ask nothing but my due To call you false and then to say You shall not keep my Heart a day But alas against my will I must be your Captive still Ah! be kinder then for I Cannot change and wou'd not dye Kindness has resistless charmes All besides but weakly move Fiercest Anger it disarmes And clips the Wings of flying love Beauty does the Heart invade Kindness only can perswade It guilds the Lovers servile Chain And makes the Slave grow pleas'd again The Answer NOthing adds to your fond Fire More than scorn and cold disdain I to cherish your desire Kindness us'd but 't was in vain You insulted on your Slave Humble love you soon refus'd Hope not then a pow'r to have When ingloriously you us'd Think not Thirsis I will e're By my love my Empire loose You grow constant through despair Love return'd you wou'd abuse Though you still possess my Heart Scorne and rigor I must feign Ah! forgive that only Art Love has left your love to gain You that cou'd my Heart subdue To new Conquests ne're pretend Let your example make me true And of a Conquer'd Foe a Friend Then if e're I shou'd complain Of your Empire or my Chain Summon all your pow'rful Charmes And sell the Rebel in your Armes Song PHilis be gentler I advise Make up for time mispent When Beauty on its Death-bed lyes 'T is high time to repent Snch is the Malice of your Fate That makes you old so soon Your pleasure ever comes too late How early e're begun Think what a wretched thing is she Whose Stars contrive in spight The Morning of her love shou'd be Her faiding Beauties Night Then if to make your ruin more You 'll peevishly be coy Dye with the scandal of a Whore And never know the joy Song VVHat cruel pains Corinna takes To force that harmless frown When not a Charme her Face forsakes Love cannot loose his own So sweet a Face so soft a Heart Such Eyes so very kind Betray alas the silly Art Virtue had ill design'd Poor feeble Tyrant who in vain Wou'd proudly take upon her Against kind Nature to maintain Affected Rules of Honor. The scorn she bears so helpless proves When I plead passion to her That much she fears but more she loves Her Vassal shou'd undo her Womans Honor. L Ove bad me hope and I obey'd Philis continu'd still unkind Then you may e'ne despair he said In vain I strive to change her Mind Honor 's got in and keeps her Heart Durst he but venture once abroad In my own right I 'd take your part And shew my self the mightier God This huffing Honour domineers In Breast alone where he has place But if true gen'rous Love appears The Hector dare not shew his Face Let me still Languish and complain Be most unhumanely deny'd I have some pleasure in my pain She can have none with all her Pride I fall a Sacrifice to Love She lives a VVretch for Honours sake Whose Tyrant does most cruel prove The difference is not hard to make Consider real Honour then You 'll find hers cannot be the same 'T is Noble confidence in Men In VVomen mean mistrustful shame Song TO this moment a Rebel I throw down my Arms Great Love at first sight â—f Olindas bright charmes Made proud and secure by such â—orces as these You may now play the Tyrant as soon as you please When Innocence Beauty and VVit do conspire To betray aud engage and inflame my desire Why shou'd I decline what I cannot avoid And let pleasing hope by base fear be destroy'd Her innocence cannot contrive to undo me Her Beauty 's inclin'd or why shou'd it persue me And VVit has to pleasure been ever a Friend Then what room for despar since delight is Loves end There can be no danger in sweetness and youth Where Love is secur'd by good nature and truth On her Beauty I 'll gaze and of pleasure complain While ev'ry kind look adds a Link to my Chain T is more to maintain that in was to surprize But het VVit leads in triumph the Slave of her Eyes I beheld with the loss of my freedom before But hearing for ever must serve and adore Too bright is my Goddess her Temple too weak Retire Divine Image I feel my Heart break Help Love I dissolve in a Rapture of Charms At the thought of those joys I shou'd meet in her Armes Song HOw happy Cloris were they free Might our enjoyments prove But you with formal Jealousie Are still tormenting Love Let us since Wit instructs us how Raise Pleasure to the top If Rival Bottle you 'll allow I 'll suffer Rival Fop. Ther 