Endeare us to our God for new defence But would you be reveng'd then thus let 't be Plot so as he that made the eye may'nt see To the right honourable the C. of Dâ—RSET Promising a Gentleman her 〈◊〉 in marriage MADAM THe charmefull language from your lips distilld My ravisht eares with heavenly musick fill'd Had I led Love unto your Neeces heart And praid him there transsix his keenest dart His being blind would have left him exempt From penalty And charg'd the whole attempt On my accompt whose boldnes durst aspire Prometheus like unto celestiall fire T were secriledged and just such to bereave Diaâ—â— of a Numph without her leave Or steal a starre from off his region Whilst Phebe slept with her Endymion I had been fellon to your honours bloud And stolne a cignet from that royall floud Had not your grace first given me my book The golden Scepter of your gracious look But now with humble confidence I resort To this faire stream having your warrant for 't Only let me beseech your honour that You 'd ratifie it with a second date Then being armd with this encouragement My next addresse is to the Lady bent My fortunes balance on whose only breath ' Depends the sentence of my life or death If such a match felicitate my life I le treat her as â—y Mistresse though my wisse I le study what may please her and contend With fate to make her happie to the end As for you gratious madam deigne mee still The clear beames of your ladyships good will So shall I be assur'd what I commence Shall ripne in such sun light influence Meane while no thought shall from my breast arise But what I dare present as sacrifice Thus J returne my selfe to both whilst shee Possesse my heart your grace commands my knee The weavers Memento mori AN honest weaver willing to make suer His soule and body with arts ligatur Betooke him to his trade and having got The knack on 't knit them on a weavers knot But death a craftie merchant found a brack And let him plainely see t' would hould no tack Here 's stufâ—e quoth hee alas t' will scarse be worth The looking on when J have laid it forth Where is the fresh gloss is this the lively red You spake of tush t is â—aded fled and dead Alack and well â— day the weaver said How dearly have for this colour paid And yet it gives you no content but J. Poore â— must let must leave my work and die Ah! mee impartiall death where thou dost come Thou either cutst of or concludst the thrum My beame is strong but strengh will not prevaile Golyah's speare stout as my beame did faile My nimble shuttle flitting here and there Presents my life 's in stable character Mark but how swift it to its exit tendes So fleetly fly wee all unto our our ends Jt puts but forth and at its port arives So doth our death begin even with our lives My globe like wheel about its pole is hurld Just as the heavens are rapt about the world And turning to my filling boy behind me ' His winding pipes does of my wind pipe mind mee Jf hee stand still J must not work if the aire Fill not my pipes my work will soon impaire A constant motion to my trade belongs So nature hath her loome my breast my lungs My blouds ' her posting shutle swiftly flies Through the strait conduits of my arteries My purple veines her warping is my haire My tendons find my nerves her tackling are My solid parts my able bones are some Appointed beames some holdfasts of her loome And thus in there owne lomes doe all men weavâ— And women too from cradle to theire grave Nor cease wee all above a minites breath Till wee be turned out of worke by death Thus from those instruments by which Jearnt My livelyhood to dye I likewise learnt I looke but on my eyes And I can read In them the seperation of my thread In laying of my coulours still I found The lowest a memento of the ground The fashions teach mee since they keep no stay The fashion of this world passesaway Come then and wellcome death I have enough Of this vaine world It s fraile and druggie stuffe Can tempt mine eyes no more come fetch me home I le give my life for death my loome for lome To Constantia Let others ply the oares t'wixt doubts and feares For I am past those rocks those tydes of tears My sullen starre is fallen warr 's past and I Laiden with trophies of my victorie How doe I blesse my fate that I did meet With one so 〈◊〉 so faithfull and so sweet My humble knee bowes henceforth to no shrine Though Venus were thy rivall but to thine Happy my dearest happie hee may lye Vnder the tropick of thy gracious eye Nothing but death shall my firme faith remove Nothing but the cold flore shall coole my love The Gâ—rdeon knot that could not be unty'd By art did Alexanders sword divide Our love knot 's faster nor shall armes nor arts Vnlink the chain of our vnited hearts The noon-eyd sun may chance run retrograde And as a