Chapter 1

Et mihi dulce magis resoluto vivere collo.

412. _The Mad Maid's Song._ A manuscript version of this song is contained in Harleian MS. 6917, fol. 48, ver. 80. The chief variants are: st. i. l. 2, _morrow_ for _morning_; l. 4, _all dabbled_ for _bedabbled_; st. ii. l. 1, _cowslip_ for _primrose_; l. 3, _tears_ for _flowers_; l. 4, _was_ for _is_; st. v. l. 1, _hope_ for _know_; st. vii. l. 2, _balsam_ for _cowslips_.

415. _Whither dost thou whorry me._ Quo me, Bacche, rapis tui Plenum? Hor. III. _Od._ xxv. 1.

430. _As Sallust saith_, _i.e._, the pseudo-Sallust in the _Epist. ad Cai. Cæs. de Repub. Ordinanda_.

431. _Every time seems short._ Epigr. in Farnabii, _Florileg._ [a. 1629]:--

Τοῖσι μὲν εὖ πράττουσιν ἅπας ὁ βίος βραχύς ἐστιν· Τοῖς δὲ κακῶς, μία νὺξ ἄπλετός ἐστι χρόνος.

443. _Oberon's Palace.--After the feast (my Shapcott) see._ See 223, 293, from which it is a pity that this poem should have been divorced. Of the _Palace_ there are as many as three MS. versions, viz., Add. 22, 603 (p. 59), and Add. 25, 303 (p. 157), at the British Museum, both of which I have collated, and Ashmole MS. 38, which I only know through my predecessors. The three MSS. appear to agree very harmoniously, and they unite in increasing our knowledge of Herrick by a passage of twenty-seven lines, following on the words "And here and there and farther off," and in lieu of the next four and a half lines in _Hesperides_. They read as follows:--

"Some sort of pear, Apple or plum, is neatly laid (As if it was a tribute paid) By the round urchin; some mixt wheat The which the ant did taste, not eat; Deaf nuts, soft Jews'-ears, and some thin Chippings, the mice filched from the bin Of the gray farmer, and to these The scraps of lentils, chitted peas, Dried honeycombs, brown acorn cups, Out of the which he sometimes sups His herby broth, and there close by Are pucker'd bullace, cankers (?), dry Kernels, and withered haws; the rest Are trinkets fal'n from the kite's nest, As butter'd bread, the which the wild Bird snatched away from the crying child, Blue pins, tags, fesenes, beads and things Of higher price, as half-jet rings, Ribbons and then some silken shreaks The virgins lost at barley-breaks. Many a purse-string, many a thread Of gold and silver therein spread, _Many a counter, many a die, Half rotten and without an eye, Lies here about_, and, as we guess, Some bits of thimbles seem to dress The brave cheap work; _and for to pave The excellency of this cave, Squirrels and children's teeth late shed_, Serve here, both which _enchequered_ With castors' doucets, which poor they Bite off themselves to 'scape away: Brown _toadstones_, ferrets' eyes, _the gum That shines_," etc.

The italicised words in the last few lines appear in _Hesperides_; all the rest are new. Other variants are: "The grass of Lemster ore soberly sparkling" for "the finest Lemster ore mildly disparkling"; "girdle" for "ceston"; "The eyes of all doth strait bewitch" for "All with temptation doth bewitch"; "choicely hung" for "neatly hung"; "silver roach" for "silvery fish"; "cave" for "room"; "get reflection" for "make reflected"; "Candlemas" for "taper-light"; "moon-tane" for "moon-tanned," etc., etc.

_Kings though they're hated._ The "Oderint dum metuant" of the _Atreus_ of Accius, quoted by Cicero and Seneca.

446. _To Oenone._ Printed in _Witts Recreations_, 1650, under the title: "The Farewell to Love and to his Mistress," and with the unlucky misprint "court" for "covet" (also "for" for "but") in the stanza iii. l. i.

447. _Grief breaks the stoutest heart._ Frangit fortia corda dolor. Tibull. III. ii. 6.

451. _To the right gracious Prince, Lodowick, Duke of Richmond and Lennox._ There appears to me to be a blunder here which Dr. Grosart and Mr. Hazlitt do not elucidate, by recording the birth of Lodowick, first Duke of Richmond, in 1574, his succession to the Lennox title in 1583, creation as Duke of Richmond in May, 1623, and death in the following February. For this first duke was no "stem" left "of all those three brave brothers fallen in the war," and the allusion here is undoubtedly to his nephews--George, Lord d'Aubigny, who fell at Edgehill; Lord John Stewart, who fell at Alresford; and Lord Bernard Stewart (Earl of Lichfield), who fell at Rowton Heath. In elucidation of Herrick's Dirge (219) over the last of these three brothers, I have already quoted Clarendon's remark, that he was "the third brother of that illustrious family that sacrificed his life in this quarrel," and it cannot be doubted that Herrick is here alluding to the same fact. The poem must therefore have been written after 1645, _i.e._, more than twenty years after the death of Duke Lodowick. But the duke then living was James, who succeeded his father Esme in 1624, was recreated Duke of Richmond in 1641, and did not die till 1655. It is true that there was a brother named Lodovic, but he was an abbot in France and never succeeded to the title. Herrick, therefore, seems to have blundered in the Christian name.

453. _Let's live in haste._ From Martial, VII. xlvii. 11, 12:--

Vive velut rapto: fugitivaque gaudia carpe: Perdiderit nullum vita reversa diem.

457. _While Fates permit._ From Seneca, _Herc. Fur._ 177:--

Dum Fata sinunt, Vivite laeti: properat cursu Vita citato, volucrique die Rota praecipitis vertitur anni.

459. _With Horace_ (IV. _Od._ ix. 29):--

Paulùm sepultae distat inertiae Celata virtus.

465. _The parting Verse or charge to his Supposed Wife when he travelled._ MS. variants of this poem are found at the British Museum in Add. 22, 603, and in Ashmole MS. 38. Their title, "Mr. Herrick's charge to his wife," led Mr. Payne Collier to rashly identify with the poet a certain Robert Herrick married at St. Clement Danes, 1632, to a Jane Gibbons. The variants are numerous, but not very important. In l. 4 we have "draw wooers" for "draw thousands"; ll. 11-16 are transposed to after l. 28; and "Are the expressions of that itch" is written "As emblems will express that itch"; ll. 27, 28 appear as:--

"For that once lost thou _needst must fall To one, then prostitute to all:_

And we then have the transposed passage:--

Nor so immurèd would I have Thee live, as dead, _or_ in thy grave; But walk abroad, yet wisely well _Keep 'gainst_ my coming sentinel. And think _each man thou seest doth doom Thy thoughts to say, I back am come._

Farther on we have the rather pretty variant:--

"Let them _call thee wondrous fair, Crown of women_, yet despair".

Eight lines lower "virtuous" is read for "gentle," and the omission of some small words throws some light on a change in Herrick's metrical views as he grew older. The words omitted are bracketed:--

"[And] Let thy dreams be only fed With this, that I am in thy bed. And [thou] then turning in that sphere, Waking findst [shall find] me sleeping there. But [yet] if boundless lust must scale Thy fortress and _must_ needs prevail _'Gainst thee and_ force a passage in," etc.