's not a brisk insipid Spark That flutters in the Town But with your wanton Eyes you mark The Coxcomb for your own You never think it worth your care How empty nor how dull The Heads of your admirers are So that their Cods be full All this you freely may confess Yet we 'll not disagree For did you love your pleasure less You were not fit for me While I my passion to persue Am whole Nights taking in The lusty Juice of Grapes take you The lusty Juice of Men. Love and Life a Song ALL my past Life is mine no more The flying hours are gone Like transitory Dreams giv'n o're Whose Images are kept in store By Memory alone What ever is to come is not How can it then be mine The present Moment's all my Lot And that as fast as it is got Phillis is wolly thine Then talk not of inconstancy False Hearts and broken Vows If I by Miracle can be This live-long Minute true to thee 'T was all that Heav'n allows The Fall a Song HOw blest was the Created State Of Man and Woman e're they fell Compar'd to our unhappy Fate We need not fear another Hell Naked beneath cool Shades they lay Enjoyment waited on desire Each Member did their wills obey Nor cou'd a wish set pleasure higher But we poor Slaves to hope and fear Are never of our joys secure They lessen still as they draw near And none but dull delights endure Then Cloris while I duty pay The Noble Tribute of my Heart Be not you so severe to say You love me for a frailer part Song VVHile on those lovely looks I graze To see a Wretch pursuing In Raptures of a blest amaze This pleasing happy ruin T is not for pitty that I move His Fate is too aspiring Whose Heart broke with a Load of love Dyes wishing and admiring But if this Murder you 'd forgo Your Slave from Death removing Let me your Art of Charming know Or learn you mine of Loving But whether Life or Death betide In love 't is equal measure The Victor lives with empty pride The Vanquisht dye with pleasure Song BY all Loves soft yet mighty Pow'rs It is a thing unfit That Men shou'd Fuck in time of Flow'rs Or when the Smock's beshit Fair nasty Nymph be clean and kind
grin Trickt like a Ladys Monkey new made clean To me the name of Railer strait you give Call me a Man that knows not how to live But Wenches to their Keepers true shall turn Stale Maids of Honor proffer'd Husbands scorn Great States-man flatt'ry and Clinches hate And long in Ossice dye without Estate Against a Bribe Court Judges shall decide The City Knav'ry want the Clergy Pride E're that black Malice in my Rhymes you find That wrongs a worthy Man or hurts a Friend But then perhaps you 'll say why do you write What you think harmless Mirth the World thinks Spight Why shou'd your Fingers itch to have a lash At Simius the Buffoon or Cully Bash What is 't to you if Alidores fine Whore Fucks with some Fop whilst he 's shut out of Door Consider pray that dang'rous Weapon Wit Frightens a Million when a few you hit Whip but a Curr as you ride through a Town And strait his Fellow Currs the Quarrel own Each Knave or Fool that 's conscious of a Crime Tho he scapes now looks for 't another time Sir I confess all you have said is true But who has not some Folly to pursue Milo turn'd Quixot fancy'd Battails Fights When the fifth Bottle had encreas'd the Lights War-like Dirt Pyes our Heroe Paris forms Which desp'rate Bessus without Armour storms Cornus the kind Husband e're was born Still Courts the Spark that does his Brows adorn Invites him home to dine and fills his Veins With the hot Blood which his dear Doxy drains Grandio thinks himself a Beau-Garcon Goggles his Eyes writes Letters up and down And with his sawch Love plagues all the Town While pleas'd to have his Vanity thus fed He 's caught with G that old Hag a Bed But shou'd I all the crying Follies tell That rouse the sleeping Sayter from his Cell I to my Reader shou'd as tedious prove As that old Spark Albanus making love Or florid Roscius when with some smooth flam He gravely on the publick tries to sham Hold then my Muse 't is time to make an end Least taxing others thou thy self offend The World 's a Wood in which all loose their way Though by a diff'rent Path each goes Astray On the suppos'd Authour of a late Poem in defence of Satyr TO rack and torture thy unmeaning Brain In Satyrs praise to a low untun'd strain In thee was most