Part 5

Why would you blush _Castara_, when the name Of love you heare? Who never felt his flame, Ith' shade of melancholly night doth stray, A blind Cymmerian banisht from the day. Let's chastly love _Castara_, and not soyle This Virgin lampe, by powring in the oyle Of impure thoughts. O let us sympathize, And onely talke ith' language of our eyes, Like two starres in conjunction. But beware Lest th' Angels who of love compacted are, Viewing how chastly burnes thy zealous fire, Should snatch thee hence, to joyne thee to their quire. Yet take thy flight: on earth for surely we So joyn'd, in heaven cannot divided be.

_The Description of_ CASTARA.

Like the Violet which alone Prospers in some happy shade; My _Castara_ lives unknowne, To no looser eye betray'd. For shee's to her selfe untrue, Who delights ith' publicke view.

Such is her beauty, as no arts Have enricht with borrowed grace. Her high birth no pride imparts, For she blushes in her place. Folly boasts a glorious blood, She is noblest being good.

Cautious she knew never yet What a wanton courtship meant: Not speaks loud to boast her wit, In her silence eloquent. Of her selfe survey she takes, But 'tweene men no difference makes.

She obeyes with speedy will Her grave Parents wise commands. And so innocent, that ill, She nor acts, nor understands. Womens feete runne still astray. If once to ill they know the way.

She sailes by that rocke, the Court, Where oft honour splits her mast: And retir'dnesse thinks the port, Where her fame may anchor cast. Vertue safely cannot sit, Where vice is enthron'd for wit.

She holds that dayes pleasure best. Where sinne waits not on delight. Without maske, or ball, or feast, Sweetly spends a winters night. O're that darknesse, whence is thrust, Prayer and sleepe oft governs lust.

She her throne makes reason climbe, While wild passions captive lie. And each article of time, Her pure thoughts to heaven flie: All her vowes religious be, And her love she vowes to me.

_FINIS._

CASTARA

The Second part.

_Vatumque lascivos triumphos, Calcat Amor, pede conjugali._

_LONDON_ Printed for WILLIAM COOKE and are to be sold at his Shop, neare _Furnivals-Inne_ Gate in _Holborne_. 1639.

A Wife

_Is the sweetest part in the harmony of our being. To the love of which, as the charmes of Nature inchant us, so the law of grace by speciall priviledge invites us. Without her, Man if piety not restraine him; is the creator of sinne; or, if an innated cold render him not onely the businesse of the present age; the murderer of posterity. She is so religious that every day crownes her a martyr, and her zeale neither rebellious nor uncivill. Shee is so true a friend, her Husband may to her communicate even his ambitions, and if successe Crowne not expectation, remaine neverthelesse uncontemned. Shee is colleague with him in the Empire of prosperity; and a safe retyring place when adversity exiles him from the World. She is so chaste, she never understood the language lust speakes in, nor with a smile applaudes it, although there appeare wit in the Metaphore. Shee is faire only to winne on his affections, nor would she be Mistris of the most eloquent beauty; if there were danger, that might perswade the passionate auditory, to the least irregular thought. Shee is noble by a long descent, but her memory is so evill a herald, shee never boasts the story of her Ancestors. Shee is so moderately rich, that the defect of portion doth neither bring penury to his estate, nor the superfluity licence her to Riot. Shee is liberall, and yet owes not ruine to vanity, but knows Charity, to be the soule of goodnesse, and Vertue without reward often prone to bee her own destroyer. Shee is much at home, and when she visites 'tis for mutuall commerce, not for intelligence. Shee can goe to Court, and returne no passionate doater on bravery; and when shee hath seene the gay things muster up themselves there, she considers them as Cobwebs the Spider vanity hath spunne. Shee is so generall in her acquaintance, that shee is familiar with all whom fame speakes vertuous; but thinkes there can bee no friendship but with one; and therefore hath neither shee friend nor private servant. Shee so squares her passion to her Husbands fortunes, that in the Countrey shee lives without a froward Melancholly, in the town without a fantastique pride. She is so temperate, she never read the modern pollicie of glorious surfeits; since she finds Nature is no Epicure if art provoke her not by curiositie. Shee is inquisitive onely of new wayes to please him, and her wit sayles by no other compasse then that of his direction. Shee lookes upon him as Conjurers upon the Circle, beyond which there is nothing but Death and Hell; and in him shee beleeves Paradice circumscrib'd. His vertues are her wonder and imitation; and his errors, her credulitie thinkes no more frailtie, then makes him descend to the title of Man. In a word, shee so lives that she may dye; and leave no cloude upon her Memory, but have her character nobly mentioned: while the bad Wife is flattered into infamy, and buyes pleasure at too[17] deare a rate, if shee onely payes for it Repentance._

[17] _so._ 1635.

