after many yawns and feined shows Of a transported mind at last the Elf Delivers nonsence like the mouth of Delph Leave leave thou russet Rabbi leave for shame And do not thus abuse that holy name And function of a Preacher drive agen Currie thy horses and not Christian men Else prophane huckster with thy whip thou maist E'r long be scourg'd and forth the Temple cast On the unusual cold and rainie weather in the Summer 1648. WHy puts our Grandame Nature on Her winter coat e'r summers done What hath she got an ague fit And thinks to make us hov'ring sit Over her lazie Embers else why should Old Hyems freeze our vernal bloud Or as we each day grow older Doth the world wax wan and colder 'T is so See how nakt Charitie Sterves in this frozen age whilst we Have no other heat but glow-worm zeal Whose warmth we see but cannot feel All chang'd are Ceres golden hairs To clouded grey and nought appears In Flora's dresse our hopes do die And o th' sudden blasted lie Heav'ns glorious lamps do wast away The Elements themselves decay And the mixt bodies mutinie By a rebellious sympathie Whilst the distemper'd world grows pale And sickning threatens death to all So in an instant waters swept The old worlds monsters whilst they wept It's funeral but the new world's sins Are so deep di'd no floud can rinse Nothing but lightning and Heav'ns fire Can purge our pestilential aire Farewel to passionate Love FArewel fond Love I 'l never bow Slave like unto my fetters I Fair Sex I 'l not adore you now Yet love you as my libertie Love grown adust with Melancholy To madness turns or extream folly About and with your fires I 'l play But with as loose and gentle touch As boys from hand to hand toss away Live coals lest they should burn too much Too ne'r his heart who lets love come Suffers a wilful Martyrdome Stout Souldiers in an Enemies land March not too far sans fear or wit E'r they resolve or to withstand Or wisely make a safe retreat Bodies when joyn'd engaged are Piqueering's better sport by far The Excuse To the Ladie E. B. YOur lovely fair did first invite Me to that strange demand Your wanton eie big with delight Made me to understand You pleasant as your looks where every glance Did raise and court my warm bloud to advance Then blame not me for loving you Who if alow'd would not do so Henceforth I 'l sit demure by you Nor speak when you w'ud hear Just as I w'ud your picture view Behold you and admire For if I speak you prompt my tongue with love And 'cause I tel 't you you unkind reprove Then blame not me for saying so Since 't was your beauty bid me woe Equalitie To two fair Mistresses SHal I freize between two fires Or doth a numness ceaze on me Each star inflames me with desires Yet which to chuse I cannot see Since reason admires equally Then give me both For faith and troth I should be loath Each should not pleased be Or you who so perfect are That nature hath her self outdone In making you bright lights so fair Rule by your turns that so each one May cool the heat o th' to'other Sun And Love me both For faith and troth I should be loath Each should not pleased be To a friend Ode AFfect not aierie Popularitie But what thou wouldst be thought that strive to be Praise is but Virtues shadow who court her Doth more the handmaid then the Dame admire Who only doth wel wel spoke of to bee Studies the praise and not the virtue he To blaze thy virtues ne'r bespeak thy friend If good they speak thee and themselves commend Now men but judge by heare-say thus they 'l know And see thy worth and judge it greater too True worth is best displaid by modestie The greatest rivers slide most silentlie Only the shallow brooks do prattle they Make a great noise and go but little way Fame that doth feed o th' vaine applause of men Gapes to its Eccho to be heard agen And like this lives awhile by others breath Which being stopt is husht to silent death Good actions crown themselves with lasting baies Who deserves wel needs not anothers praise Virtue 's her own reward though Eugâ— none Wil cry 't is Guerdon yet to have wel done A sudden Phansie at Midnight HOw i st we are thus melancholie what Are our rich ferkins out or rather that Which did inspire them the Immortal wine That did create us like it self divine Or are we Nectar-sated to the hight Or do we droop under the aged night If so