impertinent and vain When in thy Person we more clearly see That Satyr's of Divine Authority For God made one on Man when he made thee To shew there were some Men as there are Apes Fram'd for meer sport who differ but in shapes In thee are all these contradictions joynd That make an Asse prodigious and refin'd A lump deform'd and shapeless wert thou born Begot in Loves despit and Natures scorn And art grown up the most ungraceful Wight Harsh to the Ear and hideous to the sight Yet Love 's thy bus'ness Beauty thy delight Curse on that silly hour that first inspir'd Thy madness to pretend to be admir'd To paint thy grizly Face to dance to dress And all those Awkward Follies that express Thy loathsome Love and filthy daintiness Who needs will be a Ugly Beau-Garcon Spit at and shun'd by ev'ry Girl in Town Where dreadfully LovesScare-Crow thou art plac'd To fright the tender Flock that long to taste While ev'ry coming Maid when you appear Starts back for shame and strait turns chaste for fear For none so poor or Prostitute have prov'd Where you made love t' endure to be belov'd ' Twere-labour lost or else I wou'd advise But thy half Wit will ne're let thee be wise Half-witty and half-mad and scarce half-brave Half-honest which is very much a Knave Made up of all these halfs thou can'st not pass For any thing intirely but an Ass. The Answer RAile on poor feeble Scribler speak of me In as bad Terms as the World speaks o thee Sit swelling in thy Hole like a vext Toad And full of Pox and Malice spit abroad Thou can'st hurt no Mans Fame with thy ill word Thy Pen is full as harmless as thy Sword Seneca's Troas Act. 2. Chorus AFter Death nothing is and nothing Death The utmost Limits of a gasp of Breath Let the ambitious Zealot lay aside His hopes of Heav'n where Faith is but his pride Let Slavish Souls lay by their Fear Nor be concern'd which way nor where After this life they shall be hurl'd Dead we become the Lumber of the world And to that Mass of Matter shall be swept Where things destroy'd with things Unborn are kept Devouring time swallows up whole Impartial Death confounds Body and Soul For Hell and the foul Fiend that rules Gods everlasting fiery Goales Devis'd by Rogues dreaded by Fools With his grim griezly Dog that keeps the Door Are senseless Stories idle Tales Dreams Whimseys and no more Vpon Nothing 1 NOthing thou Elder Brother ev'n to shade Thou hadst a Being e're the World was made And well fixt art alone of ending not afraid 2 E're time and place were time and place were not When Primitive Nothing something strait begot Then all Proceeded from the great united What 3 Something the gen'ral Attribute of all Sever'd from thee it 's sole Original Into thy boundless self must undistinguish'd fall 4 Yet something did thy mighty pow'r command And from thy fruitful emptinesses hand Snatcht Men Beasts Birds Fire Aire and Land 5 Matter the wicked'st Off-spring of thy Race By forme assisted flew from thy embrace And Rebel Light obscur'd thy reverend dusky Face 6 With form and Matter time and place did join Body thy Foe with thee did Leagues combine To spoil thy peaceful Realm and ruine all thy Line 7 But Turn-Coat-Time assists the Foe in vain And brib'd by thee assists the short liv'd Reign And to thy hungry VVomb drives back thy Slaves again 8 Tho Mysteries are barr'd from Laich-Eyes And the Divine alone with VVarrant pryes Into thy Bosome where thy truth in private lyes 9 Yet this of thee the wise may freely say Thou from the Virtuous nothing tak'st away And to be part of thee the VVicked wisely pray 10 Great Negative how vainly wou'd the Wise Enquire define distinguish teach devise Didst thou not stand to point their dull Philosophies 11 Is or is not the two great ends of Fate And true or false the Subject of debate That pefect or destroy the vast designs of Fate 12 When they have rack'd the Politicians Breast Within thy Bosome most securely rest And when reduc'd to thee are least unsafe best 13 But Nothing why does something still permit That Sacred Monarchs shou'd at Councel sit With Persons highly thought at best for Nothing fit 14 Whil'st weighty Something modestly abstains From Princes Coffers and from States-Mens Brains And Nothing there like stately Nothing reings 15 Nothing who dwellst with Fools in grave disguise For whom they Reverend shapes formes devise Lawn-sleeves Furrs Gowns when they like thee
