play And more then well becomes the day Alas for pitty and for us Most innocent and injur'd thus Had we kept close or play'd within Suspition now had been the sinne And shame had follow'd long ere this T' ave plagu'd what now unpunisht is But we as fearlesse of the Sunne As faultlesse will not wish undone What now is done since where no sin Unbolts the doore no shame comes in Then comely and most fragrant Maid Be you more warie then afraid Of these Reports because you see The fairest most suspected be The common formes have no one eye Or eare of burning jealousie To follow them but chiefly where Love makes the cheek and chin a sphere To dance and play in Trust me there Suspicion questions every haire Come you are faire and sho'd be seen While you are in your sprightfull green And what though you had been embrac't By me were you for that unchast No no no more then is yond' Moone Which shining in her perfect Noone In all that great and glorious light Continues cold as is the night Then beauteous Maid you may retire And as for me my chast desire Shall move t'wards you although I see Your face no more So live you free From Fames black lips as you from me Single life most secure SUspicion Discontent and Strife Come in for Dowrie with a Wife The Curse A Song GOe perjur'd man and if thou ere return To see the small remainders in mine Urne When thou shalt laugh at my Religious dust And ask Where 's now the colour forme and trust Of Womans beauty and with hand more rude Rifle the Flowers which the Virgins strew'd Know I have pray'd to Furie that some wind May blow my ashes up and strike thee blind The wounded Cupid Song CUpid as he lay among Roses by a Bee was stung Whereupon in anger flying To his Mother said thus crying Help O help your Boy 's a dying And why my pretty Lad said she Then blubbering replyed he A winged Snake has bitten me Which Country people call a Bee At which she smil'd then with her hairs And kisses drying up his tears Alas said she my Wag if this Such a pernicious torment is Come tel me then how great 's the smart Of those thou woundest with thy Dart To Dewes A Song I Burn I burn and beg of you To quench or coole me with your Dew I frie in fire and so consume Although the Pile be all perfume Alas the heat and death 's the same Whether by choice or common flame To be in Oyle of Roses drown'd Or water where 's the comfort found Both bring one death and I die here Unlesse you coole me with a Teare Alas I call but ah I see Ye coole and comfort all but me Some comfort in calamity TO conquer'd men some comfort 't is to fall By th' hand of him who is the Generall The Vision SItting alone as one forsook Close by a Silver-shedding Brook With hands held up to Love I wept And after sorrowes spent I slept Then in a Vision I did see A glorious forme appeare to me A Virgins face she had her dresse Was like a sprightly Spartanesse A silver bow with green silk strung Down from her comely shoulders hung And as she stood the wanton Aire Dandled the ringlets of her haire Her legs were such Diana shows When tuckt up she a hunting goes With Buskins shortned to descrie The happy dawning of her thigh Which when I saw I made accesse To kisse that tempting nakednesse But she forbad me with a wand Of Mirtle she had in her hand And chiding me said Hence Remove Herrick thou art too coorse to love Love me little love me long YOu say to me-wards your affection 's strong Pray love me little so you love me long Slowly goes farre The meane is best Desire Grown violent do's either die or tire Upon a Virgin kissing a Rose T Was but a single Rose Till you on it did breathe But since me thinks it shows Not so much Rose as Wreathe Upon a Wife that dyed mad with Jealousie IN this little Vault she lyes Here with all her jealousies Quiet yet but if ye make Any noise they both will wake And such spirits raise 't will then Trouble Death to lay agen Upon the Bishop of Lincolne's Imprisonment NEver was Day so over-sick with showres But that it had some intermitting houres Never was Night so tedious but it knew The Last Watch out and saw the Dawning too Never was Dungeon so obscurely deep Wherein or Light or Day did never peep Never did Moone so ebbe or seas so wane But they left Hope-seed to fill up againe So you my Lord though you have now your stay Your Night your Prison and your Ebbe you may Spring up afresh when all these mists are spent And Star-like once more guild our Firmament Let but That Mighty Cesar speak and then All bolts all barres all gates shall cleave as when That Earth-quake shook the house and gave the stout Apostles way unshackled to goe out This as I wish for so I hope to see Though you my Lord have been unkind to me To wound my heart and never to apply When you had power the meanest remedy Well though my griefe by you was gall'd the more Yet I bring Balme and Oile to heal your sore Disswasions from Idlenesse CYnthius pluck ye by the eare That ye may good doctrine heare Play not with the maiden-haire For each Ringlet there 's a share Cheek and eye and lip and chin These are traps to take fooles in Armes and hands and all parts else Are but Toiles or Manicles Set on purpose to enthrall Men but Slothfulls most of all Live employ'd and so live free From these fetters like to me Who have found and still can prove The lazie man the most doth love Upon Strut STrut once a Fore-man of a Shop we knew But turn'd a Ladies Usher now 't is true Tell me has Strut got ere a title more No he 's but Fore-man as he was before An Epithalamie to Sir Thomas Southwell and his Ladie I. NOw now 's the time so oft by truth Promis'd sho'd come to crown your youth Then Faire ones doe not wrong Your joyes by staying long Or let Love's fire goe out By lingring thus in doubt But learn that Time once lost Is ne'r redeem'd by cost Then away come Hymen guide To the bed the bashfull Bride II. Is it sweet maid your fault these holy Bridall-Rites goe on so slowly Deare is it this you dread The losse of Maiden-head Beleeve me you will most Esteeme it when 't is lost Then it no longer keep Lest Issue lye asleep Then away come Hymen guide To the bed the bashfull Bride III. These Precious-Pearly-Purling teares But spring from ceremonious feares And 't is but Native shame That hides the loving flame And may a while controule The soft and am'rous soule But yet Loves fire will wast Such bashfulnesse at last Then away