Other variants are: "Creates the action" for "That makes the action"; "Glory" for "Triumph"; "my last signet" for "this compression"; "turn again in my full triumph" for "come again, As one triumphant," and "the height of womankind" for "all faith of womankind".

_The body sins not, 'tis the will_, etc. A maxim of law Latin: Actus non facit reum nisi mens sit rea.

466. _To his Kinsman, Sir Thos. Soame_, son of Sir Stephen Soame, Lord Mayor of London, 1589, and of Anne Stone, Herrick's aunt. Sir Thomas was Sheriff of London, 1635, M.P. for the City, 1640, and died Jan., 1670. See Cussan's _Hertfortshire_. (_Hundred of Edwinstree_, p. 100.)

470. _Few Fortunate._ A variant on the text (Matt. xx. 16): "Many be called but few chosen".

479. _To Rosemary and Bays._ The use of rosemary and bays at weddings forms a section in Brand's chapter on marriage customs (ii. 119). For the gilding he quotes from a wedding sermon preached in 1607 by Roger Hacket: "Smell sweet, O ye flowers, in your native sweetness: be not gilded with the idle art of man". The use of gloves at weddings forms the subject of another section in Brand (ii. 125). He quotes Ben Jonson's _Silent Woman_; "We see no ensigns of a wedding here, no character of a bridal; where be our scarves and our gloves?"

483. _To his worthy friend, M. Thomas Falconbrige._ As Herrick hints at his friend's destiny for a public career, it seemed worth while to hunt through the Calendar of State Papers for a chance reference to this Falconbridge, who so far has evaded editors. He is apparently the Mr. Thomas Falconbridge who appears in various papers between 1640 and 1644, as passing accounts, and in the latter year was "Receiver-General at Westminster".

_Towers reared high_, etc. Cp. Horace, _Od._ II. x. 9-12.

Saepius ventis agitatur ingens Pinus, et celsae graviore casu Decidunt turres, feriuntque summos Fulgura montes.

486. _He's lord of thy life_, etc. Seneca, _Epist. Mor._ iv.: Quisquis vitam suam contempsit tuae dominus est. Quoted by Montaigne, I. xxiii.

488. _Shame is a bad attendant to a state._ From Seneca, _Hippol._ 431: Malus est minister regii imperii pudor.

_He rents his crown that fears the people's hate._ Also from Seneca, _Oedipus_, 701: Odia qui nimium timet regnare nescit.

496. _To his honoured kinsman, Sir Richard Stone_, son of John Stone, sergeant-at-law, the brother of Julian Stone, Herrick's mother. He died in 1660.

_To this white temple of my heroes._ Ben Jonson's admirers were proud to call themselves "sealed of the tribe of Ben," and Herrick, a devout Jonsonite, seems to have imitated the idea so far as to plan sometimes, as here, a Temple, sometimes a Book (see _infra_, 510), sometimes a City (365), a Plantation (392), a Calendar (545), a College (983), of his own favourite friends, to whom his poetry was to give immortality. The earliest direct reference to this plan is in his address to John Selden, the antiquary (365), in which he writes:--

"A city here of heroes I have made Upon the rock whose firm foundation laid Shall never shrink; where, making thine abode, Live thou a Selden, that's a demi-god".

It is noteworthy that the poems which contain the clearest reference to this Temple (or its variants) are mostly addressed to kinsfolk, _e.g._, this to Sir Richard Stone, to Mrs. Penelope Wheeler, to Mr. Stephen Soame, and to Susanna and Thomas Herrick. Other recipients of the honour are Sir Edward Fish and Dr. Alabaster, Jack Crofts, Master J. Jincks, etc.

497. _All flowers sent_, etc. See Virgil's--or the Virgilian--_Culex_, ll. 397-410.

_Martial's bee._ See _Epig._ IV. xxxii.

De ape electro inclusa. Et latet et lucet Phaethontide condita gutta, Ut videatur apis nectare clausa suo. Dignum tantorum pretium tulit illa laborum. Credibile est ipsam sic voluisse mori.

500. _To Mistress Dorothy Parsons._ This "saint" from Herrick's Temple may certainly be identified with the second of the three children (William, Dorothy, and Thomasine) of Mr. John Parsons, organist and master of the choristers at Westminster Abbey, where he was buried in 1623. Herrick addresses another poem to her sister Thomasine:--

"Grow up in beauty, as thou dost begin, And be of all admired, Thomasine".

502. _'Tis sin to throttle wine._ Martial, I. xix. 5: Scelus est jugulare Falernum.

506. _Edward, Earl of Dorset_, Knight of the Garter, grandson of Thomas Sackville, author of _Gorboduc_. He succeeded his brother, Richard Sackville, the third earl, in 1624, and died in 1652. Clarendon describes a duel which he fought with Lord Bruce in Flanders.

_Of your own self a public theatre._ Cp. Burton (Democ. to Reader) "Ipse mihi theatrum".

510. _To his Kinswoman, Mrs. Penelope Wheeler._ See Note on 130.

511. _A mighty strife 'twixt form and chastity._ Lis est cum formâ magna pudicitiæ. Quoted from Ovid by Burton, who translates: "Beauty and honesty have ever been at odds".

514. _To the Lady Crew, upon the death of her child._ This must be the child buried in Westminster Abbey, according to the entry in the register "1637/8, Feb. 6. Sir Clipsy Crewe's daughter, in the North aisle of the monuments." Colonel Chester annotates: "She was a younger daughter, and was born at Crewe, 27th July, 1631. She died on the 4th of February, and must have been an independent heiress, as her father administered to her estate on the 24th May following."

515. _Here needs no Court for our Request._ An allusion to the Court of Requests, established in the time of Richard II. as a lesser Court of Equity for the hearing of "all poor men's suits". It was abolished in 1641, at the same time as the Star Chamber.

517. _The new successor drives away old love._ From Ovid, _Rem. Am._ 462: Successore novo vincitur omnis amor.

519. _Born I was to meet with age._ Cp. 540. From Anacreon, 38 [24]:--

Ἐπείδη βρότος ἐτέχθην, Βιότου τρίβον ὁδεύειν, Χρόνον ἔγνων ὃν παρῆλθον, Ὅν δ' ἔχω δραμεῖν οὐκ οἶδα· Μέθετέ με, φρονίιδες· Μηδέν μοι καὶ ὑμῖν ἔστω. Πρὶν ἐμὲ φθάσῃ τὸ τέρμα, Παίξω, γελάσω, χορεύσω, Μετὰ τοῦ καλοῦ Λυαίου.

520. _Fortune did never favour one._ From Dionys. Halicarn. as quoted by Burton, II. iii. 1, § 1.

521. _To Phillis to love and live with him._ A variant on Marlowe's theme: "Come live with me and be my love". Donne's _The Bait_ (printed in Grosart's edition, vol. ii. p. 206) is another.