POEMS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS By the Right Honourable THE E Of R Printed at ANTWERPEN An Epistolary Essay from M. G. to O. B. upon their Mutual Poems Dear Friend I Hear this Town does so abound With sawcy Censurcrs that faults are found Which what of late we in Poetique rage Bestowing threw away on the dull Age But howsoe're Envy their spleens may raise To Rob my Brows of the deserved Bays Their thanks at least I merit since through me They are partakers of your Poetry And this is all I 'le say in my defence T' obtain one Line of your well-worded sense I 'd be content t' have writ the Brittish Prince I 'm none of those who think themselves inspir'd Nor write with the vain hope to be admir'd But from a Rule I have upon long tryal T' avoid with care all sort of self denyal Which way so'ere desire and fancy lead Contemning Fame that Path I boldly tread And if exposing what I take for wit To my dear self a pleasure I beget No matter tho the cens'ring Criticks fret These whom my Muse displeases are at strife With equal spleen against my course of life The least delight of which I 'll not forgo For all the flatt'ring praise Man can bestow If I design'd to please the way were then To mend my Manners rather than my Pen The first 's unnatural therefore unfit And for the second I despair of it Since Grace is not so hard to get as Wit Perhaps ill Verses ought to be confin'd In meer good breeding like unsav'ry Wind Were reading forc'd I shou'd be apt to think Men might no more write scurvily than stink But 't is your choice whether you 'll read or no If likewise of your smelling it were so I 'd Fart just as I write for my own ease Nor shou'd you be concern'd unless you please I 'll own that you write better than I do But I have as much need to write as you What tho the Excrements of my dull Brain Flows in a harsh insipid strain Whilst your rich head eases it self of Wit Must none but Civit Cats have leave to shit In all I write shou'd Sense and Wit and Rhyme Fail me at once yet something so sublime Shall stamp my Poem that the World may see It cou'd have been produc'd by none but me And that 's my end for Man can wish no more Than so to write as none e're writ before Yet why am I no Poet of the times I have Allusions Similies and Rhymes And Wit or else 't is hard that I alone Of the whole Race of Mankind shou'd have none Unequally the partial hand of Heav'n Has all but this one only blessing giv'n The World appears like a great Family Whose Lord opprest with Pride and Poverty That to a few great bounty he may show Is fain to starve the num'rous Train below Just so seems Providence as poor and vain Keeping more Creatures than it can maintain Here 't is profuse and there it mainly saves And for one Prince it makes ten thousand Slaves In Wit alone't has been Magnificent Of which so just a share to each is sent That the most Avaricious are content For none e're thought the due divisions such His own too little or his Friends too much Yet most Men shew or find great want of Wit Writing themselves or judging what is writ But I who am of sprightly vigour full Look on Mankind as envious and dull Born to my self my self I like alone And must conclude my judgment good or none For cou'd my sense be naught how shou'd I know Whether another Man 's were good or no Thus I resolve of my own Poetry That 't is the best and there 's a Fame for me If then I 'm happy what does it advance Whither to merit due or Arrogance Oh! but the World will take offence hereby Why then the World shall suffer for 't not I. Did e're the sawcy World and I agree To let it have its beastly will on me Why shou'd my prostituted sense be drawn To ev'ry Rule their musty Customes spawn But Men will censure you 't is two to one When e're they censure they 'll be in the wrong There 's not a thing on Earth that I can name So foolish and so false as common Fame It calls the Courtier Knave the plain Man rude Haughty the grave and the delightful lew'd Impertinent the brisk Moross the sad Mean the familiar the reserv'd one mad Poor helpless Woman is not favour'd more She 's a sly Hypocrite or publick Whore Then who the Devil wou'd give this to be free From th' innocent reproach of