were Virgins sick of love Turn'd to Flowers Still in some Colours goe and colours come To his Mistresse objecting to him neither Toying or Talking YOu say I love not cause I doe not play Still with your curles and kisse the time away You blame me too because I cann't devise Some sport to please those Babies in your eyes By Loves Religion I must here confesse it The most I love when I the least expresse it Small griefs find tongues Full Casques are ever found To give if any yet but little sound Deep waters noyse-lesse are And this we know That chiding streams betray small depth below So when Love speechlesse is she doth expresse A depth in love and that depth bottomlesse Now since my love is tongue-lesse know me such Who speak but little cause I love so much Upon the losse of his Mistresses IHave lost and lately these Many dainty Mistresses Stately julia prime of all Sapho next a principall Smooth Anthea for a skin White and Heaven-like Chrystalline Sweet Electra and the choice Myrha for the Lute and Voice Next Corinna for her wit And the graceful use of it With Perilla All are gone Onely Herrick's left alone For to number sorrow by Their departures hence and die The Dream ME thought last night love in an anger came And brought a rod so whipt me with the same Mirtle the twigs were meerly to imply Love strikes but'tis with gentle crueltie Patient I was Love pitifull grew then And stroak'd the stripes and I was whole agen Thus like a Bee Love-gentle stil doth bring Hony to salve where he before did sting The Vine IDream'd this mortal part of mine Was Metamorphoz'd to a Vine Which crawling one and every way Enthrall'd my dainty Lucia Me thought her long small legs thighs I with my Tendrils did surprize Her Belly Buttocks and her Waste By my soft Nerv'lits were embrac'd About her head I writhing hung And with rich clusters hid among The leaves her temples I behung So that my Lucia seem'd to me Young Bacchus ravisht by his tree My curles about her neck did craule And armes and hands they did enthrall So that she could not freely stir All parts there made one prisoner But when I crept with leaves to hide Those parts which maids keep unespy'd Such fleeting pleasures there I took That with the fancie I awook And found Ah me this flesh of mine More like a Stock then like a Vine To Love I 'M free from thee and thou no more shalt heare My puling Pipe to beat against thine eare Farewell my shackles though of pearle they be Such precious thraldome ne'r shall fetter me He loves his bonds who when the first are broke Submits his neck unto a second yoke On himselfe YOung I was but now am old But I am not yet grown cold I can play and I can twine Bout a Virgin like a Vine In her lap too I can lye Melting and in fancie die And return to life if she Claps my cheek or kisseth me Thus and thus it now appears That our love out-lasts our yeeres Love's play at Push-pin LOve and my selfe beleeve me on a day At childish Push-pin for our sport did play I put he pusht and heedless of my skin Love prickt my finger with a golden pin Since which it felters so that I can prove 'T was but a trick to poyson me with love Little the wound was greater was the smart The finger bled but burnt was all my heart The Rosarie ONe ask'd me where the Roses grew I bade him not goe seek But forthwith bade my Julia shew A bud in either cheek Upon Cupid OLd wives have often told how they Saw Cupid bitten by a flea And thereupon in tears half drown'd He cry'd aloud Help help the wound He wept he sobb'd he call'd to some To bring him Lint and Balsamum To make a Tent and put it in Where the Steletto pierc'd the skin Which being done the fretfull paine Asswag'd and he was well again The Parcae or Three dainty Destinies The Armilet THree lovely Sifters working were As they were closely set Of soft and dainty Maiden-haire A curious Armelet I smiling ask'd them what they did Faire Destinies all three Who told me they had drawn a thred of Life and 't was for me They shew'd me then how fine 't was spun And I reply'd thereto I care not now how soone 't is done Or cut if cut by you Sorrowes succeed WHen one is past another care we have Thus Woe succeeds a Woe as wave a Wave Cherry-pit IVLIA and I did lately sit Playing for sport at Cherry-pit She threw I cast and having thrown I got the Pit and she the Stone To Robin Red-brest LAid out for dead let thy last kindnesse be With leaves and mosse-work for to cover me And while the Wood-nimphs my cold corps inter Sing thou my Dirge sweet-warbling Chorister For Epitaph in Foliage next write this Here here the Tomb of Robin Herrick is Discontents in Devon MOre discontents I never had Since I was born then here Where I have been and still am sad In this dull Devon-shire Yet justly too I must confesse I ne'r invented such Ennobled numbers for the Presse Then where I loath'd so much To his Paternall Countrey OEarth Earth Earth heare thou my voice and be Loving and gentle for to cover me Banish'd from thee I live ne'r to return Unlesse thou giv'st my small Remains an Urne Cherrie-ripe CHerrie-Ripe Ripe Ripe I cry Full and faire ones come and buy If so be you ask me where They doe grow I answer There Where my Julia's lips doe smile There 's the Land or Cherry-Ile Whose Plantations fully show All the yeere where Cherries grow To his Mistresses PUt on your silks and piece by piece Give them the scent of Amber-Greece And for your breaths too let them smell Ambrosia-like or Nectarell While other Gums their sweets perspire By your owne jewels set on sire To Anthea NOw is the time when all the lights wax dim And thou Anthea must withdraw from him Who was thy servant Dearest bury me Under that Holy-oke or Gospel-tree Where though thou see'st not thou may'st think upon Me when thou yeerly go'st Procession Or for mine honour lay me in that Tombe In which thy sacred Reliques shall have roome For my Embalming Sweetest there will be No Spices wanting when I 'm laid by thee The Vision to Electra IDream'd we both were in a bed Of Roses almost smothered The warmth and sweetnes had me there Made lovingly familiar But that I heard thy sweet breath say Faults done by night will blush by day I kist thee panting and I call Night to the Record that was all But ah if empty dreames so please Love give me more such nights as these Dreames HEre we are all by day By night w' are hurl'd By dreames each one into a sev'rall world Ambition IN Man Ambition is the common'st thing Each one by nature loves to be a King