_Fifty Poems, chiefly on Wedded Happiness._

_To_ CASTARA, _Now possest of her in marriage_.

This day is ours. The marriage Angell now Sees th' Altar in the odour of our vow, Yeeld a more precious breath, then that which moves The whispring leaves in the _Panchayan_ groves. View how his temples shine, on which he weares A wreath of pearle, made of those precious teares Thou wept a Virgin, when crosse winds did blow, Our hopes disturbing in their quiet flow. But now _Castara_ smile, No envious night Dares enterpose it selfe, t'ecclipse the light Of our cleare joyes. For even the lawes divine Permit our mutuall love[18] so to entwine, That Kings, to ballance true content, shall say: Would they were great as we, we blest as they.

[18] loves. 1634.

_To_ CASTARA, _Upon the mutuall love of their Majesties_.

Did you not see, _Castara_, when the King Met his lov'd Queene; what sweetnesse she did bring T' incounter his brave heat; how great a flame From their brests meeting, on the sudden came? The Stoike, who all easie passion flies, Could he but heare the language of their eyes, As heresies would from his faith remove The tenets of his sect, and practise love. The barb'rous nations which supply the earth With a promiscuous and ignoble birth, Would by his precedent correct their life, Each wisely chuse, and chastely love a wife. [19]Princes example is a law. Then we If loyall subjects, must true lovers be.

[19] Princes examples are a law. Then we. 1634.

_To_ ZEPHIRUS.

Whose whispers soft as those which lovers breath _Castara_ and my selfe I here bequeath To the calme wind. For heaven such joyes afford To her and me, that there can be no third. And you kinde starres, be thriftier of your light: Her eyes supply your office with more bright And constant lustre. Angels guardians, like The nimbler ship boyes shall be joy'd to strike Or hoist up saile; Nor shall our vessell move By Card or Compasse, but a heavenly love. The courtesie of this more prosperous gale Shall swell our Canvas, and wee'le swiftly saile To some blest Port, where ship hath never lane At anchor, whose chaste soule no foot prophane Hath ever trod; Where nature doth dispence Her infant wealth, a beautious innocence. Pompe (even a burthen to it selfe) nor Pride, (The Magistrate of sinnes) did e're abide On that so sacred earth. Ambition ne're, Built for the sport of ruine, fabrickes there. Thence age and death are exil'd, all offence And feare expell'd, all noyse and faction thence. A silence there so melancholly sweet, That none but whispring Turtles ever meet. Thus Paradise did our first Parents wooe, To harmelesse sweets, at first possest by two. And o're this second, wee'le usurpe the throne; _Castara_, wee'le obey and rule alone. For the rich vertue of this soyle I feare, Would be depraved, should but a third be there.

_To_ CASTARA _in a Trance_.

Forsake me not so soone. _Castara_ stay, And as I breake the prison of my clay, Ile fill the Canvas with m'expiring breath, And with thee saile o're the vast maine of death. Some Cherubin thus as we passe shall play. Goe happy twins of love; The courteous Sea Shall smooth her wrinkled brow: the winds shal sleep, Or onely whisper musicke to the deepe. Every ungentle rocke shall melt away, The Syrens sing to please, not to betray. Th' indulgent skie shall smile: each starry quire Contend, which shall afford the brighter fire. While Love the Pilot, steeres his course so even, Ne're to cast anchor till we reach at Heaven.

_To_ DEATH, CASTARA _being sicke_.

