would enslave their awe But pass we hence to Scaevola's greater fame Where Tullie's richest words exalt his Name And Lelius did with him of Friendship treat With Caius Fannus soon after di'd the great And warlike Scipio from Affrick not more fam'd Than in this Treatise we have Lelius nam'd Which from me Atticus thy Love requir'd Nor is there subject more my Soul defir'd Than Friendship gives the Gold of Worth and Love Which does mankinde to noblest acts improve Of Cato's prudent age before I writ And thought its Patronage might thee befit He wisely liv'd but flourish'd most in years Which reason Mankind's fâ—mest staff most fears So much his Wisdom did my Soul delight That more his words than mine I strove to write The same for Lelius here my Pen would do Whose sage desert's convey'd with Cato's too Think now he speaks or dictates to my Theam As it admir'd th' immortal Cato's Name Lelius to Scipio-Affrican a Friend What praise or greatness farther can extend And thus to Fannus Lelius had exprest Fan. Who then reply'd Let our discourse not fist With too short mention of his mighty fame That rais'd the honour of our Roman Name Of his and Cato's worth who would not hear To which our Senate such respect did bear Thy graces too for ever Fame must own Not lâ—ss to us than to wise Cato known Gifts of thy minde too great for to compare But with his People Senate held so dear Thou wise from Nature Manners study too What more than these could Cato's merit show Thy Prudence does felicity so place As 't is the Gole for thy swift Vertues race And accidents of man dost so despise That thou instructest Fortune to be wise Of me and Scaevola thy great Friends have sought How Scipio's death did wound thy noble thought Because that in these Nones thou did'st not come To Brutus Gardens the delight of Rome Where no day pass'd but we from thee might hear Thy prudent Comments so divinely rare Appli'd to things most high import mankinde Bestowing thus the Treasures of thy minde Scaev. True I must witness what our Fannus spake When thy Friends griev'd lâ—st Lelius Soul might take Too strict a sorrow for great Scipio's death Or bid adieu to life on wings of breath To which I answer'd though I had observ'd Thou in thy value of him had'st not swerv'd From moderation best declares the wise Yet might thy Soul be pierc'd with humane eyes No grief could there be wanting does become The Friend of Scipio and concern of Rome But for what cause thou hast withdrawn of late To sorrow or thy sickness does relate Lel. Of me kinde Scaevola has justly spoke Nor has my Soul such vain impression took That I can mourn one hapless hour away Which duty to my Countrey bids me pay This Constancy expects and Rome of me Which for no sorrow must neglected be Great Scipio's Friendship I admired more Than my best thoughts can e're his loss deplore His vertue best instructeth me to know How Publick-duty private does allow This in our Zamas Battel was beheld When Romans did their lives to glory yield He wept not in that day one Roman's fall But joy'd their Valours forc'd their Funeral And should I mourn his death who di'd so great ' Twou'd look as if Fate could his Fame defeat But ere I more of his high vertue speak Thy Love does Fannus me too equal make To matchless Cato who chief of Mortals knew What humane Wisdom most became to do Nor think that mighty Sage Apollo chose Before his Prudence could himself propose His deeds and sayings might have added sense To what Greeks feign their Oracles dispense But to my Scipio I will now return And tell you how my Soul his death does mourn Should I depriv'd of him my loss deny 'T were worse than Stoïcal stupidity Touch'd I am deeply and may truly say My Soul's best joy deceas'd in his last day Nor can I hope that man shall ever be Grac'd as I was with such an Amity He dy'd so great that 't were my Friendship 's crime To wish he liv'd to dye a second time Which does present such comfort to my Soul That I the world 's fond way of grief controul No hurt to Scipio could by death accrew His famous loss to me most harm did do Though too much my misfortune to lament Were a concern too great in my content His vertue did arrive to such a height That more Immortal 't is than Stars or light What did he not accomplish man can praise Or who a wish above his deeds would raise How much did Rome his Noble youth admire Majestick great yet full of Martial fire His Unckle Father both great Consuls Slain In one dayes Field fierce Annibal did gain Whose Fate and Carthage were reserv'd to be The fame and glory of his victory Romes Consulship he never did demand His vertue not himself did for it stand Though twice