weelvote it ne'r to be eleven Rather then â—â—us to part at six and seaven Moult then thy speedy wings old Time and be As slow-pac't as becomes thy age that we May chirp awhile and when we take our ease Then flie and poast as nimbly as you please Play the good fellow with us and sit down A while that we may drink the to'ther round I 'l promise here is none shal thee misuse Or pluck thee by the foretop in abuse Time saies he wil nor can he stay 'cause he Thinks him too grave for your young companie It makes no matter Sirs How say you yet toth'tother Subsidie Yes yes And let our Ganymede nimbly flie And fil us of the same Poetick sherrie Ben-Iohnson us'd to quaffe to make him merrie Such as would make the grey-beard botles talk Had they but tongues or had they legs to walk Such as would make Apollo smile or wu'd Draw all the Sisters to our Brotherhood And though the bald Fool staies not let him know Wee l sit and drink as fast as he shal go So as the salt Anchovis swam in oyl Wee 'l make them swim again in sacks sweet spoil On a Map of the World accidentally faln into the water and spoiled THe world drown'd once agen sure holy text Saies it should be by fire dissolved next Deucalion then weeps for this world as much As once for th' old he did it's sins are such And as before he drown'd a world of men In figure thus by chance it sinks agen Who Plato's book of Commonwealth did view By mice devour'd and thought thence would ensue A fatal Period of the publick State Would ha' presag'd the like unhappy fate Had but he seen this were attending us And construed this dire chance as ominous I 'l not obtrude for truths Prophetick dreams Yet Mara's waters like Nil's seavnfold streams ' Tofore that gently did but wet this Land Now in a purple lake of bloud do stand And quite o'rwhelm't and which is worse we fear No Olivebranch wil e'r agen appear The Microcosme of individual man See how that wavers in an Ocean Of perillous inconstancie whilst phlegme And crude raw humours quench the fires in him That his split-sailes bear not the gentlest blast See how the Moral world in strife doth wast And by like jarring doth
cause her feet are now Iambick made Refrigerium NOw through each vein my blood doth run Hot as the Summers scorching Sun Whilst on what side so è'r I turn With double frying flames I burn To cool both Aelna's first I 'l have An Arbour coole as is the grave And with green shadie branches wove As covert as Dodona's grove So that the Sun may not appear At all in this close Hemisphere With Curran-bushes I 'l hav 't made Vail'd o'r with Sycamores coole shade And mixt with Rasps and Cherrytrees Whose choice fruit may my pallat please I' th' midst of which next shal be spread Upon a large and spacious stead A frost-upon-green tabbie Quilt Water'd as if 't had there bin spilt Strew'd o'r with Roses where I may Naked my lazie limbs display And underneath't a Christal stream Of fresh Rose-water still'd from them Through th' limbeck of my body that My smelling Sense may recreate A marble Fountain next I 'l have Close by in a large hollow cave Springing with Nilus seav'nfold streams Til they all meet in one fair Thames Washing in whose pure waters we Diana and her Nymphs may see With other lively Pictures that My Seeing sense may recreate Next I wil have Arion play Upon a Dolphins back whose lay Shal teach each bird to chirp and trie How to excel his harmonie Orpheus his harp Apollo's lyre Shal with the Syrens fill the Quire With other sorts of Musick that My hearing Sense may recreate A Mirmaid next I 'l have in stead o th' Barber for to kemb my head All the four Winds too shal conspire With gentle breize to coole my fire Till I being fann'd with Ladies love Then their cold Sex shall colder prove Last because nought cools better then A Maid who warms and cooles agen I 'l have a young plump amorous Queen Ripe though she be not yet fifteen 'Twixt whose close arms and snowie breast I may diffuse my heat and rest Then bath my self in kisses that My Feeling Sense may recreate Thus when at once I all my Senses please Me thinks I feel my self in Paradise ELEGIES By Robert Heath Esquire LONDON Printed for HUMPHRY MOSELEY and are to be sold at his Shop at the signe of the Princes Arms in S. Pauls Church-yard 1650. Elegies On the Death of the young and pious Ladie Mrs C. P. SO yong