Hence prophane grim man, nor dare To approach so neere my faire. Marble vaults, and gloomy caves, Church-yards, Charnell houses, graves, Where the living loath to be, Heaven hath design'd to thee. But it needs 'mongst us thou'lt rage, Let thy fury feed on age. Wrinckled browes, and withered thighs, May supply thy sacrifice. Yet perhaps as thou flew'st by, A flamed dart shot from her eye, Sing'd thy wings with wanton fire, Whence th' art forc't to hover nigh her. If Love so mistooke his aime, Gently welcome in the flame: They who loath'd thee, when they see Where thou harbor'st, will love thee. Onely I, such is my fate, Must thee as a rivall hate, Court her gently, learne to prove, Nimble in the thefts of love. Gaze on th' errors of her haire: Touch her lip; but oh beware, Lest too ravenous of thy blisse, Thou shouldst murder with a kisse.

_To_ CASTARA, _Inviting her to sleepe_.

Sleepe my _Castara_, silence doth invite Thy eyes to close up day; though envious night Grieves Fate should her the sight of them debarre, For she is exil'd, while they open are. Rest in thy peace secure. With drowsie charmes, Kinde sleepe bewitcheth thee into her armes; And finding where Loves chiefest treasure lies, Is like a theefe stole under thy bright eyes. Thy innocence rich as the gaudy quilt Wrought by the Persian hand, thy dreames from guilt Exempted, heaven with sweete repose doth crowne Each vertue, softer then the Swans fam'd downe. As exorcists wild spirits mildly lay, May sleepe thy fever calmely chase away.

_Upon_ CASTARA'S _recoverie_.

She is restor'd to life. Unthrifty Death, Thy mercie in permitting vitall breath Backe to _Castara_, hath enlarg'd us all, Whome griefe had martyr'd in her funerall. While others in the ocean of their teares, Had sinking, wounded the beholders eares, With exclamations: I without a grone, Had suddenly congeal'd into a stone: There stood a statue, till the generall doome; Had ruin'd time and memory with her tombe. While in my heart, which marble, yet still bled, Each Lover might this Epitaph have read. "Her earth lyes here below; her soul's above, This wonder speakes her vertue, and my love."

_To a Friend, Inviting him to a meeting upon promise._

May you drinke beare, or that adult'rate wine Which makes the zeale of _Amsterdam_ divine; If you make breach of promise. I have now So rich a Sacke, that even your selfe will bow T' adore my _Genius_. Of this wine should _Prynne_ Drinke but a plenteous glasse, he would beginne A health to _Shakespeares_ ghost, But you may bring Some excuse forth, and answer me, the King To-day will give you audience, or that on Affaires of state, you and some serious Don Are to resolve; or else perhaps you'le sin So farre, as to leave word y'ar not within. The least of these, will make me only thinke Him subtle, who can in his closet drinke Drunke even alone, and thus made wise create As dangerous plots as the Low Countrey state, Projecting for such baits, as shall draw ore To _Holland_, all the herrings from our shore. But y'are too full of candour: and I know Will sooner stones at _Sals'burg_ casements throw, Or buy up for the silenc'd Levits, all The rich impropriations, then let pall So pure Canary, and breake such an oath: Since charity is sinn'd against in both. Come therefore blest even in the Lollards zeale, Who canst with conscience safe, 'fore hen and veale Say grace in Latine; while I saintly sing A Penitential verse in oyle and Ling. Come then, and bring with you prepar'd for fight, Unmixt Canary, Heaven send both prove right! This I am sure: My sacke will disingage All humane thoughts, inspire so high a rage, That _Hypocrene_ shall henceforth Poets lacke, Since more Enthusiasmes are in my sacke. Heightned with which, my raptures shall commend, How good _Castara_ is, how deare my friend.

_To_ CASTARA, _Where true happinesse abides_.

_Castara_ whisper in some dead mans eare, This subtill _quære_; and hee'le point out where, By answers negative, true joyes abide. Hee'le say they flow not on th' uncertaine tide Of greatnesse, they can no firme basis have, Upon the trepidation of a wave. Nor lurke they in the caverns of the earth, Whence all the wealthy minerals draw their birth, To covetous man so fatall. Nor ith' grace Love they to wanton of a brighter face, For th'are above Times battery; and the light Of beauty, ages cloud will soone be night. If among these Content, he thus doth prove, Hath no abode; where dwels it but in Love?

_To_ CASTARA.