522. _To his Kinswoman, Mistress Susanna Herrick_, wife of his elder brother Nicholas.

523. _Susanna Southwell._ Probably a daughter of Sir Thomas Southwell, for whom Herrick wrote the Epithalamium (No. 149).

525. _Her pretty feet_, etc. Cp. Suckling's "Ballad upon a Wedding":--

"Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light".

526. _To his Honoured Friend, Sir John Mynts._ John Mennis, a Vice-Admiral of the fleet and knighted in 1641, refused to join in the desertion of the fleet to the Parliament. After the Restoration he was made Governor of Dover and Chief Comptroller of the Navy. He was one of the editors of the collection called _Musarum Deliciæ_ (1656), in the first poem of which there is an allusion to--

"That old sack Young Herrick took to entertain The Muses in a sprightly vein".

527. _Fly me not_, etc. From Anacreon, 49 [34]:--

Μή με φύγῃς, ὁρῶσα Τὰν πολιὰν ἔθειραν· ... Ὅρα κἀν στεφάνοισιν Ὅπως πρέπει τὰ λευκὰ Ῥόδοις κρίν' ἐμπλακέντα.

529. _As thou deserv'st be proud._ Cp. Hor. III. _Od._ xxx. 14:--

Sume superbiam Quaesitam meritis et mihi Delphica Lauro cinge volens, Melpomene, comam.

534. _To Electra._ Printed in _Witts Recreations_, 1650, where it is entitled _To Julia_.

536. _Ill Government.... When kings obey_, etc. From Seneca, _Octav._ 581:--

Male imperatur, cum regit vulgus duces.

545. _To his Worthy Kinsman, Mr. Stephen Soame_ (the son or, less probably, the brother of Sir Thomas Soame): _One of my righteous tribe_. Cp. Note to 496.

547. _Great spirits never with their bodies die._ Tacit. _Agric._ 46:--"Si quis piorum manibus locus, si, ut sapientibus placet, non cum corpore extinguuntur magnae animae".

554. _Die thou canst not all._ Hor. IV. _Od._ xxx. 6,7.

556. _The Fairies._ Cp. the old ballad of _Robin Goodfellow_:--

"When house or hearth doth sluttish lie, I pinch the maids both black and blue";

and Ben Jonson's _Entertainment at Althorpe_, etc.

557. _M. John Weare, Councellour._ Probably the same as "the much-lamented Mr. J. Warr" of 134.

_Law is to give to every one his own._ Cicero, _De Fin._ v.: Animi affectio suum cuique tribuens Justitia dicitur.

564. _His Kinswoman, Bridget Herrick_, eldest daughter of his brother Nicholas.

565. _The Wanton Satyr._ See Sir E. Dyer's _The Shepherd's Conceit of Prometheus_:--

"Prometheus, when first from heaven high He brought down fire, ere then on earth not seen, Fond of delight, a Satyr standing by Gave it a kiss, as it like sweet had been. ... ... ... ... The difference is--the Satyr's lips, my heart, He for a time, I evermore, have smart."

So _Euphues_: "Satirus not knowing what fire was would needs embrace it and was burnt;" and Sir John Davies, _False and True Knowledge_.

Transcriber's Endnotes

Numeration Errors in the Hesperides:

Errors in the numbering system, despite the corrections mentioned in the NOTE TO SECOND EDITION, still exist in the text. A clear example is shown by _569. UPON ELECTRA'S TEARS_ ending Vol. I, whilst Vol. II begins with _569. A HYMN TO THE GRACES_. When the poems within the APPENDIX OF EPIGRAMS are considered, more errors in the numeration system become apparent.

Without an obvious solution to a discrepancy the numbers remain as originally printed, however the following alterations have been made to ensure any details in the NOTES section apply to the relevant poem.

Page 204. OBERON'S PALACE. "444" changed to _443_. "443. OBERON'S PALACE."

Page 221. FEW FORTUNATE. "472" changed to _470_. "470. FEW FORTUNATE."

Page 223. THE WASSAIL. "478" changed to _476_. "476. THE WASSAIL."

Page 317. Note to 496. "512" changed to _510_. "... sometimes a Book (see infra, 510) ..."

Page 321. Note to 545. "498" changed to _496_. "... Cp. Note to 496...."

Page 322. Note to 564. "562" changed to _564_. "564. _His Kinswoman, Bridget Herrick_, eldest ..."

Page 322. Note to 565. "563" changed to _565_. "565. _The Wanton Satyr._ See Sir E. Dyer's ..."

Typographical Errors:

Page 83. 178. CORINNA'S GOING.... "pries" corrected to _priest_. "And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:"

Page 137. 275. CROSSES. "goods" corrected to _good_. "Though good things answer many good intents,"

Page 316. Note to 479. " owers" corrected to _flowers_. "Smell sweet, O ye flowers, in your native sweetness:"

Unresolved Errors:

The following errors remain as printed:

In 405. TO HIS BOOK., _Chipperfeild_, has been retained as it is unclear whether this is a misprint, or intentional.

In 101. BARLEY-BREAK; OR, LAST IN HELL. No corresponding note can be found for _Barley-break, a country game resembling prisoners' base_.

ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS.

ROBERT HERRICK

THE HESPERIDES & NOBLE NUMBERS: EDITED BY ALFRED POLLARD WITH A PREFACE BY A. C. SWINBURNE

VOL. II.

_REVISED EDITION_

LONDON: NEW YORK: LAWRENCE & BULLEN, LTD., CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 16 HENRIETTA STREET, W.C. 153-157 FIFTH AVENUE 1898. 1898.

HESPERIDES.

569. A HYMN TO THE GRACES.

When I love (as some have told, Love I shall when I am old), O ye Graces! make me fit For the welcoming of it. Clean my rooms, as temples be, T' entertain that deity. Give me words wherewith to woo, Suppling and successful too; Winning postures, and, withal, Manners each way musical: Sweetness to allay my sour 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.

_Suppling_, softening. _Mercury_, god of eloquence and inventor of the lyre.

570. TO SILVIA.

No more, my Silvia, do I mean to pray For those good days that ne'er will come away. I want belief; O gentle Silvia, be The patient saint, and send up vows for me.

573. 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'll hang upon the tree, And give it to the sylvan deity.

574. TRUE FRIENDSHIP.

Wilt thou my true friend be? Then love not mine, but me.