flower that gives me nourishing But with a kisse or thanks doc pay For Honie that I beare away This said he laid his little scrip Of hony 'fore her Ladiship And told her as some tears did fall That that he took and that was all At which she smil'd and bade him goe And take his bag but thus much know When next he came a pilfring so He sho'd from her full lips derive Hony enough to fill his hive Upon Prig. PRig now drinks Water who before drank Beere What 's now the cause we know the case is cleere Look in Prigs's purse the chev'rell there tell syou Prig mony wants either to buy or brew Upon Batt BAtt he gets children not for love to reare 'em But out of hope his wife might die to beare ' em An Ode to Master Endymion Porter upon his Brothers death NOt all thy flushing Sunnes are set Herrick as yet Nor doth this far-drawn Hemisphere Frown and look sullen ev'ry where Daies may conclude in nights and Suns may rest As dead within the West Yet the next Morne re-guild the fragrant East Alas for me that I have lost E'en all almost Sunk is my sight set is my Sun And all the loome of life undone The staffe the Elme the prop the shelt'ring wall Whereon my Vine did crawle Now now blowne downe needs must the old stock fall Yet Porter while thou keep'st alive In death I thrive And like a Phenix re-aspire From out my Narde and Fun'rall fire And as I prune my feather'd youth so I Doe mar'l how I co'd die When I had Thee my chiefe Preserver by I 'm up I 'm up and blesse that hand Which makes me stand Now as I doe and but for thee I must confesse I co'd not be The debt is paid for he who doth resigne Thanks to the gen'rous Vine Invites fresh Grapes to fill his Presse with Wine To his dying Brother Master William Herrick LIfe of my life take not so soone thy flight But stay the time till we have bade Good night Thou hast both Wind and Tide with thee Thy way As soone dispatcht is by the Night as Day Let us not then so rudely henceforth goe Till we have wept kist sigh 't shook hands or so There 's paine in parting and a kind of hell When once true-lovers take their last Fare-well What shall we two our endlesse leaves take here Without a sad looke or a solemne teare He knowes not Love that hath not this truth proved Love is most loth to leave the thing beloved Pay we our Vowes and goe yet when we part Then even then I will bequeath my heart Into thy loving hands For I le keep none To warme my Breast when thou my Pulse art gone No here I le last and walk a harmless shade About this Urne wherein thy Dust is laid To guard it so as nothing here shall be Heavy to hurt those sacred seeds of thee The Olive Branch SAdly I walk't within the field To see what comfort it wo'd yeeld And as I went my private way An Olive-branch before me lay And seeing it I made a stay And took it up and view'd it then Kissing the Omen said Amen Be be it so and let this be A Divination unto me That in short time my woes shall cease And Love shall crown my End with Peace Upon Much-more Epig. MUch-more provides and hoords up like an Ant Yet Much-more still complains he is in want Let Much-more justly pay his tythes then try How both his Meale and Oile will multiply To Cherry-blossomes YE may simper blush and smile And perfume the aire a while But sweet things ye must be gone Fruit ye know is comming on Then Ah! Then where is your grace When as Cherries come in place How Lillies came white WHite though ye be yet Lillies know From the first ye were not so But I le tell ye What befell ye Cupid and his Mother lay In a Cloud while both did play He with his pretty finger prest The rubie niplet of her breast Out of the which the creame of light Like to a Dew Fell downe on you And made ye white To Pansies AH cruell Love must I endure Thy many scorns and find no cure Say are thy medicines made to be Helps to all others but to me I le leave thee and to Pansies come Comforts you 'l afford me some You can ease my heart and doe What Love co'd ne'r be brought unto On Gelli-flowers begotten WHat was 't that fell but now From that warme kisse of ours Look look by Love I vow They were two Gelli-flowers Let 's kisse and kisse agen For if so be our closes Make Gelli-flowers then I 'm sure they 'l fashion Roses The Lilly in a Christal YOu have beheld a smiling Rose When Virgins hands have drawn O'r it a Cobweb-Lawne And here you see this Lilly shows Tomb'd in a Christal stone More faire in this transparent case Then when it grew alone And had but single grace You see how Creame but naked is Nor daunces in the eye Without a Strawberrie Or some fine tincture like to this Which draws the sight thereto More by that wantoning with it Then when the paler hieu No mixture did admit You see how Amber through the streams More gently stroaks the sight With some conceal'd delight Then when he darts his radiant beams Into the boundlesse aire Where either too much light his worth Doth all at once impaire Or set it little forth Put Purple Grapes or Cherries in To Glasse and they will send More beauty to commend Them from that cleane and subtile skin Then if they naked stood And had no other pride at all But their own flesh and blood And tinctures naturall Thus Lillie Rose Grape Cherry Creame And Straw-berry do stir More love when they transfer A weak a soft a broken beame Then if they sho'd discover At full their proper excellence Without some Scean cast over To juggle with the sense Thus let this Christal'd Lillie be A Rule how far to teach Your nakednesse must reach And that no further then we see Those glaring colours laid By Arts wise hand but to this end They sho'd obey a shade Lest they too far extend So though y' are white as Swan or Snow And have the power to move A world of men to love Yet when your Lawns Silks shal flow And that white cloud divide Into a doubtful Twi-light then Then will your hidden Pride Raise greater fires in men To his Booke LIke to a Bride come forth my Book at last With all thy richest jewels over-cast Say if there be 'mongst many jems here one Deservelesse of the name of Paragon Blush not at all for that since we have set Some Pearls on Queens that have been counterfet Upon some women THou who wilt not love doe this Learne of me what Woman is Something made of thredand thrumme A meere Botch of all and some Pieces patches ropes of haire In-laid Garbage