that honour'd office he has grac'd Once before due as soon when due so plac'd Wars present future Triumphs he obtain'd Whil'st Carthage conquer'd what power next remain'd For Empire of the world with Rome durst cope So much his deeds oblig'd her warlike hope His manners to his actions honour were Subduing passions Nature's roughest War He Armies taught the worth of Civil Laws Which more Victorious made Rome's Martial cause 'T were endless all his graces to declare What pious Son his Mother held so dear Liberal to such alli'd to his high blood Just unto all to Friends most kindly good These deeds I doubt not are well known to you And how our City him lamented too That Crown'd his end and who 'd be valu'd more Than him great Rome held worthy to deplore Each year he liv'd more joy his past still brought Who aged di'd yet unimpair'd in thought His Life so great that Death it self took care For his Soul's flight his Bodies pain to spare The day before his last auspicious come When him our Conscript-Fathers waited home To us foreshew'd that Romes rewarding Gods Would soon demand him to their bless'd abodes Who can consider his desert and say Souls dye and live our Bodies Mortal way This made me judge how wise and pious thought Religious rites unto mans practice brought Concluding that Immortal Souls must be Disrob'd of Sense their mean felicity A Theorem our Ancients held Divine And as 't was worthy Scipio's so 't is mine He it confirm'd almost with his last breath To shew he better things did hope by death Wherefore his end my friendship can't lament Since Heaven in him receives a full content Nay could I think that Souls with Bodies dye And felt no more of humane misery 'T is palpable that as death brings no good So it our hurt cannot be understood In Scipio dead I am bless'd as I rejoyce My Soul 's high honour in his Loves great choice From him I learn'd what friendship did import And saw its meanness in the vulgar
the concern of men to conceive their present defects and vices worse than such preceded them And yet I am satisfied enough that there have been times as exquisitely bad as ours can be pretended to be The Art of deceit and lying I finde somewhat ancienter than the Trojan Horse and the Poets Sinon notwithstanding the pretended ingenuity and sanctimony of his Character but the mischief is that what they render'd most odious we frequently practise to be more customary and curious in it If I were asked whether I would have trusted a Porter or Groom belonging to our Ancestors before some magnifyed honour and Heroes of this Age I should take leave without asking many of their pardons to grant the affirmative I cannot admire a modish trick or deceit though delivered by the most splendid Tongue or Name Where the Heart has cause to be ashamed there is great reason to blush for our words However we are somewhat beholding to the practises of our time in that a Mediocrity or small degree of vertue is able to pass so well amongst us whereas a stricter Age would be more incompatible in teaching us to be good I could say as much of Wit and other pretended accomplishments but they have been touched elsewhere or not further necessary to be mentioned in this place Of Living and Dying I Will joyn these together because they are considered more than they ought asunder they are too familiarly acquainted to be set at distance and are but the common and evident revolutions of Nature which gets as much by Death as she can do by Life if one thing dye another lives out on 't is too much a common place of Philosophy to be insisted on I will therefore deal here with their effects or similitude though we cannot live after death the same I finde we dye much after the same rate we liv'd the use of life is but to instruct death and as we manage the first so we for the most part conclude with the other If our first acts are good there is some hope of a better at last if not the contrary and thus very generally we leave the world The cure of the Soul when we are to dye is not less difficult than the reparation of the Body To quit a Disease that has been long upon us is not easily done in a few moments A long Journey is troublesome to provide for in too short a warning the very haste does enforce us to leave something necessary behinde us Wherefore might I have my wish I would dye timely and by degrees and I am no less beholding to Nature if my end be so sitted that I be not precipitately thrust out of the world by death either as it respects Youth or Age I cannot but pity it wheresoever I observe it I would be some time a consuming and by parts before I do it altogether I hold it the most familiar way