575. THE APPARITION OF HIS MISTRESS CALLING HIM TO ELYSIUM.

_Desunt nonnulla ----_

Come then, and like two doves with silv'ry wings, Let our souls fly to th' shades where ever springs Sit smiling in the meads; where balm and oil, Roses and cassia crown the untill'd soil. Where no disease reigns, or infection comes To blast the air, but ambergris and gums This, that, and ev'ry thicket doth transpire, More sweet than storax from the hallowed fire, Where ev'ry tree a wealthy issue bears Of fragrant apples, blushing plums, or pears; And all the shrubs, with sparkling spangles, shew Like morning sunshine tinselling the dew. Here in green meadows sits eternal May, Purfling the margents, while perpetual day So double gilds the air, as that no night Can ever rust th' enamel of the light. Here, naked younglings, handsome striplings, run Their goals for virgins' kisses; which when done, Then unto dancing forth the learned round Commixed they meet, with endless roses crown'd. And here we'll sit on primrose-banks, and see Love's chorus led by Cupid; and we'll be Two loving followers, too, unto the grove Where poets sing the stories of our love. There thou shalt hear divine Musæus sing Of Hero and Leander; then I'll bring Thee to the stand, where honour'd Homer reads His Odysseys and his high Iliads; About whose throne the crowd of poets throng To hear the incantation of his tongue: To Linus, then to Pindar; and that done, I'll bring thee, Herrick, to Anacreon, Quaffing his full-crown'd bowls of burning wine, And in his raptures speaking lines of thine, Like to his subject; and as his frantic Looks show him truly Bacchanalian-like Besmear'd with grapes, welcome he shall thee thither, Where both may rage, both drink and dance together. Then stately Virgil, witty Ovid, by Whom fair Corinna sits, and doth comply With ivory wrists his laureate head, and steeps His eye in dew of kisses while he sleeps; Then soft Catullus, sharp-fang'd Martial, And towering Lucan, Horace, Juvenal, And snaky Persius, these, and those, whom rage (Dropt for the jars of heaven) fill'd t' engage All times unto their frenzies,--thou shalt there Behold them in a spacious theatre. Among which glories, crowned with sacred bays And flatt'ring ivy, two recite their plays-- Beaumont and Fletcher, swans to whom all ears Listen, while they, like syrens in their spheres, Sing their Evadne; and still more for thee There yet remains to know than thou can'st see By glim'ring of a fancy. Do but come, And there I'll show thee that capacious room In which thy father Jonson now is plac'd, As in a globe of radiant fire, and grac'd To be in that orb crown'd, that doth include Those prophets of the former magnitude, And he one chief; but hark, I hear the cock (The bellman of the night) proclaim the clock Of late struck one, and now I see the prime Of day break from the pregnant east: 'tis time I vanish; more I had to say, But night determines here, away.

_Purfling_, trimming, embroidering. _Round_, rustic dance. _Comply_, encircle. _Their Evadne_, the sister of Melantius in their play "The Maid's Tragedy".

576. LIFE IS THE BODY'S LIGHT.

Life is the body's light, which once declining, Those crimson clouds i' th' cheek and lips leave shining. Those counter-changed tabbies in the air (The sun once set) all of one colour are. So, when Death comes, fresh tinctures lose their place, And dismal darkness then doth smutch the face.

_Tabbies_, shot silks.

579. LOVE LIGHTLY PLEASED.

Let fair or foul my mistress be, Or low, or tall, she pleaseth me; Or let her walk, or stand, or sit, The posture hers, I'm pleas'd with it; Or let her tongue be still, or stir, Graceful is every thing from her; Or let her grant, or else deny, _My love will fit each history_.

580. THE PRIMROSE.

Ask me why I send you here This sweet Infanta of the year? Ask me why I send to you This primrose, thus bepearl'd with dew? I will whisper to your ears: The sweets of love are mix'd with tears.

Ask me why this flower does show So yellow-green, and sickly too? Ask me why the stalk is weak And bending (yet it doth not break)? I will answer: These discover What fainting hopes are in a lover.

581. THE TITHE. TO THE BRIDE.

If nine times you your bridegroom kiss, The tenth you know the parson's is. Pay then your tithe, and doing thus, Prove in your bride-bed numerous. If children you have ten, Sir John Won't for his tenth part ask you one.

_Sir John_, the parson.

582. A FROLIC.

Bring me my rosebuds, drawer, come; So, while I thus sit crown'd, I'll drink the aged Cæcubum, Until the roof turn round.

_Drawer_, waiter. _Cæcubum_, Cæcuban, an old Roman wine.

583. CHANGE COMMON TO ALL.

All things subjected are to fate; Whom this morn sees most fortunate, The evening sees in poor estate.

584. TO JULIA.

The saints'-bell calls, and, Julia, I must read The proper lessons for the saints now dead: To grace which service, Julia, there shall be One holy collect said or sung for thee. Dead when thou art, dear Julia, thou shalt have A trentall sung by virgins o'er thy grave: Meantime we two will sing the dirge of these, Who dead, deserve our best remembrances.

_Trentall_, a service for the dead.

585. NO LUCK IN LOVE.

I do love I know not what, Sometimes this and sometimes that; All conditions I aim at.

But, as luckless, I have yet Many shrewd disasters met To gain her whom I would get.

Therefore now I'll love no more As I've doted heretofore: He who must be, shall be poor.

586. IN THE DARK NONE DAINTY.

Night hides our thefts, all faults then pardon'd be; All are alike fair when no spots we see. Lais and Lucrece in the night-time are Pleasing alike, alike both singular: Joan and my lady have at that time one, One and the self-same priz'd complexion: Then please alike the pewter and the plate, The chosen ruby, and the reprobate.

_Lais and Lucrece_, opposite types of incontinence and purity. Cp. 665, 885.

587. A CHARM, OR AN ALLAY FOR LOVE.

If so be a toad be laid In a sheep's-skin newly flay'd, And that tied to man, 'twill sever Him and his affections ever.

590. TO HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW, MASTER JOHN WINGFIELD.

For being comely, consonant, and free To most of men, but most of all to me; For so decreeing that thy clothes' expense Keeps still within a just circumference; Then for contriving so to load thy board As that the messes ne'er o'erlade the lord; Next for ordaining that thy words not swell To any one unsober syllable: These I could praise thee for beyond another, Wert thou a Winstfield only, not a brother.

_Consonant_, harmonious.

591. THE HEADACHE.

My head doth ache, O Sappho! take Thy fillet, And bind the pain, Or bring some bane To kill it.

But less that part Than my poor heart Now is sick; One kiss from thee Will counsel be And physic.

592. ON HIMSELF.

Live by thy muse thou shalt, when others die Leaving no fame to long posterity: When monarchies trans-shifted are, and gone, Here shall endure thy vast dominion.

593. UPON A MAID.

Hence a blessed soul is fled, Leaving here the body dead; Which since here they can't combine, For the saint we'll keep the shrine.

596. UPON THE TROUBLESOME TIMES.

O times most bad, Without the scope Of hope Of better to be had!

Where shall I go, Or whither run To shun This public overthrow?

No places are, This I am sure, Secure In this our wasting war.

Some storms we've past, Yet we must all Down fall, And perish at the last.

597. CRUELTY BASE IN COMMANDERS.

Nothing can be more loathsome than to see Power conjoin'd with Nature's cruelty.

599. UPON LUCIA.

I ask'd my Lucia but a kiss, And she with scorn denied me this; Say then, how ill should I have sped, Had I then ask'd her maidenhead?

600. LITTLE AND LOUD.

Little you are, for woman's sake be proud; For my sake next, though little, be not loud.

601. SHIPWRECK.

He who has suffered shipwreck fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.

602. PAINS WITHOUT PROFIT.

A long life's-day I've taken pains For very little, or no gains; The evening's come, here now I'll stop, And work no more, but shut up shop.