we 'l know his Guard Kings though th' are hated will be fear'd Wine lead him on Thus to a Grove Sometimes devoted unto Love Tinseld with Twilight He and They Lead by the shine of Snails a way Beat with their num'rous feet which by Many a neat perplexity Many a turn and man ' a crosse Track they redeem a bank of mosse Spungie and swelling and farre more Soft then the finest Lemster Ore Mildly disparkling like those fiers Which break from the Injeweld tyres Of curious Brides or like those mites Of Candi'd dew in Moony nights Upon this Convex all the flowers Nature begets by th' Sun and showers Are to a wilde digestion brought As if Loves Sampler here was wrought Or Citherea's Ceston which All with temptation doth bewitch Sweet Aires move here and more divine Made by the breath of great ey'd-kine Who as they lowe empearl with milk The four-leav'd grasse or mosse-like silk The breath of Munkies met to mix With Musk-flies are th' Aromaticks Which cense this Arch and here and there And farther off and every where Throughout that Brave Mosaick yard Those Picks or Diamonds in the Card With peeps of Harts of Club and Spade Are here most neatly inter-laid Many a Counter many a Die Half rotten and without an eye Lies here abouts and for to pave The excellency of this Cave Squirrils and childrens teeth late shed Are neatly here enchequered With brownest Toadstones and the Gum That shines upon the blewer Plum The nails faln off by Whit-flawes Art's Wise hand enchasing here those warts Which we to others from our selves Sell and brought hither by the Elves The tempting Mole stoln from the neck Of the shie Virgin seems to deck The holy Entrance where within The roome is hung with the blew skin Of shifted Snake enfreez'd throughout With eyes of Peacocks Trains Trout-flies curious wings and these among Those silver-pence that cut the tongue Of the red infant neatly hung The glow-wormes eyes the shining scales Of silv'rie fish wheat-strawes the snailes Soft Candle-light the Kitling's eyne Corrupted wood serve here for shine No glaring light of bold-fac't Day Or other over radiant Ray Ransacks this roome but what weak beams Can make reflected from these jems And multiply Such is the light But ever doubtfull Day or night By this quaint Taper-light he winds His Errours up and now he finds His Moon-tann'd Mab as somewhat sick And Love knowes tender as a chick Upon six plump Dandillions high Rear'd lyes her Elvish-majestie Whose woollie-bubbles seem'd to drowne Hir Mab-ship in obedient Downe For either sheet was spread the Caule That doth the Infants face enthrall When it is born by some enstyl'd The luckie Omen of the child And next to these two blankets ore Cast of the finest Gossamore And then a Rug of carded wooll Which Spunge-like drinking in the dull Light of the Moon seem'd to comply Cloud-like the daintie Deitie Thus soft she lies and over-head A Spinners circle is bespread With Cob-web-curtains from the roof So neatly sunck as that no proof Of any tackling can declare What gives it hanging in the Aire The Fringe about this are those Threds Broke at the Losse of Maiden-heads And all behung with these pure Pearls Dropt from the eyes of ravisht Girles Or writhing Brides when panting they Give unto Love the straiter way For Musick now He has the cries Of fained-lost-Virginities The which the Elves make to excite A more unconquer'd appetite The Kings undrest and now upon The Gnats-watch-word the Elves are gone And now the bed and Mab possest Of this great-little-kingly-Guest We 'll nobly think what 's to be done He 'll do no doubt This flax is spun To his peculiar friend Master Thomas Shapcott Lawyer I 'Ve paid Thee what I promis'd that 's not All Besides I give Thee here a Verse that shall When hence thy Circum-mortall-part is gon Arch-like hold up Thy Name 's Inscription Brave men can't die whose Candid Actions are Writ in the Poets Endlesse-Kalendar Whos 's velome and whose volumne is the Skie And the pure Starres the praising Poetrie Farewell To Julia in the Temple BEsides us two i' th' Temple here 's not one To make up now a Congregation Let 's to the Altar of perfumes then go And say short Prayers and when we have done so Then we shall see how in a little space Saints will come in to fill each Pew and Place To Oenone 1. WHat Conscience say is it in thee When I a Heart had one To Take away that Heart from me And to retain thy own 2. For shame or pitty now encline To play a loving part Either to send me kindly thine Or give me back my heart 3. Covet not both but if thou dost Resolve to part with neither Why yet to shew that thou art just Take me and mine together His weaknesse in woes I Cannot suffer And in this my part Of Patience wants Grief breaks the stoutest Heart Fame makes us forward TO Print our Poems the propulsive cause Is Fame the breath of popular applause To Groves YEe silent shades whose each tree here Some Relique of a Saint doth weare Who for some sweet-hearts sake did prove The fire and martyrdome of love Here is the Legend of those Saints That did for love and their complaints Their wounded hearts and names we find Encarv'd upon the Leaves and Rind Give way give way to me who come Scorch't with the selfe-same martyrdome And have deserv'd as much Love knowes As to be canoniz'd 'mongst those Whose deeds and deaths here written are Within your Greenie-Kalendar By all those Virgins Fillets hung Upon your Boughs and Requiems sung For Saints and Soules departed hence Here honour'd still with Frankincense By all those teares that have been shed As a Drink-offering to the dead By all those True-love-knots that be With Motto's carv'd on every tree By sweet S. Phillis pitie me By deare S. Iphis and the rest Of all those other Saints now blest Me me forsaken here admit Among your Mirtles to be writ That my poore name may have the glory To live remembred in your story An Epitaph upon a Virgin HEre a solemne Fast we keepe While all beauty lyes asleep Husht be all things no noyse here But the toning of a teare Or a sigh of such as bring Cowslips for her covering To the right gratious Prince Lodwick Duke of Richmond and Lenox OF all those three-brave-brothers faln i'th'Warre Not without glory Noble Sir you are Despite of all concussions left the Stem To shoot forth Generations like to them Which may be done if Sir you can beget Men in their substance not in counterfeit Such Essences as those Three Brothers known Eternall by their own production Of whom from Fam's white Trumpet This I le Tell Worthy their everlasting Chronicle Never since first Bellona us'd a Shield Such Three brave Brothers fell in Mars his Field These were those Three Horatii Rome did boast Rom's where these Three Horatii we