of Nature so to dispose of us and I would not have her purposely go out of her way for me wherefore I am much more desirous to go off with a Consumption than a Feaver the first as a convenient warning of my dissolution which it prepares in part beforehand whereas the other has too much of heat and Distemper Inever affected Drunkenness and I should be loath to have any thing like its humour in my Brain dying I much approve a handsome correspondency of Life and Death I would not be altogether the same dying and living yet not so as to attempt a Metamorphosis of my constitution at the time I am to be transformed by Nature If I have lived a Gentleman I should be loath to turn a Cynick or Capuchine near the minute of my departure if I cannot more mannerly take leave of my self in leaving of the world I shall not endeavour at that time to court Heaven morosely and in a form would not have becom'd me before Besides it shews too much forgetfulness apprehension or despair to put on a disguise or absolutely to personate another Character so near our End A good man has a hard part to Act Living and Dying but I would not expect such a strict Decorum in the last that like a Player's it must needs have an Exit in the greatest word or thing our Wit and Memory are generally too frail especially at that time for extraordinary heights if a mans last day be not much the worst he ought not to be so extraordinary ambitious as by its means to aspire to his best I cannot but observe too many Austerities Surges and windings in the Avenues of Christian practice one while posting over the Alps to Rome another time whip'd and spur'd to Geneva as if Faith must gad out of our own Countrey of necessity besides we are not seldom too remiss and again as rigorous in our devotions Wherefore I could wish our manners and piety were more smooth and facile which were both Ethical and Natural and not as if we had not so much to do for our selves as others for us If this excellency be admired in most of the Ancient Philosophers it does no less highly merit an esteem whose precepts were equally familiar and complaisant to good manners and belief and by consequence could guide themselves accordingly If there were here and there a Diogenes amongst them a Morose or Cynical Christian may look as odly amongst us I would neither choose the confinement of a Tub or a Temple such extraordinary and irregular examples of Living and Dying take me not austerity and sullenness may be as much in its kinde a form or mode as capping of the Hat or cringing the Knee it is one thing to retire wisely as I have instanc'd already and another to be so dogged as to bite our selves I cannot blame any thing so much in the Heroick vertue and constancy of the Romans as their voluntary Deaths and Suicides as if they were obliged to live no longer than they thought fit themselves or when their vertue was not successful or practicable with others or that of necessity they must dye when other men would not be good with them I had as live fee a Childe cry for what he has lost as hear of an Heroick that kills himself for losing that he cannot keep the first I am sure is more natural and this was the case of Cato Brutus and the like What a Tragedy is it to think of Cato's dying and tearing his Bowels in such a displeasure with the world or what was more odious to his severity the sight of Caesar and his good fortune or Vultum Tyrannidis as Cicero calls it We may imagine the same of Brutus when defeated by Augustus and even with disdain and contempt of vertue he had so Stoically serv'd O misera virtus ergo nil nisi verba eras Sed ego te tanquam rem exercebam sed tu Serviebas fortunae Which I judge to be some oversight in so great a man in expecting a certain
did'st spring Thou wert full grown soon as the world and she Waiting to spread thy Immaterial wing And side by side with her to move Before she would her self improve Of thee she Mathematick Counsel took E're she set forward to pursue The mighty measures in her Book Or did one act of wonder do Nor had men known without thy night and day Whether Nature did for ever work or play 2. To all things else she Life and Bodies gave But thou her Incorporeal Childe Mysteriously must neither have Whil'st Death her every individual's Grave Of nothing but thy self 's beguil'd That with her thou might'st live to see Thy life continue her Eternity 3. Through all Horizons of the Universe Thou dost at once thy wondrous self disperse Each Star his Circle by thy Rule does guide Nay who can chuse but think Should'st thou stand still or step aside But that the Sun would leave his Zodiack too And bid his bounteous Eye for