603. TO HIS BOOK.

Be bold, my book, nor be abash'd, or fear The cutting thumb-nail or the brow severe; But by the Muses swear all here is good If but well read, or, ill read, understood.

604. HIS PRAYER TO BEN JONSON.

When I a verse shall make, Know I have pray'd thee, For old religion's sake, Saint Ben, to aid me.

Make the way smooth for me, When I, thy Herrick, Honouring thee, on my knee Offer my lyric.

Candles I'll give to thee, And a new altar, And thou, Saint Ben, shall be Writ in my Psalter.

605. POVERTY AND RICHES.

Give Want her welcome if she comes; we find Riches to be but burdens to the mind.

606. AGAIN.

Who with a little cannot be content, Endures an everlasting punishment.

607. THE COVETOUS STILL CAPTIVES.

Let's live with that small pittance that we have; _Who covets more, is evermore a slave_.

608. LAWS.

When laws full power have to sway, we see Little or no part there of tyranny.

609. OF LOVE.

I'll get me hence, Because no fence Or fort that I can make here, But love by charms, Or else by arms Will storm, or starving take here.

611. TO HIS MUSE.

Go woo young Charles no more to look Than but to read this in my book: How Herrick begs, if that he can- Not like the muse, to love the man, Who by the shepherds sung, long since, The star-led birth of Charles the Prince.

_Long since_, _i.e._, in the "Pastoral upon the Birth of Prince Charles" (213), where see Note.

612. THE BAD SEASON MAKES THE POET SAD.

Dull to myself, and almost dead to these My many fresh and fragrant mistresses; Lost to all music now, since everything Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing. Sick is the land to the heart, and doth endure More dangerous faintings by her desp'rate cure. But if that golden age would come again, And Charles here rule, as he before did reign; If smooth and unperplexed the seasons were, As when the sweet Maria lived here: I should delight to have my curls half drown'd In Tyrian dews, and head with roses crown'd; And once more yet, ere I am laid out dead, _Knock at a star with my exalted head_.

_Knock at a star_ (sublimi feriam sidera vertice). Horace Ode, i. 1.

613. TO VULCAN.

Thy sooty godhead I desire Still to be ready with thy fire; That should my book despised be, Acceptance it might find of thee.

614. LIKE PATTERN, LIKE PEOPLE.

_This is the height of justice: that to do Thyself which thou put'st other men unto. As great men lead, the meaner follow on, Or to the good, or evil action._

615. PURPOSES.

No wrath of men or rage of seas Can shake a just man's purposes: No threats of tyrants or the grim Visage of them can alter him; But what he doth at first intend, That he holds firmly to the end.

616. TO THE MAIDS TO WALK ABROAD.

Come, sit we under yonder tree, Where merry as the maids we'll be; And as on primroses we sit, We'll venture, if we can, at wit: If not, at draw-gloves we will play; So spend some minutes of the day: Or else spin out the thread of sands, Playing at Questions and Commands: Or tell what strange tricks love can do, By quickly making one of two. Thus we will sit and talk, but tell No cruel truths of Philomel, Or Phyllis, whom hard fate forc'd on To kill herself for Demophon. But fables we'll relate: how Jove Put on all shapes to get a love; As now a satyr, then a swan; A bull but then, and now a man. Next we will act how young men woo, And sigh, and kiss as lovers do; And talk of brides, and who shall make That wedding-smock, this bridal cake, That dress, this sprig, that leaf, this vine, That smooth and silken columbine. This done, we'll draw lots who shall buy And gild the bays and rosemary; What posies for our wedding rings; What gloves we'll give and ribandings: And smiling at ourselves, decree, Who then the joining priest shall be. What short, sweet prayers shall be said; And how the posset shall be made With cream of lilies, not of kine, And maiden's-blush, for spiced wine. Thus, having talked, we'll next commend A kiss to each, and so we'll end.

_Draw-gloves_, talking on the fingers. _Philomela_, daughter of Pandion, changed into a nightingale. _Phyllis_, the S. Phyllis of a former lyric (To Groves). _Gild the bays_, see Note to 479.

617. HIS OWN EPITAPH.

As wearied pilgrims, once possest Of long'd-for lodging, go to rest, So I, now having rid my way, Fix here my button'd staff and stay. Youth, I confess, hath me misled; But age hath brought me right to bed.

_Button'd_, knobbed.

618. A NUPTIAL VERSE TO MISTRESS ELIZABETH LEE, NOW LADY TRACY.

Spring with the lark, most comely bride, and meet Your eager bridegroom with auspicious feet. The morn's far spent, and the immortal sun Corals his cheek to see those rites not done. Fie, lovely maid! indeed you are too slow, When to the temple Love should run, not go. Dispatch your dressing then, and quickly wed; Then feast, and coy't a little, then to bed. This day is Love's day, and this busy night Is yours, in which you challenged are to fight With such an arm'd, but such an easy foe, As will, if you yield, lie down conquer'd too. The field is pitch'd, but such must be your wars, As that your kisses must outvie the stars. Fall down together vanquished both, and lie Drown'd in the blood of rubies there, not die.

_Corals_, reddens.

619. THE NIGHT-PIECE, TO JULIA.

Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee; And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

No Will-o'-th'-Wisp mislight thee, Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee; But on, on thy way Not making a stay, Since ghost there's none to affright thee.

Let not the dark thee cumber: What though the moon does slumber? The stars of the night Will lend thee their light Like tapers clear without number.

Then, Julia, let me woo thee, Thus, thus to come unto me; And when I shall meet Thy silv'ry feet My soul I'll pour into thee.

620. TO SIR CLIPSEBY CREW.

Give me wine, and give me meat, To create in me a heat, That my pulses high may beat.

Cold and hunger never yet Could a noble verse beget; But your bowls with sack replete.

Give me these, my knight, and try In a minute's space how I Can run mad and prophesy.

Then, if any piece prove new And rare, I'll say, my dearest Crew, It was full inspired by you.

621. GOOD LUCK NOT LASTING.

If well the dice run, let's applaud the cast: _The happy fortune will not always last_.

622. A KISS.

What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: The sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.

623. GLORY.

I make no haste to have my numbers read: _Seldom comes glory till a man be dead_.

624. POETS.

Wantons we are, and though our words be such, Our lives do differ from our lines by much.

625. NO DESPITE TO THE DEAD.

Reproach we may the living, not the dead: _'Tis cowardice to bite the buried_.

626. TO HIS VERSES.

What will ye, my poor orphans, do When I must leave the world and you? Who'll give ye then a sheltering shed, Or credit ye when I am dead? Who'll let ye by their fire sit, Although ye have a stock of wit Already coin'd to pay for it? I cannot tell, unless there be Some race of old humanity Left, of the large heart and long hand, Alive, as noble Westmorland, Or gallant Newark, which brave two May fost'ring fathers be to you. If not, expect to be no less Ill us'd, than babes left fatherless.

_Westmorland_, _Newark_, see Notes.