Forsake with me the earth, my faire, And travell nimbly through the aire, Till we have reacht th' admiring skies; Then lend sight to those heavenly eyes Which blind themselves, make creatures see. And taking view of all, when we Shall finde a pure and glorious spheare; Wee'le fix like starres for ever there. Nor will we still each other view, Wee'le gaze on lesser starres then you; See how by their weake influence they, The strongest of mens actions sway. In an inferiour orbe below, Wee'le see _Calisto_ loosely throw Her haire abroad: as she did weare, The self-same beauty in a Beare, As when she a cold Virgin stood, And yet inflam'd _Joves_ lustfull blood. Then looke on _Lede_, whose faire beames By their reflection guild those streames, Where first unhappy she began To play the wanton with a Swan. If each of these loose beauties are Transform'd to a more beauteous starre By the adult'rous lust of _Jove_; Why should not we, by purer love?

_To_ CASTARA, _Upon the death of a Lady_.

_Castara_ weepe not, though her tombe appeare Sometime thy griefe to answer with a teare: The marble will but wanton with thy woe. Death is the Sea, and we like Rivers flow To lose our selves in the insatiate Maine, Whence Rivers may, she[20] ne're returne againe. Nor grieve this Christall streame so soone did fall Into the Ocean; since she perfum'd all The banks she past, so that each neighbour field Did sweete flowers cherish by her watring, yeeld. Which now adorne her Hearse. The violet there On her pale cheeke doth the sad livery weare, Which heavens compassion gave her; And since she Cause cloath'd in purple can no mourner be, As incense to the tombe she gives her breath, And fading, on her Lady waits in death. Such office the Ægyptian handmaids did Great _Cleopatra_, when she dying chid The Asps slow venome, trembling she should be By Fate rob'd even of that blacke victory. The flowers instruct our sorrowes. Come then all Ye beauties, to true beauties funerall, And with her, to increase deaths pompe, decay. Since the supporting fabricke of your clay Is faine, how can ye stand? How can the night Shew stars, when Fate puts out the dayes great light? But 'mong the faire, if there live any yet, She's but the fairer _Digbies_ counterfeit. Come you who speake your titles. Reade in this Pale booke, how vaine a boast your greatnesse is. What's honour but a hatchment? what is here Of _Percy_ left, and _Stanly_, names most deare To vertue? but a crescent turn'd to th' wane, An Eagle groaning o're an infant slaine? Or what availes her, that she once was led, A glorious bride to valiant _Digbies_ bed, Since death hath them divorc'd? If then alive There are, who these sad obsequies survive And vaunt a proud descent, they onely be Loud heralds to set forth her pedigree. Come all who glory in your wealth, and view The embleme of your frailty. How untrue (Though flattering like friends) your treasures are, Her Fate hath taught[21]: who, when what ever rare The either Indies boast, lay richly spread For her to weare, lay on her pillow dead. Come likewise my _Castara_ and behold, What blessings ancient prophesie foretold, Bestow'd on her in death. She past away So sweetely from the world, as if her clay Laid onely downe to slumber. Then forbeare To let on her blest ashes fall a teare. But if th'art too much woman, softly weepe. Lest griefe disturbe the silence of her sleepe.

[20] we. 1634.

[21] Her Fate hath taught you: who, when what ever rare. 1634, 1635.

_To_ CASTARA, _Being to take a journey_.

What's death more than departure; the dead go Like travelling exiles, compell'd to know Those regions they heard mention of: Tis th'art Of sorrowes, sayes, who dye doe but depart. Then weepe thy funerall teares: which heaven t'adorne The beauteous tresses of the weeping morne, Will rob me of: and thus my tombe shall be As naked, as it had no obsequie. Know in these lines, sad musicke to thy eare, My sad _Castara_, you the sermon here Which I preach o're my hearse: And dead, I tell My owne lives story, ring but my owne knell. But when I shall returne, know 'tis thy breath In sighes divided, rescues me from death.

_To_ CASTARA, _Weeping_.