Civick Crown To Blossoms FAire pledges of a fruitfull Tree Why do yee fall so fast Your date is not so past But you may stay yet here a while To blush and gently smile And go at last 2. What were yee borne to be An houre or half 's delight And so to bid goodnight 'T was pitie Nature brought yee forth Meerly to shew your worth And lose you quite 3. But you are lovely Leaves where we May read how soon things have Their end though ne'r so brave And after they have shown their pride Like you a while They glide Into the Grave Mans dying-place uncertain MAn knowes where first he ships himselfe but he Never can tell where shall his Landing be Nothing Free-cost NOthing comes Free-cost here Jove will not let His gifts go from him if not bought with sweat Few fortunate MAny we are and yet but few possesse Those Fields of everlasting happinesse To Perenna HOw long Perenna wilt thou see Me languish for the love of Thee Consent and play a friendly part To save when thou may'st kill a heart To the Ladyes TRust me Ladies I will do Nothing to distemper you If I any fret or vex Men they shall be not your sex The old Wives Prayer HOly-Rood come forth and shield Us i' th' Citie and the Field Safely guard us now and aye From the blast that burns by day And those sounds that us affright In the dead of dampish night Drive all hurtfull Feinds us fro By the Time the Cocks first crow Upon a cheap Laundresse Epig. FEacie some say doth wash her clothes i' th' Lie That sharply trickles from her either eye The Laundresses They envie her good-luck Who can with so small charges drive the buck What needs she fire and ashes to consume Who can scoure Linnens with her own salt reeume Upon his departure hence THus I Passe by And die As One Unknown And gon I 'm made A shade And laid I' th grave There have My Cave Where tell I dwell Farewell The Wassaile 1. GIve way give way ye Gates and win An easie blessing to your Bin And Basket by our entring in 2. May both with manchet stand repleat Your Larders too so hung with meat That though a thousand thousand eat 3. Yet ere twelve Moones shall whirl about Their silv'rie Spheres ther 's none may doubt But more 's sent in then was serv'd out 4. Next may your Dairies Prosper so As that your pans no Ebbe may know But if they do the more to flow 5. Like to a solemne sober Stream Bankt all with Lillies and the Cream Of sweetest Cow-slips filling Them 6. Then may your Plants be prest with Fruit Nor Bee or Hive you have be mute But sweetly sounding like a Lute 7. Next may your Duck and teeming Hen Both to the Cocks-tread say Amen And for their two egs render tea 8. Last may your Harrows Shares and Ploughes Your Stacks your Stocks your sweetest Mowes All prosper by your Virgin-vowes 9. Alas we blesse but see none here That brings us either Ale or Beere In a drie-house all things are neere 10. Let 's leave a longer time to wait Where Rust and Cobwebs bind the gate And all live here with needy Fate 11. Where Chimneys do for ever weepe For want of warmth and Stomachs keepe With noise the servants eyes from sleep 12. It is in vain to sing or stay Our free-feet here but we 'l away Yet to the Lares this we 'l say 13. The time will come when you 'l be sad And reckon this for fortune bad T' ave lost the good ye might have had Vpon a Lady faire but fruitlesse TWice has Pudica been a Bride and led By holy Himen to the Nuptiall Bed Two Youths sha's known thrice two and twice 3. yeares Yet not a Lillie from the Bed appeares Nor will for why Pudica this may know Trees never beare unlesse they first do blow How Springs came first THese Springs were Maidens once that lov'd But lost to that they most approv'd My Story tells by Love they were Turn'd to these Springs which wee see here The pretty whimpering that they make When of the Banks their leave they take Tels ye but this they are the same In nothing chang'd but in their name To Rosemary and Baies MY wooing's ended now my wedding's neere When Gloves are giving Guilded be you there Upon Skurffe SKurffe by his Nine-bones sweares and well he may All know a Fellon eate the Tenth away Upon a Scarre in a Virgins Face T Is Heresie in others In your face That Scarr's no Schisme but the sign of grace Upon his eye-sight failing him I Beginne to waine in sight Shortly I shall bid goodnight Then no gazing more about When the Tapers once are out To his worthy Friend M. Tho. Falconbirge STand with thy Graces forth Brave man and rise High with thine own Auspitious Destinies Nor leave the search and proofe till Thou canst find These or those ends to which Thou wast design'd Thy lucky Genius and thy guiding Starre Have made Thee prosperous in thy wayes thus farre Nor will they leave Thee till they both have shown Thee to the World a Prime and Publique One. Then when Thou see'it thine Age all turn'd to gold Remember what thy Herrick Thee foretold When at the holy Threshold of thine house He Boded good-luck to thy Selfe and Spouse Lastly be mindfull when thou art grown great That Towrs high rear'd dread most the lightnings threat When as the humble Cottages not feare The cleaving Bolt of Jove the Thunderer Upon Julia's haire fill'd with Dew DEw sate on Julia's haire And spangled too Like Leaves that laden are With trembling Dew Or glitter'd to my sight As when the Beames Have their reflected light Daunc't by the Streames Another on her HOw can I choose but love and follow her Whose shadow smels like milder Pomander How can I chuse but kisse her whence do's come The Storax Spiknard Myrrhe and Ladanum Losse from the least GReat men by small meanes oft are overthrown He 's Lord of thy life who contemnes his own Reward and punishments ALL things are open to these two events Or to Rewards or else to Punishments Shame no Statist SHame is a bad attendant to a State He rents his Crown That feares the Peoples hate To Sir Clisebie Crew SInce to th' Country first I came I have lost my former flame And methinks I not inherit As I did my ravisht spirit If I write a Verse or two 'T is with very much ado In regard I want that Wine Which sho'd conjure up a line Yet though now of Muse bereft I have still the manners left For to thanke you Noble Sir For those gifts you do conferre Upon him who only can Be in Prose a gratefull man Upon himselfe I Co'd never love indeed Never see mine own heart bleed Never crucifie my life Or for Widow Maid or Wife 2. I co'd never seeke to please One or many Mistresses Never like