and ripe in judgement fit for heaven A Saint shee was on earth before eleven What Virtue was there lodg'd in this smal world Whose soul grew faster then the body could Sins shee had none but what curst Nature gave Yet e'r she knew 't shee long'd this world to leave Where but new enter'd she with pious rage Her Prologue spoke doth bravely quit the stage Oh happy growth that in so short a time This early blossome thus to heav'n could climb Epicedium On the beautiful Lady Mrs A. K. unfortunately drowned by chance in the Thames in passing the Bridge DRown'd and i' th' Thames oh how I grieve to see Such fair streams act so foul a Tragedie Not all thy main which twice a day doth flow Can wash this guilt from off thy conscious brow Like the dead sea thou look'st whilst every wave Thou wear'st now seems to be another grave Forgetful Lethe or the Stygian Lake As thou foul Tyber looks not halfe so black How horrid thou appear'st and thou dost tast Sowre and not half so pleasant as thou wast Rome now wil fear to drink thee since thou 'rt dyde With such chast guiltlesse blood and none wil ride More on thy ruder waves thy crueltie Since 't would not spare so fair a Saint as shee How I could flow with anger chide thee too But thou art innocent as pure I know 'Las 't was her Fate unhappy Destinie Thus to thy streams to adde more puritie Thou 'rt become white agen an Element Fit to receive a soul so innocent Whose body buried in thy Christal tomb Transparent lies scorning earths baser womb Gilt Tagus banks nor the Pectalian Can boast such Golden treasures as you can Thou didst but lend her to the Earth awhile Thou hast thy Pearl again now Thamis smile 'T is fit such gems should by the makers hands Shine thus transplanted to their native sands On the Death of the excellent fair Lady the Lady A. R. HOw blindly erting were those Painters that Did without eies grim Death delineate Did he not ayming shoot and shooting hit 'Midst the Arcadian Nymphs this fairest white This whitest Venus Dove without his light How had he found this mark or shot so right Thus as he aiming stood and in his heart Relenting doubted whether his fel dart He should or spare or send so long he gaz'd Upon her Beauties splendour all amaz'd That the bright raies she darted did so shine And dazle the beholding Archers eyne That whilst he trembling shot and made her light Extinct the beams of that put out his sight And so e'r since Death hath been blind indeed On her fair Tomb this Epitaph shal be read Beautie here on Death reveng'd Triumphant lies Whose Glories won all hearts put out all eies On the losse of Mr N. W. his three finggers cut off at the battel of Edgehil he being both a Poet and a Musitian BY some it hath been said That the best Musick is by discord made But here I grieve to see By discords we have lost our harmonie How cruel was that hand Depriv'd thee of thy cunning fingers and At one unhappy blow Cut off an Orpheus and a Poet too How sadly the strings rest E'r since those fingers which before exprest On them such lively art Were thus dissected from their constant part Yet though these joynts be gone To quiet ease two fingers stil are on Which with dexteritie Can write the Epitaph o' th' t'other three And though you cannot play Yet stil both sing and versifie you may Naenia Upon the death of my dear friend T. S. Esquire slain at the first fight at Newbery 1645. PAle Ghost I weep not 'cause thy precious blood Honour'd when spilt a cause so just so good Nor grieve I 'cause so much that suffer'd too I' th' losse of such a Champion as you This makes my heart afresh with thy wounds bleed A Loyal Subject and my friend is dead One whose unborrow'd native Wit proclaim'd Him sole Apollo's heire whose Vertues fam'd Him with Pandora's gifts endow'd whose parts Did stile him Master of all noble Arts One whose Youths sprightful valour did encline To acts Heroick without help of wine One who prefer'd the cause he had in hand Above his life before his fathers land One that was forward yet not desp'rate bold A coward in ill acts yet durst behold Death in his uglyest vizar This was Hee Who lov'd his friend and feard no Enemie Who nobly thus did seek an early grave Because he scorn'd to live a subjects slave Wide was the Orifice sure of thy large wound Els had thy great and gallant soul ne'r