Daphne follow his own shade Heaven may descend to earth And earth aspire To Heaven And water be at peace with fire Fishes and fowles may change their elements And take a glory in their new contents But when I faile but when I cease to love The center shall from its fixt base remove VVhen I divid the thread our loves have spun The streames shall back upon there fountaines run This I conclude a possibiltie J may forget my name but never thee Ceres cickle whether art thou gone See'st not our hopes into full harvest growne Come boonest â—acchus come let 's have a health To our best wishes love hath store of wealth View here our vintage see our blest increase Of swelling grapes that only want the presse Hast Hymen hast for wee must find in you The end of our desires and verses too To Bovino You bull it Sir as if you meant a prize VVith milo at the bovine exercise Push for wardâ— your good motion Sir you may Encrease my landlords cornucopia But to speake naked truth they say that you Doe not run to the bull but to the cow VVhere you your selfe in manner of a bull Doe give Europa her white belly full And as t is fit you should haveing gone halves In getting now you help to keepe the Calves But have a care St. Stephens wide gates are near You 'l run your selfe ouâ— ere you be aware The FLEETS MY wishes greet The English fleet May no stormes tosse The Harp and Crosse Smile gentle fate Vpon our State Attend all health This Common wealth The Navie of the Dutch I all good fortunes grutch Vantrump and his Sea forces Shall have my daily curses Vpon the Dutch and Dane VVait their eternall bane The Cavalering part I vallew not a fart To adrunken
his exerciâ—o He pipes dances and he dyes And when passing we can tell For he rings out his own knell Vpon his second time being dead drunk LOe here Dead as the bere Was drawn last yeare And Coffind up In a lost Cup Lyes litle heart O Who like a fart O Did now depart O T was ruffe And with a puffe Out went the snuffe Alas how soon T is after noon This morning hee O Was companie O For thee or mee O. â—nd tooke Ahe Spanish smoke Into his poke As if he meant Sir by consent To tune his pipe O But being ripe O Began to type O But P O No more but so T is Oliver O Le ts oversee This scape for hee The truth to tell O Till he was mellow Was a good fellow And shall to morrow morning make 's approach As quick and lively as the fresh abroach An Epitaph upon a Weaver HEre lyes a Weaver whom that Turk And tyrant death turn'd out of work Poore fellow he is gone what though Hee 's out of bonds would I were so Alas he sold Chamelion ware By which he sav'd scarce ought but aire Gone quoth heeâ— pray how should he stay Such gaine will drive us all away Well t was a sad aâ—d suddaine change And yet to me t is nothing strange For trading 's dead and wares will give No price at all how should he live An Epitaph Dedicate to the Memorie of Dr. Ed. Cook UNsluce your Captive flouds what can ye keep Your eyes from teares and see the Marble weep Burst out for shame or if yee find no vent For greife yet stay and see the stones relent Jf still you can forbâ—are weepe then to see Your stupid hearts more stone then Niobe On goodwife Plaine Here with out either welt or gard Lyes goody Plaine in the Church yard Fresh in our memoryes till the next raine Setle the earth againe downe plaine On W. G. A great swearer but litle lyar VVill the swearer 's dead and gon VVhether you may guesse anon Say hee is inheaven J dare not Jn that sacred place they sweare not VVhere then not in hell no doubt For heed sweare the devill ouâ— What must then become of him Does hee neither sinck nor swim Heavens forbid wel'l judge the best And conclude his souls ' at rest Of his oathes hee did repent him And his conscience do'unt torment him And hee shall heavens mercy crav'd By Gods bloud and wounds be sav'd In memoriam Roberti Dey Pharmacap Norv Arts Parramour is dead that men may see Nature hath noâ— hold of eternitie O that my teares were legible that J And my sad muse might weep his elegie Norwich in sorrows weeds attend his urne Iâ— not for his yet for your owne sakes mourne Remember cittizens yee us'd to fly To sue out your reprives from death to Dy Whose salutifierous magazine of artes Was your cheife Sanctuary against death's darts There feeble nature in a trice might be Arm'd against all disseases Cap ape But hee Is gone and in a good old age Tooke his calme Exit of a turbulent stage His death as harmelesse as his birth from whence His years were crownd with double innocence good VVhilst wee for so perhaps heavens have thought Are left to write our stories in our bloud Time's syth hath wounded him but hee hath gâ—t Such semper-vivum as hee feels it not VVith faith hope charitie contrition He made up his Celestiall composition And with