And like our living where w' are known To very few or else to none The credit of the Conquerer HE who commends the vanquisht speaks the Power And glorifies the worthy Conquerer On himselfe SOme parts may perish dye thou canst not all The most of Thee shall scape the funerall Upon one-ey'd Broomsted Epig. BRoomsted a lamenesse got by cold and Beere And to the Bath went to be cured there His feet were helpt and left his Crutch behind But home return'd as he went forth halfe blind The Fairies IF ye will with Mab find grace Set each Platter in his place Rake the Fier up and get Water in ere Sun be set Wash your Pailes and clense your Dairies Sluts are loathsome to the Fairies Sweep your house Who doth not so Mab will pinch her by the toe To his honoured friend M. John Weare Councellour DId I or love or could I others draw To the indulgence of the rugged Law The first foundation of that zeale sho'd be By Reading all her Paragraphs in Thee Who dost so fitly with the Lawes unite As if You Two were one Hermophrodite Nor courts thou Her because she 's well attended With wealth but for those ends she was entended Which were and still her offices are known Law is to give to ev'ry one his owne To shore the Feeble up against the strong To shield the Stranger and the Poore from wrong This was the Founders grave and good intent To keepe the out-cast in his Tenement To free the Orphan from that Wolfe-like-man Who is his Butcher more then Guardian To drye the Widowes teares and stop her Swoones By pouring Balme and Oyle into her wounds This was the old way and 't is yet thy course To keep those pious Principles in force Modest I will be but one word I le say Like to a sound that 's vanishing away Sooner the in-side of thy hand shall grow Hisped and hairie ere thy Palm shall know A Postern-bribe tooke or a Forked-Fee To fetter Justice when She might be free Eggs I le not shave But yet brave man if I Was destin'd forth to golden Soveraignty A Prince I 'de be that I might Thee preferre To be my Counsell both and Chanceller The Watch. MAn is a Watch wound up at first but never Wound up again Once down He 's down for ever The Watch once downe all motions then do cease And Mans Pulse stopt All Passions sleep in Peace Lines have their Linings and Bookes their Buckram AS in our clothes so likewise he who lookes Shall find much farcing Buckram in our Books Art above Nature to Julia. WHen I behold a Forrest spread With silken trees upon thyhead And when I see that other Dresse Of flowers set in comlinesse When I behold another grace In the ascent of curious Lace Which like a Pinacle doth shew The top and the top-gallant too Then when I see thy Tresses bound Into an Ovall square or round And knit in knots far more then I Can tell by tongue or true-love tie Next when those Lawnie Filmes I see Play with a wild civility And all those airie silks to flow Alluring me and tempting so I must confesse mine eye and heart Dotes less on Nature then on Art Upon Sibilla WIth paste of Almonds Syb her hands doth scoure Then gives it to the children to devoure In Cream she bathes her thighs more soft then silk Then to the poore she freely gives the milke Upon his kinswoman Mistresse Bridget Herrick SWeet Bridget blusht therewithall Fresh blossoms from her cheekes did fall I thought at first 't was but a dream Till after I had handled them And smelt them then they smelt to me As Blossomes of the Almond Tree Upon Love I Plaid with Love as with the fire The wanton Satyre did Nor did I know or co'd descry What under there was hid 2. That Satyre he but burnt his lips But min's the greater smart For kissing Loves dissembling chips The fire scorctht my heart Upon a comely and curious Maide IF Men can say that beauty dyes Marbles will sweare that here it lyes If Reader then thou canst forbeare In publique loss to shed a Teare The Dew of griefe upon this stone Will tell thee Pitie thou hast none Upon the losse of his Finger ONe of the five straight branches of my hand Is lopt already and the rest but stand Expecting when to fall which soon will be First dyes the Leafe the Bough next next the Tree Upon Irene ANgry if Irene be But a Minutes life with me Such a fire I espie Walking in and out her eye As at once I freeze and frie. Upon Electra's Teares VPon her cheekes she wept and from those showers Sprang up a sweet Nativity of Flowres Upon Tooly THe Eggs of Pheasants wrie-nos'd Tooly sells But ne'r so much as licks the speckled shells Only if one prove addled that he eates With superstition as the Cream of meates The Cock and Hen he feeds but not a bone He ever pickt as yet of any one A Hymne to the Graces WHen I love as some have told Love I shall when I am old O ye Graces I Make me fit For the welcoming of it Clean my Roomes as Temples be T' entertain that Deity Give me words wherewith to wooe ' Suppling and successefull too Winning postures and withall Manners each way musicall Sweetnesse to allay my sowre And unsmooth behaviour For I know you have the skill Vines to prune though not to kill And of any wood ye see You can make a Mercury To Silvia NO more my Silvia do I mean to pray For those good dayes that ne'r will come away I want beliefe O gentle Silvia be The patient Saint and send up vowes for me Upon Blanch. Epig. I Have seen many Maidens to have haire Both for their comely need and some to spare But Blanch has not so much upon her head As to bind up her chaps when she is dead Upon Vmber Epig. VMber was painting of a Lyon fierce And working it by chance from Vmbers Erse Flew out a crack so mighty that the Fart As Vmber sweares did make his Lyon start The Poet hath lost his pipe I Cannot pipe as I was wont to do Broke is my Reed hoarse is my singing too My wearied Oat I le hang upon the Tree And give it to the Silvan Deitie True Friendship WIlt thou my true Friend be Then love not mine but me The Apparition of his Mistresse calling him to Elizium Desunt nonnulla COme then and like two Doves with silv'rie wings Let our soules flie to'th'shades where ever springs Sit smiling in the Meads where Balme and Oile Roses and Cassia crown the untill'd soyle Where no disease raignes or infection comes To blast the Aire but Amber-greece and Gums This that and ev'ry Thicket doth transpire More sweet then Storax from the hallowed fire Where ev'ry tree a wealthy issue beares Of fragrant Apples blushing Plums or Peares And all the shrubs with sparkling spangles shew