sorrow wink If for the worlds sake he no more might know The blessing of his Dayes and Hours And see his Heaven on Earth in Spring and Summer-flowers 4. So far above our Reasons search thou art That all the Idea of thy self men frame Does like some mighty nothing seem Thou motion guid'st and yet no motion art Thy being yet thou never did'st impart So much as in aspiring Poets dream Their busie Pencils can't thy figure take Thou steal'st away both as we sleep and wake Yet thy flight never was too swift or slow In Heaven or Earth one Minute's space Thy unerring Dyals under ground can go Thy silent feet 'twixt Life and Death still trace Keeping account how both Live and Decease Which contraries so far agree That Life and Death alike conversions be Of thine and Nature's living equally 5. VVhen learned Antiquaries search thy Rolls They Ages finde but can't thy Age compute From thy Epocha early thou set'st out E're man could read his being in thy Scrolls VVhil'st he laments thy too profound neglect Since he might have from thee more surely known VVhat did thy being and his own effect VVhether God's fiat man produc'd of clay Or that he started out of Earth some unknown way VVhich Nature by design or chance does ovvn 6. From what stupendious center first was took The point from whence began thy mighty round No Line or Character in Nature's Book Does shew us where thy self is found No more than how this world alas To our sense first produced was Or whence light did proceed to be Guided by the Sun and thee When thy Clocks told the world 't was day Before he durst the morning wake Or wisely could direct his way Who then of men his height did take Or saw his steeds their flaming steps first make 7. We use thee most of things yet know thee not Thou seem'st to us to have thy self forgot Yet best of faculties in the Worlds great Soul Whose Memory does far surmount All but thine own Account The sum of that vast Circles square Which cannot be computed here Unless our measures scale that endless Rule That 's more eternal than the world is old To most Prophetick Reason never yet was told On former Poets THough Death's pale Scepter men obey Their written Wit does last decay Surviving that resistless fate Does Soul and Body separate And of all mortal acts we see Comes nearest Immortality Thus Johnson's Wit we still admire With Beaumont Fletcher's lasting sire And mighty Shakespear's nimble vein Whose haste we only now complain His Muse first post was fain to go That first from him we Plays might know Though in each Muse of theirs we finde VVhat 's now above all humane kinde Our greatest Wit is to allow We cannot write as they could do Which time succeeding proves so good That 't is not yet well understood As if it were our fate to be In Wits perpetual Infancy Strong plots like theirs we can't disgest But like to Children think that best Which trifles with our appetite And judge as ill as now we write Though long our Story boasts great Kings Not every Raign good Poet sings Nature is pleas'd not to permit A propagation of their Wit Confessing that her mighty store Is not so rich as 't was before Poets are Prodigies of men And such she gives but now and then To Gyant-Wit 't is only given T' aspire unto the Muses Heaven If so inspir'd had been the bold We read Olympus storm'd of old Jove would have lay'd his Thunder by And welcom'd their Society To his Muse ENough my Muse thou hast play'd 't is time to rest Now I grow old thou art past or at thy best Thy Wit like Beauty most should Youth inspire With me thou may'st take cold by thy own fire Too much thy Gamesome thoughts I have obey'd Too tart for some thy Salt my Verse has made What Beauty will be Charm'd with what I say Or write of Love if it 's no Part I play Naso's soft Arts his fair Corinna knew And what he Sung 't is thought did practise too Thalia blusheth most in woods to sing When Poets from her Verse receive no spring Tersicore Heroickly does hate The loftiest Muse that Love Invites too late Here pausing thus to me my Muse begun Would'st thou be peevish with my cheerful Song On which the youthful will bestow a smile And to this froward Age commend thy toyle Thy Salt may please th' Ingenious Criticks taste And sleight th' unseason'd jeers which others waste Is' t not enough I do rejoyce thy Song And call thy Love and Verse for ever young My Bays to future time appear most green When nought of Poets but their Souls are seen My pleasing charms the serious entertain And in the Aged youthful Wit maintain From my Records men best their manners read The Comick good which now the Stage does need Waste not thy self or make more tedious Night With