an unctious name hee mixt a Roll Of Gratia deâ— for his wounded soule Now his thread yeilded to the Sisters knife For Aqua-vitae hee drinkes water of life Much might unto his prayses spoken be And only this one truth namely that hee Even Dey the true Apothecary was All that are left are but synoyma's To the perpetuall memory of my ever honoured Cozen Mr. E. H. Vnder this sad marble lyes Natures pride and beauties prize Such so sweet her accents were As would charme a Syrens eare Such her modest mode as shee Taught the turtle charitie Jn summe a more veruous wife Never sweetend husbands life To conclude then all was shee Man could wish or woman be Who lyes here like treasure found Not above but under ground A Legacie to VRBANIA an unworthy Cittie Citty ingrate nay worse but I le include All your good nature in ingratitude Wellfare your costly swordes which now yee wouâ—d As faine encrimson in my inocent bloud As ere yee wisht m' Crucifige accept you ah you Hosanna cry and hosenecha too Js it in this in this J pray I wrong yee To spend my selfe and my estate among yee Jf weary steps to make your Citty flourish If head if heart if Purse employ'd to nourish Widows distrest and orphans be a crime Grant heaven no worse offence take up my time Bark on black mouthed envie yee as soone Affright mee as the Syrian wolves the moone Nor doe J envie those have sought with cost The honourable trouble J have lost Lord fill my hart with thanks my mouth with praise My haires may yet see halcyon dayes God guards mee still though I 've no swordes t t' davance Though no fine cap God is my maintenance In Hono rem Poetarum WHose poore conceit is that That Poets should be poore They talk they know not what Alas they wish no more They have Enough in that they see Content is worth a monarchy Do not the sacred Nine Come daily to their houses And break their fast and dine And sup and soop carouses Who calls them poore then that are able To feast the Muses at their table Yee go to Poets when Your dearest friends be dead They give them life agen Though they be buried T is strange then Poets should not live That thus can life to dead men give Yea all the world must know Save those to truth averse The swaine was taught to plow By Virgills fertil verse T is strange then he should needy be Found out the art of Husbandry Riplie was rich I trow VVhose Poems did enfold That which men hunt for soe The art of making Gold He had the Phylosophick stone Sure hee must then be ricâ— or none Yea do not all men say Poets dare any thing Pray was not noble May Calld brother by a King Nor is it more then true report Satyrick lines have hang'd a sort Euridice could tell That being ravisht hence Bold Orpheus ransackt hell And rescu'd her from thence Yea verses so Magnetick are They fetch the Moon down from the sphear Nor have they only power But gifts of prophesie The most celestiall dower Heavens give mortalitie Sure then they can't want costly Cates Being Oracles and Potentates They that have most still itch For more more baggs to stuffe VVhilst they are only rich Can see they have enuffe How poorly fools of Poets prate Come they are poore whom God doth hate Princeps Vates non quovis nascitur anno Man WHat time Iehovah heaven earths Creâ—tor Had
hid treasure Nil non laudabile vidi To my Coy Charola 1. YOu cannot love for shame Come blush your self into a penitent flame Does the choice flowre resist Because the faire stâ—n enjoy 't that lift Or the eye-taking fruit Plead not yet ripe away there needs no suit Why women are as truly ours To be enjoy'd as fruit or flowres But t is our fault That we exhalt Them so that they rebell against our powres 2. COme come yet I affect yee If you can't love again Let me direct yee 'T may be 'cause you are fair And levigable as the downy aire You stand upon 't you will not yeeld But Phoenix-like your self will build Do so and then Repent agen When Autumne hath possess'd your own fair field 3. BUt oh behold I woo VVho should command I beg and glad on 't too My Charola admires Since she is Ice I so complain of fires Had she a flaming Dart She would improv't to warm her own cold heart Ah me does not Dame nature stint Her flame-begetting sparks to flint Pray do but feel The stone-cold steel And if you can say there 's no fire within 't 4. But ah my vaine complaint My Obsequies attend a scornfull Saint Water by dropping oft Is wont to make the hardest marble soft But my moist eyes procure No gentlenes but rather make obdure But I have done my do for I Find all things meere in misery And to survive In vain I strive Since I have seen an Angel I must dye 5. How dye why so did not The Queen of Beauty on Adonis dote And Paris confident eyes Survey the features of three Deities Ah but far more divine Is my fair Saint then Paris triviall