceit you Innocent to be As Angels in their immortality Chast as the Virgin Infant newly hurl'd From the warm Womb to weep in th' treach'rous Or the first Man ere Misery made suit World He should know Eve the Serpent and the Fruit I thought Thee as constant without variation As rising Titan to his declination And the great cause of thy Ambition is Thy Vanity made thee Beleeve all this But by the Magick of that Poesie That brought them to thee from thee they shall And never see thee more thy Glass shall be flie The onely Mirror of Deformity This recompence I will return thy Ill Thou shalt have leave to say I love thee still That thou mai'st keep thy Loves who if they know How thou quitt'st me will quickly leave thee to Whil'st I with humbled Knees in devout Prayer Purge out the sin that made me feign thee fair A Wish for a Widow in the Character of a good Husband IF a white Wish wing'd with a Zeal more bright Than Prayers proceeding from an Anchorite When he bedews with tears the sacred shrine May prove propitious pray accept of mine If 't be decreed Himen shall once more light His holy Tapers for your Bridal Night May he be such a Consort as excels The vast extent of largest Paralels May the renown'd Endowments of his Mind Be the epitome of all Mankind May the Effigies of his Beauties be Th' Exact Idea of a Deity Let him in such high seas of Learning swim That all the Sciences may study Him Next I would him Valiant and further From Tyranny than Mercy is from Murther And his own Actions such a Vollume be As shall exceed all Rules of Heraldry May he be one whose most auspicious stars Designs him to compose these Civil wars For you are Mistresse of such merit that None but one destin'd to erect a State Is worthy of you But if he should prove Short of all this May he supply't with Love And Court you with such a divine respect As at last day the Saints shall the Elect So loyall to your Bed that he may deem No Woman but your self was made