627. HIS CHARGE TO JULIA AT HIS DEATH.

Dearest of thousands, now the time draws near That with my lines my life must full-stop here. Cut off thy hairs, and let thy tears be shed Over my turf when I am buried. Then for effusions, let none wanting be, Or other rites that do belong to me; As love shall help thee, when thou dost go hence Unto thy everlasting residence.

_Effusions_, the "due drink-offerings" of the lyric "To his lovely mistresses" (634).

628. UPON LOVE.

In a dream, Love bade me go To the galleys there to row; In the vision I ask'd why? Love as briefly did reply, 'Twas better there to toil, than prove The turmoils they endure that love. I awoke, and then I knew What Love said was too-too true; Henceforth therefore I will be, As from love, from trouble free. _None pities him that's in the snare, And, warned before, would not beware._

629. THE COBBLERS' CATCH.

Come sit we by the fire's side, And roundly drink we here; Till that we see our cheeks ale-dy'd And noses tann'd with beer.

633. CONNUBII FLORES, OR THE WELL-WISHES AT WEDDINGS.

_Chorus Sacerdotum._ From the temple to your home May a thousand blessings come! And a sweet concurring stream Of all joys to join with them.

_Chorus Juvenum._ Happy Day, Make no long stay Here In thy sphere; But give thy place to Night, That she, As thee, May be Partaker of this sight. And since it was thy care To see the younglings wed, 'Tis fit that Night the pair Should see safe brought to bed.

_Chorus Senum._ Go to your banquet then, but use delight, So as to rise still with an appetite. Love is a thing most nice, and must be fed To such a height, but never surfeited. What is beyond the mean is ever ill: _'Tis best to feed Love, but not overfill_; Go then discreetly to the bed of pleasure, And this remember, _virtue keeps the measure_.

_Chorus Virginum._ Lucky signs we have descri'd To encourage on the bride, And to these we have espi'd, Not a kissing Cupid flies Here about, but has his eyes To imply your love is wise.

_Chorus Pastorum._ Here we present a fleece To make a piece Of cloth; Nor, fair, must you be both Your finger to apply To housewifery. Then, then begin To spin: And, sweetling, mark you, what a web will come Into your chests, drawn by your painful thumb.

_Chorus Matronarum._ Set you to your wheel, and wax Rich by the ductile wool and flax. Yarn is an income, and the housewives' thread The larder fills with meat, the bin with bread.

_Chorus Senum._ Let wealth come in by comely thrift And not by any sordid shift; 'Tis haste Makes waste: Extremes have still their fault: _The softest fire makes the sweetest malt: Who grips too hard the dry and slippery sand Holds none at all, or little in his hand._

_Chorus Virginum._ Goddess of pleasure, youth and peace, Give them the blessing of increase: And thou, Lucina, that dost hear The vows of those that children bear: Whenas her April hour draws near, Be thou then propitious there.

_Chorus Juvenum._ Far hence be all speech that may anger move: _Sweet words must nourish soft and gentle love_.

_Chorus Omnium._ Live in the love of doves, and having told The raven's years, go hence more ripe than old.

_Nice_, dainty. _Painful_, painstaking; for the passage cp. Catull. _Nupt. Pel. et Thet._ 311-314.

634. TO HIS LOVELY MISTRESSES.

One night i' th' year, my dearest beauties, come And bring those due drink-offerings to my tomb. When thence ye see my reverend ghost to rise, And there to lick th' effused sacrifice: Though paleness be the livery that I wear, Look ye not wan or colourless for fear. Trust me, I will not hurt ye, or once show The least grim look, or cast a frown on you: Nor shall the tapers when I'm there burn blue. This I may do, perhaps, as I glide by, Cast on my girls a glance and loving eye, Or fold mine arms and sigh, because I've lost The world so soon, and in it you the most. Than these, no fears more on your fancies fall, Though then I smile and speak no words at all.

_Fold mine arms_, cp. "crossing his arms in this sad knot" (_Tempest_).

635. UPON LOVE.

A crystal vial Cupid brought, Which had a juice in it; Of which who drank, he said no thought Of love he should admit.

I, greedy of the prize, did drink, And emptied soon the glass; Which burnt me so, that I do think The fire of hell it was.

Give me my earthen cups again, The crystal I contemn; Which, though enchas'd with pearls, contain A deadly draught in them.

And thou, O Cupid! come not to My threshold, since I see, For all I have, or else can do, Thou still wilt cozen me.

638. THE BEGGAR TO MAB, THE FAIRY QUEEN.

Please your Grace, from out your store, Give an alms to one that's poor, That your mickle may have more. Black I'm grown for want of meat Give me then an ant to eat, Or the cleft ear of a mouse Over-sour'd in drink of souce; Or, sweet lady, reach to me The abdomen of a bee; Or commend a cricket's hip, Or his huckson, to my scrip. Give for bread a little bit Of a pea that 'gins to chit, And my full thanks take for it. Flour of fuzz-balls, that's too good For a man in needihood; But the meal of milldust can Well content a craving man. Any orts the elves refuse Well will serve the beggar's use. But if this may seem too much For an alms, then give me such Little bits that nestle there In the prisoner's panier. So a blessing light upon You and mighty Oberon: That your plenty last till when I return your alms again.

_Mickle_, much. _Souce_, salt-pickle. _Huckson_, huckle-bone. _Chit_, sprout. _Orts_, scraps of food. _Prisoner's panier_, the basket which poor prisoners used to hang out of the gaol windows for alms in money or kind.

639. AN END DECREED.

Let's be jocund while we may, All things have an ending day; And when once the work is done, _Fates revolve no flax they've spun_.

_Revolve_, _i.e._, bring back.

640. UPON A CHILD.

Here a pretty baby lies Sung asleep with lullabies; Pray be silent, and not stir Th' easy earth that covers her.

641. PAINTING SOMETIMES PERMITTED.

If Nature do deny Colours, let Art supply.

642. FAREWELL FROST, OR WELCOME THE SPRING.

Fled are the frosts, and now the fields appear Re-cloth'd in fresh and verdant diaper. Thaw'd are the snows, and now the lusty spring Gives to each mead a neat enamelling. The palms put forth their gems, and every tree Now swaggers in her leafy gallantry. The while the Daulian minstrel sweetly sings, With warbling notes, her Terean sufferings. What gentle winds perspire! As if here Never had been the northern plunderer To strip the trees and fields, to their distress, Leaving them to a pitied nakedness. And look how when a frantic storm doth tear A stubborn oak, or holm, long growing there, But lull'd to calmness, then succeeds a breeze That scarcely stirs the nodding leaves of trees: So when this war, which tempest-like doth spoil Our salt, our corn, our honey, wine and oil, Falls to a temper, and doth mildly cast His inconsiderate frenzy off, at last, The gentle dove may, when these turmoils cease, Bring in her bill, once more, the branch of peace.

_Gems_, buds. _Daulian minstrel_, the nightingale Philomela. _Terean sufferings_, _i.e._, at the hands of Tereus.

643. THE HAG.

The hag is astride This night for to ride, The devil and she together; Through thick and through thin, Now out and then in, Though ne'er so foul be the weather.