store Send it oh send it to my Love Wing'd with the feathers of thy Mothers Dove Or head it with the same desire Thou didst my shaft enspire Or take thine arrow back from me 'T is crueltie Sometimes not to be cruel Oh! Or smite both hearts or els unbend thy bow To a Lady wearing a Looking-glass at her girdle GAze not on that fair Mirrour where you see Nought but the shadow of your frailtie lie VVhere beautie staies no longer then you look On the gilt outside of that rotten look Your self where all 's but dust without and such Foul leaves within why then admir'd so much Since nothing can be lov'd but what hath been Known to the sence or to the eie bin seen VVhy should you doat upon that face which you Never yet saw nor have the pow'r to do VVhose very shape when you have often pri'd And re-examin'd every part and spi'd VVith strictest eie each line and symmetrie Is clean forgot when you remove your eie Which usual instance may instruct you not To studie that which is so soon forgot Since you nor see your self nor look upon That form but thus by meer reflection How know you or why think you are fair Is it 'cause fond admirers say you are For want of judgement or some flattring Asse Or this a great deal more dissembling glasse Tels a fair storie to your cred'lous eie VVil you believe such Romance historie VVhen the spruce gallant courts your hand and vows Saluting it he nothing whiter knows Then gazing upward on that heav'nly sphere Swears you are Angel-like beyond compare Excelling all your sex can you conceive That to be true which he did least believe VVhen th' am'rous youth looks Babies in your eies And through Loves flatt'ring optick he espies At the wrong end a world of beautie there Blinded with passion thus 'twixt hope and fear VVhen he protests he thinks he sees in you Some God-like form can you believe it too VVhen knowing men dissemble truth alas VVil you then trust a dumb deceitful glass Embrace your selfe and like Narcissus pore Upon that Christal til you start a flow'r VVhich fades as soon as blown admiring more That part your selfe then others all the store Then quit that coz'ning beam nor imitate The Mermaid to be onely upwards neat VVith comb and glass in hand when we all know You'ar either fish or what is worse below The blanched Swan with whitest plumes arrai'd Til by her own black skin and legs betraid Did think her self the fairest bird do you But look about you you 'l appear so too VVhat boots a comly presence graceful eie If all be foul except the Phisnomie Wise men admire not beauty birth or blood How rich or fair they ask not but how good First dresse your soul see that be fair and clear And then you 'l truly beautiful appear To Clarastella 'T Is not your beautie I admire Nor the bright star-light of each eie Nor do I from their beams take fire My loves torch to enlighten I No 't is a Glorie more divine Kindles my tapour at your shrine Your comly presence takes not me Nor your much more inviting meen Nor your sweet looks the Graces be Fair Creature in your picture seen No 't is your soul to which I bow 'T is none of these I love but you How blind is that Philosophie Doth onely nat'ral bodies know That views each Orb o' th' glorious skie But sees not him that made it so I love thy informing part i' th' whol And every part thy all thy soul The Farewel to Clarastella PAssion o' me why melt I thus with griefe For her whose frozen heart denies reliefe Find out some other way to punish me Yee Gods and let me not the Author be Of mine own death make me forget that e'r I lov'd at least that e'r I loved her Yet I must love her stil O cruel Fate That dost true love so il requite with hate Why e'r I saw her didst not make me blind Then had she as before continued kind Without pow'r to displease her Charitie Warm as my Love and I had stil been I But now alas my distant bliss I see Which like my courted shadow flieth mee As fast as I pursue ay mee she 's gone And with her all my winged hopes are flown But oh if you one drop of mercy have Let me request you shed it at my grave When y'hear I died for you Oh let there be One tear at least shed from your pious eies In mem'ry that I fel your sacrifice Where though I cannot yet my marble wil Gainst these soft show'rs for me some tears distil Fairest farewel and by my living love Maist thou to me when dead thus