Trine Whom while I court my hopes but reare A fancy'd Castle in the Aire Not unlike those That do suppose Their wish effected in a falling Star Credo equidem nec vana fides genus esse dearum Love-sick Lucilla to her unkinde Shepheard ANd must I dye and must I dye for love For love that makes me like the Gods above If I must dye what need these flames belike You 'l execute me as an Heretique But Momus teach me a new A. B. C. If firm and faithfull love be heresie If death must be the doom of love pray what Shall be the sentence of novercall hate If zealous love merit a mortall curse Sure hate a cold devotion merits worse Yet how unjust is this stories relate Many that dy'd for love but none for hate Is there no Herb that may my greifs remove No Antidore 'gainst this hot poyson Love Pitty yee Gods pitty my youth and beauty See how each Organ buckles to his duty Cannot my prayers cannot my tears prevail What shall â—y sighs my sobs my groans all fail Where is the Sisters thrift that goes about To cut my Thread ere it be half drawn out Let me but see the twylight of my age And then persue the utmost of your rage Why was Lucina present at my birth Whilst the propitious Gods promis'd me mirth Why came glâ—d Hymen with his Tapour light To mock me with the hopes of nuptiall night And why was Venus then ascendent why Did all the Graces grace me since I dye But while I thus in vain urge my complaint I loose my breath Ah me I fainr I faint Deficiam parvi temporis adde moram To Abstentia 1. I Never was in love Nor will be for my part I never felt the Archer move Alas he has no dart Or else no eyes to hit my heart 2. ANd yet doth love I vow In this my bosome reign â—ut I protest 't is not with you Pardon me Sir J tell you plain T is with Diana's Maiden train 3. ANd though J lend an eare When you present your Ditty Presume not J affect your geare Or you that would seem witty Good faith t is not in love but pitty 4. HEnce then poor flatterers J am and will be free Like those Celestiall Choristers I le hugg my liberty T is that and only that please me Phyllis Funerall COme now my Lambs your selves address Unto your dying Shepheardess Your appetites a while adjourn And pay your duty to â—y Urne In life my flock J follow'd thee In death J prethee follow me Come therefore twenty Lambs in black In white twice twenty at their back Twelve sable Ewes like Widows poore Shall as my mourners go before Six Weathers shall my bearours be Arraid in Negro's Liverie As dark as night and six againe As white as wooll support my train With silver tipps let every horne Our sad and solâ—mne state adorne Crescent as Phaebes let each front VVear a fresh Cypress wreath upon 't Let no rude ruslet here be seen Nor bloody redd But flourishing green Lamb black and purest white These three Summe up my perfect Elegie The black my Lambs doth signifie My losse of life your losse of mee The white does unto you relate My innocence and Virgin state The green does to the world proclaime My life in my immortall fame Now let mee shew yee my intent In my last Will and Testament First I this better part of mine To the Elizian shades resigne And whence I had it I bequeath To the next aire my borrow'd breath Fire shall again have what it lent And water to her Element Shall have recourse All shall returne My ashes also to my Urne In the next place I here dispence Unto my Lambs my innocence Moreover I assigne to them The grass green Meadow last nights dream Presented mee My Ramms are they Shall have my Cornucopia Item I leave my Virgin Zone Unto the Bud as yet uâ— blown My Purple Veynes resign to you Sweet Violets their azure hue Mâ— blushes to the Rose I give My white shall in the Lilly â—ve My golden Trelles shall repâ—ire The ruines of lost Maiden hair My Globes of light after this liâ—e Shall wait on Phoebus and his wife My lofâ—y my Majestick front I leave to Iâ— das sublime Mont. The Cherry or the Ruby rather The eincture from my lips shall gather This breast opposing th' other puts Me so in mind of Cupids Buts I cannot but to him demise The place so fit for exercise Lastly such as they wont receive Mine armes I to â—mbraces leave And now yee know what my last will is Farewell my Flock say farewell Phillis Plâ—no singultibus ore A young Gentleman to his Lady who lookt upon him as too immature MADAM I Love you should I not do so I were an Anchoritâ— and my Breast like Snow Yes I do love and humbly here commence Affection ushererd in with Reverence Deigne but your-lilly hand No bold desire Shall wing up my ambition any higher Nay if that be too much let me descry My rudeness chastiz'd in your scornfull eye I must confess these early years of mine May look on but not love Women nor Wine Not love sayd I who can but love a face So winning unless of Deucalions race