_Castara!_ O you are too prodigall Oth' treasure of your teares; which thus let fall Make no returne: well plac'd calme peace might bring To the loud wars, each free a captiv'd King. So the unskilfull Indian those bright jems, Which might adde majestie to Diadems, 'Mong the waves scatters, as if he would store The thanklesse Sea, to make our Empire poore. When heaven darts thunder at the wombe of Time, Cause with each moment it brings forth a crime, Or else despairing to roote out abuse, Would ruine vitious earth; be then profuse. Light, chas'd rude chaos from the world before, Thy teares, by hindring it's returne, worke more.

_To_ CASTARA, _Upon a sigh_.

I Heard a sigh, and something in my eare Did whisper, what my soule before did feare. That it was breath'd by thee. May th' easie Spring Enricht with odours, wanton on the wing Of th' Easterne wind, may ne're his beauty fade, If he the treasure of this breath convey'd; 'Twas thine by 'th musicke which th' harmonious breath Of Swans is like, propheticke in their death: And th' odour, for as it the nard expires, Perfuming Phœnix-like his funerall fires. The winds of Paradice send such a gale, To make the Lovers vessels calmely saile To his lov'd Port. This shall, where it inspires, Increase the chaste, extinguish unchaste fires.

_To the Right Honourable the Lady_ F.

Madam.

You saw our loves, and prais'd the mutuall flame; In which as incense to your sacred name Burnes a religious zeale. May we be lost To one another, and our fire be frost; When we omit to pay the tribute due To worth and vertue, and in them to you: Who are the soule of women. Others be But beauteous parts oth' female body; she Who boasts how many nimble _Cupids_ skip Through her bright face, is but an eye or lip: The other who in her soft brests can show Warme Violets growing in a banke of snow, And vaunts the lovely wonder, is but skin: Nor is she but a hand, who holds within The chrystall violl of her wealthy palme, The precious sweating of the Easterne balme. And all these if you them together take, And joyne with art, will but one body make, To which the soule each vitall motion gives; You are infus'd into it, and it lives. But should you up to your blest mansion flie, How loath'd an object would the carkasse lie? You are all mind. _Castara_ when she lookes, On you th' Epitome of all, that bookes Or e're tradition taught; who gives such praise Unto your sex, that now even customes sayes He hath a female soule, who ere hath writ Volumes which learning comprehend, and wit. _Castara_ cries to me; Search out and find The Mines of wisedome in her learned mind, And trace her steps to honour; I aspire Enough to worth, while I her worth admire.

_To_ CASTARA, _Against opinion_.

Why should we build, _Castara_, in the aire Of fraile opinion? Why admire as faire, What the weake faith of man gives us for right? The jugling world cheats but the weaker sight. What is in greatnesse happy? As free mirth, As ample pleasures of th' indulgent earth We joy, who on the ground our mansion finde, As they, who saile like witches in the wind Of Court applause. What can their powerfull spell Over inchanted man, more than compell Him into various formes? Nor serves their charme Themselves to good, but to worke others harme. Tyrant Opinion but depose. And we Will absolute ith' happiest Empire be.

_To_ CASTARA. _Upon beautie._

_Castara_, see that dust, the sportive wind So wantons with. 'Tis happ'ly all you'le finde Left of some beauty: and how still it flies, To trouble, as it did in life, our eyes. O empty boast of flesh? Though our heires gild The farre fetch Phrigian marble, which shall build A burthen to our ashes, yet will death Betray them to the sport of every breath. Dost thou, poor relique of our frailty, still Swell up with glory? Or is it thy skill, To mocke weake man, whom every wind of praise Into the aire, doth 'bove his center raise. If so, mocke on, And tell him that his lust To beauty's, madnesse. For it courts but dust.

_To_ CASTARA, _Melancholly_.

Were but that sigh a penitentiall breath That thou art mine: It would blow with it death, T' inclose me in my marble: Where I'de be Slave to the tyrant wormes, to set thee free. What should we envy? Though with larger saile Some dance upon the Ocean: yet more fraile And faithlesse is that wave, than where we glide, Blest in the safety of a private tide. We still have land in ken. And 'cause our boat Dares not affront the weather, wee'le ne're float Farre from the shore. To daring them each cloud Is big with thunder, every wind speakes loud. And though wild rockes about the shore appeare Yet vertue will finde roome to anchor there.

_A Dialogue betweene_ ARAPHILL _and_ CASTARA.