high and labour'd Songs I can delight The smooth-writ Elegy or short way The witty Martial with the world did play Rome's Empire's greatness and its crimes are known From that full sense his nimble Line 's have shown The Muses value all proportions fit And what 's call'd little may have much of VVit She ended thus and next presents my Pen VVhich if I finde inspir'd I 'll write agen Miscellanies or Essayes I Thank Heaven that I have taken so far leave of my Muse as to come from Verse to Prose which I take to be somewhat a better way of Writing plain English though I find I can cramp Words as well as another or leave a Line with a foot or two of sense more than it needs and besides that I have as many to 's and do's prove's and love's with such other necessary Implements as the best Toner of them all There 's nothing that I find our Language so plentifully affords or that falls on my pate with so little invocation of my sense as Rhime does I find it fattens the most
Think 't not Inglorious to prevail If by my Tongue I first assail Though all by it I can express Is short of what I bid thee guess Of Loving unadvis'd ASk not my Soul why 't is I love No more than why our Heaven 's above Love has its causes there conceal'd With mysteries to be reveal'd Then think bold Reason that thy Sense Disputes but with Omnipotence Thou't say perhaps I yield too soon So doth our Lives to Death alone Which if it lays on but a Hand Dissolves us straight at its command And shall not Love's immortal fire Kindle more swift then we expire Ask me no more then why or who I love because I must do so Nor need I pity to my heart Pleas'd with Love's wounds alone to smart On a Lady walking in Grayes-Inne-Walks THrice Lovely Maid as thou these Walks dost grace Soft Birds salute thy coming hither More than the Springs whose Beautie 's thine disgrace That blooming May does seem to wither Vexatious Lawyers that for Clients Gold Their wrangling Theams contemplate here Will wish their Tongues at they shall thee behold Had that soft quilt to bribe 〈◊〉 Ear. Or else perhaps unto thy beauteous fame These shades will henceforth Dedicate As once to Cyprus Venus gave a Name Though not of such Immortal date And thus amongst bright Beauties thee I spy'd Such difference have the Stars and Sun As if thy Glories did the rest so guide As they for Beams about him run Some that thou art Brown or Black perhaps will say Though that 's to me than fair more bright And who 'd not give some Blessings of the Day To be the only Queen of Night Forgive me then if charm'd with soft desires And who but wish'd as well as I Who more attempts too boldly do's aspire And by thy frowns deserves to dye Yet I would Ravish all thy pleasing Dreams Of Love when it enjoy'd thy Breast So as my Sleeps might be its actual Theams And thus suppose thou art possest But thou wilt smile at this Platonick boast Thou art so much Woman I dare say As he that thinks to count without his Hoast Will still have something left to pay SONG FAirest Virgin tell my Love but why Thou art at once so Proud and Fair Since few deserve a Victory That can Insult by making War Yet as thou play'st the Tyrant know In looks consists thy greatest might And thus their Charms can Serpents show When they unkindly wound the sight But 't is my guilt as well as thine That makes thee thus In-glorious great I did to Love my Heart resigne And so Conspir'd with my Defeat Whil'st thou though glorying in thy Charms Perhaps at last may'st quit thy strength As Honour treats to lay down Arms So let thy Vertue yield at length To one who slighted his Mistress THou tell'st me that my Love is poor But thine has Land and Coyn I wish Friend so had mine And yet I envy not thy store Though I love Money full well too And know the wonders it can do 2. It Spirits Love and makes it Fine Give 's us best Meat and Wine I ne'r Friend like it knew I dare be sworn as well as you And yet I doat not to behold A Bristow-Stone though set in Gold 3. Then prethee Jack be well advis'd Think not thou art more Wise ' Cause Money brib'd thy Eyes While mine could not be so surpris'd And 't is thy Judgment less than spight Since thou'dst give boot to change a Night Vpon a Lady AS some bold Pencil do's attempt to draw Such bright perfections his frail Skill o're-awe And Nature but presents to let us know We are to wonder and pay duty so Thus is my Pen Ambitiously at strife How to Admire and yet Express the Life Of your fair Vertues which to all appear Pure as the Light Harmonious as the Sphear So great an all as like the Sun you move Quickning at once Divinity and Love But were I Persian and ador'd him too I 'de quit my Faith so I