A thorn or a burr She takes for a spur, With a lash of a bramble she rides now; Through brakes and through briars, O'er ditches and mires, She follows the spirit that guides now.

No beast for his food Dare now range the wood, But hush'd in his lair he lies lurking; While mischiefs, by these, On land and on seas, At noon of night are a-working.

The storm will arise And trouble the skies; This night, and more for the wonder, The ghost from the tomb Affrighted shall come, Call'd out by the clap of the thunder.

644. UPON AN OLD MAN: A RESIDENTIARY.

Tread, sirs, as lightly as ye can Upon the grave of this old man. Twice forty, bating but one year And thrice three weeks, he lived here. Whom gentle fate translated hence To a more happy residence. Yet, reader, let me tell thee this, Which from his ghost a promise is, If here ye will some few tears shed, He'll never haunt ye now he's dead.

_Residentiary_, old inhabitant.

645. UPON TEARS.

Tears, though they're here below the sinner's brine, Above they are the angels' spiced wine.

646. PHYSICIANS.

Physicians fight not against men; but these Combat for men by conquering the disease.

647. THE PRIMITIÆ TO PARENTS.

Our household-gods our parents be; And manners good require that we The first fruits give to them, who gave Us hands to get what here we have.

649. UPON LUCY. EPIG.

Sound teeth has Lucy, pure as pearl, and small, With mellow lips, and luscious therewithal.

651. TO SILVIA.

I am holy while I stand Circum-crost by thy pure hand; But when that is gone, again I, as others, am profane.

_Circum-crost_, marked round with a cross.

652. TO HIS CLOSET-GODS.

When I go hence, ye Closet-Gods, I fear Never again to have ingression here Where I have had whatever thing could be Pleasant and precious to my muse and me. Besides rare sweets, I had a book which none Could read the intext but myself alone. About the cover of this book there went A curious-comely clean compartlement, And, in the midst, to grace it more, was set A blushing, pretty, peeping rubelet. But now 'tis closed; and being shut and seal'd, Be it, O be it, never more reveal'd! Keep here still, Closet-Gods, 'fore whom I've set Oblations oft of sweetest marmelet.

_Ingression_, entrance. _Intext_, contents.

653. A BACCHANALIAN VERSE.

Fill me a mighty bowl Up to the brim, That I may drink Unto my Jonson's soul.

Crown it again, again; And thrice repeat That happy heat, To drink to thee, my Ben.

Well I can quaff, I see, To th' number five Or nine; but thrive In frenzy ne'er like thee.

_To the number five or nine_, see Note.

654. LONG-LOOKED-FOR COMES AT LAST.

Though long it be, years may repay the debt; _None loseth that which he in time may get_.

655. TO YOUTH.

Drink wine, and live here blitheful, while ye may: _The morrow's life too late is; live to-day_.

656. NEVER TOO LATE TO DIE.

No man comes late unto that place from whence Never man yet had a regredience.

_Regredience_, return.

657. A HYMN TO THE MUSES.

O you the virgins nine! That do our souls incline To noble discipline! Nod to this vow of mine. Come, then, and now inspire My viol and my lyre With your eternal fire, And make me one entire Composer in your choir. Then I'll your altars strew With roses sweet and new; And ever live a true Acknowledger of you.

658. ON HIMSELF.

I'll sing no more, nor will I longer write Of that sweet lady, or that gallant knight. I'll sing no more of frosts, snows, dews and showers; No more of groves, meads, springs and wreaths of flowers. I'll write no more, nor will I tell or sing Of Cupid and his witty cozening: I'll sing no more of death, or shall the grave No more my dirges and my trentalls have.

_Trentalls_, service for the dead.

660. TO MOMUS.

Who read'st this book that I have writ, And can'st not mend but carp at it; By all the Muses! thou shalt be Anathema to it and me.

661. AMBITION.

In ways to greatness, think on this, _That slippery all ambition is_.

662. THE COUNTRY LIFE, TO THE HONOURED M. END. PORTER, GROOM OF THE BEDCHAMBER TO HIS MAJESTY.

Sweet country life, to such unknown Whose lives are others', not their own! But serving courts and cities, be Less happy, less enjoying thee. Thou never plough'st the ocean's foam To seek and bring rough pepper home; Nor to the Eastern Ind dost rove To bring from thence the scorched clove; Nor, with the loss of thy lov'd rest, Bring'st home the ingot from the West. No, thy ambition's masterpiece Flies no thought higher than a fleece; Or how to pay thy hinds, and clear All scores, and so to end the year: But walk'st about thine own dear bounds, Not envying others larger grounds: For well thou know'st _'tis not th' extent Of land makes life, but sweet content_. When now the cock (the ploughman's horn) Calls forth the lily-wristed morn, Then to thy corn-fields thou dost go, Which though well soil'd, yet thou dost know That the best compost for the lands Is the wise master's feet and hands. There at the plough thou find'st thy team With a hind whistling there to them; And cheer'st them up by singing how The kingdom's portion is the plough. This done, then to th' enamelled meads Thou go'st, and as thy foot there treads, Thou see'st a present God-like power Imprinted in each herb and flower; And smell'st the breath of great-ey'd kine, Sweet as the blossoms of the vine. Here thou behold'st thy large sleek neat Unto the dew-laps up in meat; And, as thou look'st, the wanton steer, The heifer, cow, and ox draw near To make a pleasing pastime there. These seen, thou go'st to view thy flocks Of sheep, safe from the wolf and fox, And find'st their bellies there as full Of short sweet grass as backs with wool, And leav'st them, as they feed and fill, A shepherd piping on a hill. For sports, for pageantry and plays Thou hast thy eves and holidays; On which the young men and maids meet To exercise their dancing feet; Tripping the comely country round, With daffodils and daisies crown'd. Thy wakes, thy quintels here thou hast, Thy May-poles, too, with garlands grac'd; Thy morris dance, thy Whitsun ale, Thy shearing feast which never fail; Thy harvest-home, thy wassail bowl, That's toss'd up after fox i' th' hole; Thy mummeries, thy Twelfth-tide kings And queens, thy Christmas revellings, Thy nut-brown mirth, thy russet wit, And no man pays too dear for it. To these, thou hast thy times to go And trace the hare i' th' treacherous snow; Thy witty wiles to draw, and get The lark into the trammel net; Thou hast thy cockrood and thy glade To take the precious pheasant made; Thy lime-twigs, snares and pit-falls then To catch the pilfering birds, not men. O happy life! if that their good The husbandmen but understood! Who all the day themselves do please, And younglings, with such sports as these, And lying down have nought t' affright Sweet sleep, that makes more short the night. _Cætera desunt ----_

_Soil'd_, manured. _Compost_, preparation. _Fox i' th' hole_, a hopping game in which boys beat each other with gloves. _Cockrood_, a run for snaring woodcocks. _Glade_, an opening in the wood across which nets were hung to catch game. (Willoughby, _Ornithologie_, i. 3.)