loving prove Shed from your eies perhaps one faithful tear May make my ashes quick again how e'r My shipwrackt love in these drops bath'd at last May drowning grasp what 's next and hold thee fast Which whilst I liv'd it could not thus I wil Alive and dead my Stella love thee stil On the Report of Clarastella's death SHee dead forgive me Heav'n I' ad almost swore That she 'bout her had nothing mortal wore Her soul 's immortal and her body too Since 't knew no actual sin must needs be so Our sins do drag us to our graves but she Had no such harbingers her Pietie Made her a Monarch in Divinitie And taught her how to live eternally It is not likely guilty death shou'd take Such Innocence away from us or make Immortal Virtue die old Adam sure Had liv'd til now could he have liv'd as pure And free from either act or thought of vice Hee had surviv'd this age in Paradice Our sins are our diseases onely they Invoke pale death whom we all must obey When he arrests us for these debts we know Life 's the cheap ransome for the sums we owe VVhich she ne'r forfeited 'cause no disease Upon her body or her soul could seize She was so sound and perfect why should I Believe that Clarastella then could die If wantonnesse durst steal into her mind 'Midst her sweet dreams leaving a touch behind Of phansied pleasure yet she wakt a maid And blushing that she should be thus betrai'd By her own guiltlesse thoughts she feard to tel Ev'n what her visions were nor knew she wel What was their pleasant meaning or if shee Did but by chance two Lovers kissing see Shee thought they did but imitate the Dove Thus to affect with chast Platonick love Her salutations deckt with modestie Did like her smiles expresse humilitie Thus was she perfect Virgin whilst her love Knew n'other object but the Gods above How then durst death tow'rds her his dart advance Whose onely sin was harmless ignorance Why should I fondly drooping let mine eies Yeild at the news a liquid sacrifice Or let her dying rumour wound my years Whose virtue did deserve a Nestors years I 'l not believe then she is dead since I Know she hath merited
know Whether the world in ninty seav'n or no As Hoord affirms shal be dissolv'd for this More fit and to be known more easie is My husband 's now about some land to buy And I 'd not have him throw 't away said she By no means let him do 't said Sarah no But rather in Reversion let him ' stow His money at that fatal period when The world for certein must dissolve for then Th' earth for a thousand years shal leased be To us the Saints for little saied She To quit this was a learned Quaere made By a thin antiquated Chambermaid Run mad with reading Dod and Broughton where She scruples whether Aarons Ephod were Of the skie colour or seawater green The dyers all of Amsterdam have been Long in dispute about the question Next the point of Praedestination Was startled to perplex the more in haste From this to Freewil these Heav'n drivers past And Squirrel-like as nimbly leapt from this As o'r one bog to another wild Irish Like th' dogs that lapt at Nilus seav'nfold stream They lick the flouds now they have troubled them Or as young Scepticks in Philosophie From Air to Water Fire to Earth wil flie Peripateticks in Divinitie O'r all its Elements thus they likewise hie As nimbly with their tongues as standing stil O'r th' world a man in a map travel wil With 's eie in one short minute yet not know Where the Moguls rich country stands or how His own is rul'd In every doubt at last All unresolv'd each to their homes do haste With their boss'd Bibles truss'd beneath their arms Thumb'd in the Revelation and the Psalms Bodie O death who should they meet at door But Grace the waiting maid that saltchin'd whore Who before she the Paedagogue had wed Took all preventives and when e'r she sped Toucht Sowbread Gladdon us'd and Savin food To slink her spurious and abortive brood Procur'd for her dear Madams daughters taught Them to leap oft soon as their wembs were fraught Yet with her cloak as holy face now wears Where little hair much Sanctitie appears Lord how she sighs in direful accents that Private affairs had made her come so late What matter i st How d'ee her quondam friend Her Ladies gentle Go-before doth find Her there renews acquaintance and thence brings Her to his Laundresse private house and