interre 'T is religious part to see Stones or turfes to cover me One word more I had to say But it skills not go your way He that wants a buriall roome For a Stone ha's Heaven his Tomhe Upon Nodes WHere ever Nodes do's in the Summer come He prayes his Harvest may be well brought home What store of Corn has carefull Nodes thinke you Whose Field his foot is and whose Barn his shooe TO THE KING Upon his taking of Leicester THis Day is Yours Great CHARLES and in this War Your Fate and Ours alike Victorious are In her white Stole now Victory do's rest Enspher'd with Palm on Your Triumphant Crest Fortune is now Your Captive other Kings Hold but her hands You hold both hands and wings To Julia in her Dawn or Day-breake BY the next kindling of the day My Julia thou shalt see Ere Ave-Mary thou canst say I le come and visit thee Yet ere thou counsel'st with thy Glasse Appeare thou to mine eyes As smooth and nak't as she that was The prime of Paradice If blush thou must then blush thou through A Lawn that thou mayst looke As purest Pearles or Pebles do When peeping through a Brooke As Lillies shrin'd in Christall so Do thou to me appeare Or Damask Roses when they grow To sweet acquaintance there Counsell 'T Was Cesars saying Kings no lesse Conquerors are By their wise Counsell then they be by Warre Bad Princes pill their People LIke those infernall Deities which eate The best of all the sacrificed meate And leave their servants but the smoak sweat So many Kings and Primates too there are Who claim the Fat and Fleshie for their share And leave their Subjects but the starved ware Most Words lesse Workes IN desp'rate cases all or most are known Commanders few for execution To Dianeme I Co'd but see thee yesterday Stung by a fretfull Bee And I the Javelin suckt away And heal'd the wound in thee A thousand thorns and Bryars Stings I have in my poore Brest Yet ne'r can see that salve which brings My Passions any rest As Love shall helpe me I admire How thou canst sit and smile To see me bleed and not desire To stench the blood the while If thou compos'd of gentle mould Art so unkind to me What dismall Stories will be told Of those that cruell be Upon Tap. TAp better known then trusted as we heare Sold his old Mothers Spectacles for Beere And not unlikely rather too then fail He 'l sell her Eyes and Nose for Beere and Ale His Losse ALL has been plundered from me but my wit Fortune her selfe can lay no claim to it Draw and Drinke MIlk stil your Fountains and your Springs for why The more th' are drawn the lesse they wil grow dry Upon Punchin Epig. GIve me a reason why men call Punchin a dry plant-animall Because as Plants by water grow Punchin by Beere and Ale spreads so To Oenone THou sayest Loves Dart Hath prickt thy heart And thou do'st languish too If one poore prick Can make thee sick Say what wo'd many do Upon Blinks Epig. TOm Blinks his Nose is full of wheales and these Tom calls not pimples but Pimpleides Sometimes in mirth he sayes each whelk's a sparke When drunke with Beere to light him home i' th' dark Upon Adam Peapes Epig. PEapes he do's strut and pick his Teeth as if His jawes had tir'd on some large Chine of Beefe But nothing so The Dinner Adam had Was cheese full ripe with Teares with Bread as sad To Electra SHall I go to Love and tell Thou art all turn'd isicle Shall I say her Altars be Disadorn'd and scorn'd by thee O beware in time submit Love has yet no wrathfull fit If her patience turns to ire Love is then consuming fire To Mistresse Amie Potter A I me I love give him your hand to kisse Who both your wooer and your Poet is Nature has pre-compos'd us both to Love Your part 's to grant my Scean must be to move Deare can you like and liking love your Poet If you say I Blush-guiltinesse will shew it Mine eyes must wooe you though I sigh the while True Love is tonguelesse as a Crocodile And you may find in Love these differing Parts Wooers have Tongues of Ice but burning hearts Upon a Maide HEre she lyes in Bed of Spice Faire as Eve in Paradice For her beauty it was such Poets co'd not praise too much Virgins Come and in a Ring Her supreamest Requiem sing Then depart but see ye tread Lightly lightly ore the dead Upon Love LOve is a Circle and an Endlesse Sphere From good to good revolving here there Beauty BEauti 's no other but a lovely Grace Of lively colours flowing from the face Upon Love SOme salve to every sore we may apply Only for my wound there 's no remedy Yet if my Julia kisse me there will be A soveraign balme found out to cure me Upon Hanch a Schoolmaster Epig. HAnch since he lately did interre his wife He weepes and sighs as weary of his life Say is 't for reall griefe he mourns not so Teares have their springs from joy as well as woe Upon Peason Epig. LOng Locks of late our Zelot Peason weares Not for to hide his high and mighty eares No but because he wo'd not have it seen been That Stubble stands where once large eares have To his Booke MAke haste away and let one be A friendly Patron unto thee Lest rapt from hence I see thee lye Torn for the use of Pasterie Or see thy injur'd Leaves serve well To make loose Gownes for Mackarell Or see the Grocers in a trice Make hoods of thee to serve out Spice Readinesse THe readinesse of doing doth expresse No other but the doers willingnesse Writing WHen words we want Love teacheth to endite And what we blush to speake she bids us write Society TWo things do make society to stand The first Commerce is the next Command Upon a Maid GOne she is a long long way But she has decreed a day Back to come and make no stay So we keepe till her returne Here her ashes or her Urne Satisfaction for sufferings FOr all our workes a recompence is sure 'T is sweet to thinke on what was hard t' endure The delaying Bride WHy so slowly do you move To the centre of your love On your niceness though we wait Yet the houres say 't is late Coynesse takes us to a measure But o'racted deads the pleasure Go to Bed and care not when Cheerfull day shall spring agen One Brave Captain did command By his word the Sun to stand One short charme if you but say Will enforce the Moon to stay Till you warn her hence away T' ave your blushes seen by day To M. Henry Lawes the excellent Composer of his Lyricks TOuch but thy Lire my Harrie and I heare From thee some raptures of the rare Gotire Then if thy voice commingle with the String I heare in