infamy These things consider'd make me in despight Of idle Rumour keep at home and write SATYR VVEre I who to my cost already am One of those strange prodigious Creatures Man A Spirit free to choose for my own share What case of Flesh and Blood I pleas'd to wear I 'd be a Dog a Monkey or a Bear Or any thing but that vain Animal Who is so proud of being rational The senses are too gross and he 'll contrive A sixth to contradict the other Five And before certain instinct will preferr Reason which fifty times for one does err Reason an Ignis fatuus in the Mind Which leaving light of Nature sense behind Pathless and dan'grous wandring ways it takes Through errors Fenny-Boggs and Thorny Brakes Whilst the misguided follower climbs with pain Mountains of whimseys heap'd in his own Brain Stumbling from thought to thought falls headlong down Into doubts boundless Sea where like to drown Books bear him up a while and makes him try To swim with Bladders of Philosophy In hopes still t'oretake th'escaping light The Vapour dances in his dazling sight Till spent it leaves him to eternal Night Then Old Age and experience hand in hand Lead him to death and make him understand After a search so painful and so long That all his Life he has been in the wrong Hudled in dirt the reas'ning Engine lyes Who was so proud so witty and so wise Pride drew him in as Cheats their Bubbles catch And makes him venture to be made a Wretch His wisdom did his happiness destroy Aiming to know what World he shou'd enjoy And Wit was his vain frivolous pretence Of pleasing others at his own expence For Wits are treated just like common Whores First they 're enjoy'd and then kickt out of Doores The pleasure past a threatning boubt remains That frights th'enjoyer with succeeding pains Women and Men of Wit are dang'rous Tools And ever fatal to admiring Fools Pleasure allures and when the Fopps escape 'T is not that they 're belov'd but fortunate And therefore what thy fear at least they hate But now methinks some formal Band and Beard Takes me to task come on Sir I 'm prepard Then by your favour any thing that 's writ Against this gibeing jingling knack call'd Wit Likes me abundantly but you take care Vpon this point not
their Fate deplore Since I must shelter 'em no more And if before my joyes were such In having seen and herd so much My griefs must be as great and high When all abandon'd I must lye Doom'd to a silent Destiny No more the Am'rous strife to hear The Shepherds Vous the Virgins fear No more a joyful looker on Whilst Loves soft Battl's lost and won With grief I bou'd my murm'ring Head And all my Christal Dew I shed Which did in Cloris pity move Cloris whose Soul is made of love She cut me down and did translate My being to a happier State No Martyr for Religion dy'd With half that unconsid'ring pride My Top was on the Alter laid Where Love his softest Offrings paid And was as fragrant Incence burn'd My Body into Busks was turn'd Where I still guard the sacred Store And of Loves Temple keep the Door On the Death of Mr. Grnehill The Famous Painter VVHat doleful cryes are these that fright my sense Sad as the grones of dying innocence The killing Accents now more near approach And the infectious sound Spreads and enlarges all around And does all Hearts with grief and wonder touch The famous Grnehill's dead ev'n he That cou'd to us give immortality Is to th' Eternal silent Groves withdrawn Those sullen Groves of Everlasting Dawn Youthful as Flow'rs scarce blown whose opening Leaves A wond'rous and a fragrant Prospect gives Of what its Elder Beauties wou'd display When it shou'd slorish up to ripening May Witty as Poets warm'd with Love and VVine Yet still spar'd Heav'n and his Friend For Both to him were sacred and divine Nor could he this no more than that offend Fixt as a Martyr where he Friendship paid And gen'rous as a God! Distributing his Bounties all abroad And soft and gentle as a Love-sick Maid Great Master of the Noble Mystery That ever happy knowledge did inspire Sacred as that of Poetry And which the wond'ring VVorld does equally admire Great Natures works we do contemn When on his glorious Births we meditate The Face and Eyes more Darts reciv'd from him Then all the Charmes she can create The diffâ—rence is his Beauties do beget In the Enamer'd Soul a