might worship you Your Vertues so dilate as thence mankinde Sum those bright Glories in your Sex they find Such taking greatness and such winning ease That where you scarce will look you more then please As if you gently fear'd our hearts surprize By beaming lustres from your conquering eyes How happy may you make a wounded Breast When Love in all does for your sake contest And Rival wonders which your graces raise In Tongues and Hearts that must adore their praise The Enjoyment or Corinne Concubitus Translated out of Ovid's Elegies WHen Sol's bright Orb gave middle time to day Retir'd from heat stretch'd on my Bed I lay One Window shut the other open stood As light here shadowing pass'd as in a Wood Or Evening twi-lights gentle beams convey Or that soft Instant night salutes the day Such tender glimmerings blushing Virgins Steal Who fear that â—ight will scarce their shame conceal And thus Corinna gently does appear With Robes ungirt in tender folds her hair Such fair Semiramis in Bed does shew Or Laïs dress'd who many Lovers knew Her Robes I sever with a tender hand While she resists that Love she wou'd command Seeming to strive wish'd freedom to restrain But soon betrayes the Conquest Love must gain Thus interposing vailes being now lay'd by How did she ravish both my Heart and Eye What beauteous Limbs and Parts I view and touch Breasts to Impress even Gods might wish for such As smooth a Belly under these did lye 'Twixt spacious Sides next them her youthful Thigh What should I more Re-count that all must praise Then on her Body mine I gently raise Who cannot guess the rest as thus we lay So let Meridians pass with me each day Vpon an Inn that Lodged me on a Journey BEing come to Lodge where night oblig'd my Rest I found an Inn that welcom'd me a Guest But such a one as scarce Arabian Thief Would shelter in though for his Lifes Reprieve Or wilder Scythian but must soon conclude Himself less barbarous than this place was rude And next A surly Sir the Hoast call'd here Drinks Cap't to shew me he dares vouch his Beer Worse far than ever Joyful Barly named As even our Island its vile taste defamed My Course first Serv'd was Mutton but so poor That it might well have ban'd seven years before Then next a Hen with wonder I behold Shrunk into Bones and like the Hostess old What fancy could have fed when every Sense Far'd worse than Pilgrim sent on Penitence These mis-Chiefs to Reprieve to Bed call I Hoping some Damosel with her by and by VVas yet Reserv'd to sweeten my Course fare And make my Bed more soft while she lay there But soon my hopes did wither while appears A Thing for Age might date Chineses years Eve would have blush'd t' have seen a Grandchild prove So Curs'd by Nature and forsook by Love Her Eyes seem'd beg'd of Death her Nose and Chin Kissed and
so clos'd her famish'd Lips between I thought at first had been Death come to call Me by this Herald to my Funeral Or borrowed Shape of Witch that did appear To vex sad Guests by some Inchantments here Then I dispatch'd to Bed in hope Sleep might Reprieve the Ills seem'd threatned me this Night But there scarce Luke-warm lay'd but in a trice I felt worse Vermin than Curs'd Egypts Lice Fleas they call here this vexful nimble brood That long had suck'd the painful Carriers blood And now from this bold Custom dare maintain No blood so generous but their Lips may stain Thus in a moment did this active Crew Assault each Vein and from each loaded flew More swift than labouring Bees as if that I Had been all Honey for this nimble fly Sometimes I fear'd they would have made their prey On Soul and Body by this subtle way And as bold Epicurus once did call Atoms the VVorld's and Man's Original So seem'd these Particles of Life to try To suck mine too a like subsistency In this Amaze my Bed I soon forsake And from my Thoughts the swiftest Counsel take Which as I did the Sun in pitty shows Such chearful Beams as from glad Morning flowes I wish'd my Horse as swift as his that I From Night's worst Mansions this vile Inn might fly And that all Guests which next have Lodging here Might fewer Fleas there finde and better Cheer Love's Sympathy FRom Love the Loadstone Sympathy do's feel To which do's gently yield the hardn'd steel The Marble do's its hidden flames lament As on its smoothest Face Love's tears are spent For Love there 's nothing that do's want a sense What grows or lives partakes its Influence Each metals pond'rous Soul it 's like do's move And what 's not Gold partakes the Gold of Love The Diamond then more beaming Lustre wears When her transparent Male his flame prepares How Nature could thus Love and Life disperse Is too