wo'd soon rost dry Were they not basted by her either eye Upon Hog HOg has a place i' th' Kitchen and his share The flimsie Livers and blew Gizzards are The School or Perl of Putney the Mistress of all singular manners Mistresse Portman VVHether I was my selfe or else did see Out of my self that Glorious Hierarchie Or whether those in orders rare or these Made up One State of Sixtie Venuses Or whether Fairies Syrens Nymphes they were Or Muses on their mountaine sitting there Or some enchanted Place I do not know Or Sharon where eternall Roses grow This I am sure I Ravisht stood as one Confus'd in utter Admiration Me thought I saw them stir and gently move And look as all were capable of Love And in their motion smelt much like to flowers Enspir'd by th' Sun-beams after dews showers There did I see the Reverend Rectresse stand Who with her eyes-gleam or a glance of hand Those spirits rais'd and with like precepts then As with a Magick laid them all agen A happy Realme When no compulsinve Law Or fear of it but Love keeps all in awe Live you great Mistresse of your Arts and be A a nursing Mother so to Majesty As those your Ladies may in time be seene Fot Grace and Carriage every one a Queene One Birth their Parents gave them but their new And better Being they receive from You. Mans former Birth is grace-lesse but the state Of life comes in when he 's Regenerate To Perenna THou say'st I 'm dull if edge-lesse so I be I le whet my lips and sharpen Love on thee On himselfe LEt me not live if I not love Since I as yet did never prove Where Pleasures met at last doe find All Pleasures meet in Woman-kind On Love THat love 'twixt men do's ever longest last Where War and Peace the Dice by turns doe cast Another on Love LOve 's of it self too sweet the best of all Is when loves hony has a dash of gall Upon Gut SCience puffs up sayes Gut when either Pease Make him thus swell or windy Cabbages Upon Chub. WHen Chub brings in his harvest still he cries Aha my boyes here 's wheat for Christmas Pies Soone after he for beere so scores his wheat That at the tide he has not bread to eate Pleasures Pernicious WHere Pleasures rule a Kingdome never there Is sober virtue seen to move her sphere On himself A Wearied Pilgrim I have wandred here Twice five and twenty bate me but one yeer Long I have lasted in this world t is true But yet those yeers that I have liv'd but few Who by his gray Haires doth his lusters tell Lives not those yeers but he that lives them well One man has reatch't his sixty yeers but he Of all those three-score has not liv'd halfe three He lives who lives to virtue men who cast Their ends for Pleasure do not live but last To M. Laurence Swetnaham REad thou my Lines my Swetnaham if there be A fault t is hid if it be voic't by thee Thy mouth will make the sourest numbers please How will it drop pure hony speaking these His Covenant or Protestation to Julia. WHy do'st thou wound break my heart As if we sho'd for ever part Hast thou not heard an Oath from me After a day or two or three I wo'd come back and live with thee Take if thou do'st distrust that Vowe This second Protestation now Upon thy cheeke that spangel'd Teare Which sits as Dew of Roses there That Teare shall scarce be dri'd before I le kisse the Threshold of thy dore Then weepe not sweet but thus much know I 'm halfe return'd before I go On himselfe I Will no longer kiss I can no longer stay The way of all Flesh is That I must go this day Since longer I can't live My frolick Youths adieu My Lamp to you I le give And all my troubles too To the most accomplisht Gentleman Master Michael Oulsworth NOr thinke that Thou in this my Booke art worst Because not plac't here with the midst or first Since Fame that sides with these or goes before Those that must live with Thee for evermore That Fame and Fames rear'd Pillar thou shalt see In the next sheet Brave Man to follow Thee Fix on That Columne then and never fall Held up by Fames eternall Pedestall To his Girles who would have him sportfull ALas I can't for tell me how Can I be gamesome aged now Besides ye see me daily grow Here Winter-like to Frost and Snow And I ere long my Girles shall see Ye quake for cold to looke on me Truth and falsehood TRuth by her own simplicity is known Falsehood by Varnish and Vermillion His last request to Julia. I Have been wanton and too bold I feare To chafe o're much the Virgins cheek or eare Beg for my Pardon Julia He doth winne Grace with the Gods who 's sorry for his sinne That done my Julia dearest Julia come And go with me to chuse my Buriall roome My Fates are ended when thy Herrick dyes Claspe thou his Book then close thou up his Eyes On himselfe ONe Eare tingles some there be That are snarling now at me Be they those that Homer bit I will give them thanks for it Vpon Kings KIngs must be dauntlesse Subjects will contemne Those who want Hearts and weare a Diadem To his Girles WAnton Wenches doe not bring For my haires black colouring For my Locks Girles let 'em be Gray or white all 's one to me Upon Spur. SPur jingles now and sweares by no meane oathes He 's double honour'd since h 'as got gay cloathes Most like his Suite and all commend the Trim And thus they praise the Sumpter but not him As to the Goddesse people did conferre Worship and not to'th' Asse that carried her To his Brother Nicolas Herrick VVHat others have with cheapnesse seene and ease In Varnisht maps by 'th' helpe of Compasses Or reade in Volumes and those Bookes with all Their large Narrations Incanonicall Thou hast beheld those seas and Countries farre And tel'st to us what once they were and are So that with bold truth thou canst now relate This Kingdomes fortune and that Empires fate Canst talke to us of Sharon where a spring Of Roses have an endlesse flourishing Of Sion Sinai Nebo and with them Make knowne to us the now Jerusalem The Mount of Olives Calverie and where Is and hast seene thy Saviours Sepulcher So that the man that will but lay his eares As Inapostate to the thing he heares Shall be his hearing quickly come to see The truth of Travails lesse in bookes then Thee The Voice and Violl RAre is the voice it selfe but when we sing To 'th Lute or Violl then 't is ravishing Warre IF Kings and kingdomes once distracted be The sword of war must trie the Soveraignty A King and no King THat Prince who may doe nothing but what 's just Rules but by leave ana takes his Crowne on trust