vertuous heat Whilst Natures grosser pieces move In the course Road of common love So bold yet soft his touches were So round each part so sweet and fair That as his Pencil mov'd Men thought it prest The lively imitated Breast Which yields like Clouds where little Angels rest The Limbs all easie as his temper was Strong at his Mind and Manly too Large as his Soul his fancy was and new And from himself he coppy'd ev'ry grace For he had all that cou'd adorn a Face All that cou'd either Sex subdue Each excellence he had that Youth has in its pride And all experienc'd Age can teach At once the vig'rous Fire of this And ev'ry Virtue which that can express In all the height that both cou'd reach And yet alas in this perfection dy'd Dropt like a Blossom with a Northern blast When all the scatter'd Leaves abroad are cast As quick as If his Fate had been in hast So have I seen an unfixt Star Out-shine the rest of all the num'rous Train As bright as that which guides the Marriner Dart swiftly from its darkn'd Sphear And ne're shall light the World again Oh why shou'd so much knowledge dye Or with his last kind Breath Why cou'd he not to some one Friend bequeath The mighty Legacy But 't was a knoledge giv'n to him alone That his Eterniz'd name might be Admir'd to all Posterity By all to whom his grateful name was known Come all ye softer Beauties come Bring Wreths of Flow'rs to deck his Tomb Mixt with the dismal Cypress and the Yew For he still gave your Charmes their due And from the injuries of Age and Time Scur'd the sweetness of your prime And best knew how t' adore that sweetness too Bring all your mornful Tributes here And let your Eyes a silent sorrow wear Till ev'ry Virgin for a while become Sad as his Fate and like his Pictures dumb To all curious Criticks and Admirers of Meeter HAve you seen the rageing Stormy Main Toss a Ship up then cast her down again Sometimes she seems to touch the very Skies And then again upon the Sand she lyes Or have you seen a Bull when he is jealous How he does tear the ground and Rores and Bellows Or have you seen the pretty Turtle Dove When she laments the absence of her love Or have you seen the Fairyes when they sing And dance with mirth together in a Ring Or have you seen our Gallants keep a pudder With Fair and Grace and Grace and Fair Anstrudder Or hove you seen the Daughter of Apollo Pow'r down their rhyming Liquors in a hollow Cane In spungy Brain congealing into Verse If you have seen all this then kiss mine A se. Satyr A. VVHat Timon does old Age begin t' approach That thus thou droop'st under a nights debauch Hast thou lost deep to needy Rogues on Tick Who ne're cou'd pay and must be paid next VVeek Tim. Neither alas but a dull dining Sot Seiz'd me i th' Mall who just my name had got He runs upon me cries dear Rogue I 'm thine With me some Wits of thy acquaintance dine I tell him I 'm engag'd but as a Whore With mdesty enslaves her Spark the more The longer I deny'd the more he prest At last I e'ne consent to be his Guest He takes me in his Coach and as we go Pulls out a Libil of a Sheet or two Insipid as The praise of pious Queens Or S unassisted former Scenes Which he admir'd and praisd at ev'ry Line At last it was so sharp it must be mine I vow'd I was no more a VVit then he Unpractic'd and unblest in Poetry A Song to Phillis I perhaps might make But never Rhym'd but for my Pintles sake I envy'd no Mans fortune nor his fame Nor ever thought of a revenge so tame He knew my Stile he swore and 't was in vain Thus to deny the Issue of my Brain Choak'd with his flatt'ry I no answer make But silent leave him to his dear mistake Of a well meaning Fool I 'm most afraid Who sillily repeats what was well said But this was not the worst when he came home He askt are Sidley Buchurst Savil come No but there were above Halfwit and Huffe Kickum and Dingboy Oh 't is well enough They 're all brave Fellows cryes mine Host let 's Dine I long to have my Belly full of VVine They 'll write and fight I dare assure you They 're Men Tam Marte quam Mercurio I saw my error but t was now too late No means nor hopes appears of a retreat Well we salute and each Man takes his Seat Boy says my Sot is my VVife ready yet A Wife good Gods a Fop and Bullys too For one poor Meale what must I undergo In comes my Lady strait