transcendent for my Thought or Verse Enough we know it is her kinder care That all subsistencies her Lovers are To every Sex she has a Sex assign'd Not as Men are by Hymen's Laws confin'd Nature do's not her limits so contract Love claims from her a larger Scope to act Man's Reason though the highest Lord of Sense Is forc'd to yield to its Omnipotence And thus we see its powerful Charms compel VVhen Mothers somtimes Love their Sons too well And Daughters can with Fathers do the same And so the Brother Courts the Sisters flame VVhether Venus then do's blush we cannot know Though near ally'd some tell her feat best do Laws may severely call it Nature's Sin Yet she has made for Love each Sex a Kin. On a Ladies little Dog THe gentle favours I perceive You oft this little Creature give With those Embraces and those kisses So many Mortals make their wishes My Muse is willing to record Since you are pleas'd to say the word 2. All that quaint Martial's Pen could raise To offer to smooth Catella Publii Epig 110. lib. 1. Issa's praise Is short of this you stroke and Love Yours though a Dog was meant a Dove Whil'st Nature pleas'd with her mistake Thus shap'd it chiefly for your sake 3. No Virgin in your Bed does lye But there does keep it Company On whom perhaps 't will fawn or creep But does your bosom chuse for sleep Though Cupid envy there its rest Who 'twixt your Breasts designs his Nest 4. Sometimes perhaps it farther gets Under your Smock as well as Sheets And so your Belly licks and Thighs I do not say what 'twixt them lyes Though Tongues polluted oft have bin This could not be a licking Sin 5. And as you thus Indulge its sleep Or wou'd with yours its slumbers keep This little Sentinel's awake T' defend the quiet which you take The Mouse it frighteth to her hold Lest her small noise be then too bold 6. No Joy or Sorrow is your own But by this Creature too is known So strangely taught by Nature's Book That it discerns your thought or look A Tongue it wants not much to speak Yet one does wish too for your sake Love Defined LOve is a Dwarf in Gyants Cloath Wearing the Robes which Lust bestows Loaded with vice yet nimblest so And by its power can wonders do Most surely purchas'd though most dear And yet more common far than rare A Spiritual being in a Humane Soul The Boy of Age and Fool of Youth Vertue its Lye and Lust its Truth This the nice Widows early know As they digest a Second Vow Though it provoke their Childrens Tears The Itch of Love takes up their cares The Virgin at Fourteen can grieve So long her Maiden-head should live Though hearts and looks Love's Language tell The pleasure is in Lust's small Cell Where Womans Love with Mans does meet And from their Tongues receive no cheat For this each Sex their Courtships show And all that Both the Thing may do If dull Platonicks will rejoyce In calling Love their Vertues choice Their dry desires such need not blame That can enjoy the Liquid flame Whoe're for Vertue Love would Paint Must partly make of Lust the Saint The Fair and Honest ask no more Then what 's illegal in a Whore The old One A Lady Old would needs a Loving go Which soon her long desire comply'd unto Her fancy she found young and bold her Lust Hâ—r outward form she next to Wit does trust Wants she found some in every place but one Where Nature keeps desire when her part 's done So when the Earth cannot its teeming show It is refresh'd at least where Soil men throw The furrows in her Face her Womans Hand Neatly fill'd up and seem'd to Countermand Nature's decayes with her false Red and White Seeming by Day what she 'd be thought at Night Thus she adulterates her Teeth and Hairs And in despite of Nature young appears A flatt'ring Gallant feigns no fault to finde For we 'l suppose his ends oblig'd him kinde Through Love's own Region he attempts his way But finds he cannot Plough so deep in clay Her stiffness his oppos'd but fain would plye Though that was clos'd so long did open lye A Maiden-head he knew she could not have Yet more then Virgin did his entrance crave But such the Riddle is of Women old Their Lust is warm when Nature is most cold The Witty WIt in a Woman I desire With it she quickens best Love's fire A Whetstone sharpens most the Tool That something blunts when she 's a Fool. Dull if she be she 'l not soon know The heights belong to what we do And she that has in Love no trick Will hardly reach her Lover's nick But give me still a handsom Face I 'le fancy Wit in t'other place So well to man that part does fit She needs must feel she has there some wit For Love what VVoman wants a Soul Or can be call'd Dame-Nature's Fool. VVhere Beauty can't with VVit agree Give