flings Her down on the refreshing mat the bed Being ta'ne away and nothing but the sted There lest to hold the sport up since the poor Old Bawd her bedcloaths found too fast were wore Each met their comforters before they went To their tup Cuckolds so the day was spent But I am no Sir Pandarus of Troy To sent each City stop or close dequoy I am no Pimp or Constable if more Sinners you 'd find search Bridewel there be store Who though they been't all sanctifi'd alike Yet are as right for the cause Catholick SATYR 3. The Argument The formal breeding of an heire I' th' City is described here Where the more formal States-man his Admired creature pourtraid is MAn is a laughing Creature who in this And a soul rational distinguisht is From brutish beasts yet even they not have Like use of Reason seem they wise or grave Follies in them pitty or laughter move In men of wiser judgement to reprove Whose open Errours with as publike smiles Is best for silent pitty but beguiles And hardens follie by connivance we By precept and example taught must be Yet both are scarce enough to instruct or wean Some from the Simples which they first suckt in With their flit nurses milk for sure it is Midwives and Nurses make men fools or wise Why should not Cosmus els that City heir Whose education was the onely care Of his indulgent parents wiser prove For see how like a Puppet he doth move Or Quarter-striker turns upon his toe As in a frame when he saluteth you Good manners are not bought at th' change or Schools Art's Nature servant Fools wil stil be fools Yet wasters could he manage for Pruans wel At Islington on Sundayes and to tel You truth had learnt to dance but that his ear And he both so inapprehensive were But he is rich hath fin'd for Sheriff twice And wears good cloathes yet out of them or his Mean rabscab companie looks like what he was First born and bred that is a precious Asse So there 's a river in Boetia Wherein the fishes shine like gold they say But taken thence look but as other frie The City seldome breeds Gentilitie Til three or four discents No Oake can be Upon a Peartree graft so contrarie And wide their Natures are But see his friend Whom he so often walks with to Mile-end The Fencer Peregrin that brags he can Kil at Duello more than any man Has rules to print the flesh as the Stoccata Passada Punto and the Imbroccata With more Italian postures by a groom Yet was disarm'd beat and kickt out o' th' room The other Morn at th' Trumpet could not skil Guard him from such a sawcie foot as wel Hang 't this is horse-play saies he oh the sence Of discreet manhood valiant patience Thus men discover'd are by th' companie They keep and throughly known els why wou'd he Delight in Dabcok that Town-gul whose nose And face are as ridiculous as cloathes Marrie to laugh at that himself might bee Thought wiser though God knows but one degree As ugly Ladies waiting faces get More ugly them the better off to set Many o' th' City have such properties To worship them and with forc't laughter please For is 't not brave to be the best i' th' room Pay all have all respect and after come To be admir'd by Squndrels Formal I Am most incens'd with yet whose gravity Outweighs all other parts his speech is cream Starcht as his beard takes his hat off by th' brim Methodically 'twixt two fingers while His face of Essayes seldom deigns to smile Like one i' th' Isle of eggs he nicely walks Affects strange sawces like a Sophister talks Respects none that wear worser cloathes than he And thinks himself the rare Academie More proud of 's little wit neat hose than e'r Incaeptor was of 's gown the first whole year Loves to be eied yet looks nor drinks below The salt seems gravely wise is nothing so How practis'd is this policie for most men Study more how to seem judicious than To be so herein whilst their best wisdome lies To hide their follies in Scholastick guise This is a fit companion Cosmus wear This Bristol Diamond in thy copper ear 'Fore him that young proud Statist I must hate Whose face is all Mosaick intricate And ful of artificial gravitie Talks to himself where e'r he goes with eie By speculation downward fixt though he Looks higher than his foretop hopes to be O' th' Privie Councel and wil whispring tel News known as doubtful as an Oracle This is that other earwig crept into Cosmus