663. TO ELECTRA.

I dare not ask a kiss, I dare not beg a smile, Lest having that, or this, I might grow proud the while.

No, no, the utmost share Of my desire shall be Only to kiss that air That lately kissed thee.

664. TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND, M. ARTHUR BARTLY.

When after many lusters thou shalt be Wrapt up in sear-cloth with thine ancestry; When of thy ragg'd escutcheons shall be seen So little left, as if they ne'er had been; Thou shalt thy name have, and thy fame's best trust, Here with the generation of my Just.

_Luster_, a period of five years.

665. WHAT KIND OF MISTRESS HE WOULD HAVE.

Be the mistress of my choice Clean in manners, clear in voice; Be she witty more than wise, Pure enough, though not precise; Be she showing in her dress Like a civil wilderness; That the curious may detect Order in a sweet neglect; Be she rolling in her eye, Tempting all the passers-by; And each ringlet of her hair An enchantment, or a snare For to catch the lookers-on; But herself held fast by none. Let her Lucrece all day be, Thais in the night to me. Be she such as neither will _Famish me, nor overfill_.

667. THE ROSEMARY BRANCH.

Grow for two ends, it matters not at all, Be 't for my bridal or my burial.

669. UPON CRAB. EPIG.

Crab faces gowns with sundry furs; 'tis known He keeps the fox fur for to face his own.

670. A PARANÆTICALL, OR ADVISIVE VERSE, TO HIS FRIEND, M. JOHN WICKS.

Is this a life, to break thy sleep, To rise as soon as day doth peep? To tire thy patient ox or ass By noon, and let thy good days pass, Not knowing this, that Jove decrees Some mirth t' adulce man's miseries? No; 'tis a life to have thine oil Without extortion from thy soil; Thy faithful fields to yield thee grain, Although with some, yet little, pain; To have thy mind, and nuptial bed, With fears and cares uncumbered; A pleasing wife, that by thy side Lies softly panting like a bride. This is to live, and to endear Those minutes Time has lent us here. Then, while fates suffer, live thou free As is that air that circles thee, And crown thy temples too, and let Thy servant, not thy own self, sweat, To strut thy barns with sheafs of wheat. Time steals away like to a stream, And we glide hence away with them. _No sound recalls the hours once fled, Or roses, being withered_; Nor us, my friend, when we are lost, Like to a dew or melted frost. Then live we mirthful while we should, And turn the iron age to gold. Let's feast, and frolic, sing, and play, And thus less last than live our day. _Whose life with care is overcast, That man's not said to live, but last; Nor is't a life, seven years to tell, But for to live that half seven well;_ And that we'll do, as men who know, Some few sands spent, we hence must go, Both to be blended in the urn From whence there's never a return.

_Adulce_, sweeten. _Strut_, swell.

671. ONCE SEEN AND NO MORE.

Thousands each day pass by, which we, Once past and gone, no more shall see.

672. LOVE.

This axiom I have often heard, _Kings ought to be more lov'd than fear'd_.

673. TO M. DENHAM ON HIS PROSPECTIVE POEM.

Or look'd I back unto the times hence flown To praise those Muses and dislike our own-- Or did I walk those Pæan-gardens through, To kick the flowers and scorn their odours too-- I might, and justly, be reputed here One nicely mad or peevishly severe. But by Apollo! as I worship wit, Where I have cause to burn perfumes to it; So, I confess, 'tis somewhat to do well In our high art, although we can't excel Like thee, or dare the buskins to unloose Of thy brave, bold, and sweet Maronian muse. But since I'm call'd, rare Denham, to be gone, Take from thy Herrick this conclusion: 'Tis dignity in others, if they be Crown'd poets, yet live princes under thee; The while their wreaths and purple robes do shine Less by their own gems than those beams of thine.

_Pæan-gardens_, gardens sacred to Apollo. _Nicely_, fastidiously.

674. A HYMN TO THE LARES.

It was, and still my care is, To worship ye, the Lares, With crowns of greenest parsley And garlic chives, not scarcely; For favours here to warm me, And not by fire to harm me; For gladding so my hearth here With inoffensive mirth here; That while the wassail bowl here With North-down ale doth troul here, No syllable doth fall here To mar the mirth at all here. For which, O chimney-keepers! (I dare not call ye sweepers) So long as I am able To keep a country table, Great be my fare, or small cheer, I'll eat and drink up all here.

_Troul_, pass round.

675. DENIAL IN WOMEN NO DISHEARTENING TO MEN.

Women, although they ne'er so goodly make it, Their fashion is, but to say no, to take it.

676. ADVERSITY.

_Love is maintain'd by wealth_; when all is spent, _Adversity then breeds the discontent_.

677. TO FORTUNE.

Tumble me down, and I will sit Upon my ruins, smiling yet; Tear me to tatters, yet I'll be Patient in my necessity. Laugh at my scraps of clothes, and shun Me, as a fear'd infection; Yet, scare-crow-like, I'll walk as one Neglecting thy derision.

678. TO ANTHEA.

Come, Anthea, know thou this, _Love at no time idle is_; Let's be doing, though we play But at push-pin half the day; Chains of sweet bents let us make Captive one, or both, to take: In which bondage we will lie, Souls transfusing thus, and die.

_Push-pin_, a childish game in which one player placed a pin and the other pushed it. _Bents_, grasses.

679. CRUELTIES.

Nero commanded; but withdrew his eyes From the beholding death and cruelties.

680. PERSEVERANCE.

Hast thou begun an act? ne'er then give o'er: _No man despairs to do what's done before_.

681. UPON HIS VERSES.

What offspring other men have got, The how, where, when, I question not. These are the children I have left, Adopted some, none got by theft; But all are touch'd, like lawful plate, And no verse illegitimate.

_Touch'd_, tested.

682. DISTANCE BETTERS DIGNITIES.

Kings must not oft be seen by public eyes: _State at a distance adds to dignities_.

683. HEALTH.

Health is no other, as the learned hold, But a just measure both of heat and cold.

684. TO DIANEME. A CEREMONY IN GLOUCESTER.

I'll to thee a simnel bring, 'Gainst thou go'st a-mothering: So that when she blesseth thee, Half that blessing thou'lt give me.

_Simnel_, a cake, originally made of fine flour, eaten at Mid-Lent. _A-mothering_, visiting relations in Mid-Lent, but see Note.

685. TO THE KING.

Give way, give way! now, now my Charles shines here A public light, in this immensive sphere; Some stars were fix'd before, but these are dim Compar'd, in this my ample orb, to him. Draw in your feeble fires, while that he Appears but in his meaner majesty. Where, if such glory flashes from his name, Which is his shade, who can abide his flame! _Princes, and such like public lights as these, Must not be look'd on but at distances: For, if we gaze on these brave lamps too near, Our eyes they'll blind, or if not blind, they'll blear._

_Immensive_, immeasurable.

686. THE FUNERAL RITES OF THE ROSE.

The rose was sick, and smiling died; And, being to be sanctified, About the bed there sighing stood The sweet and flowery sisterhood. Some hung the head, while some did bring, To wash her, water from the spring. Some laid her forth, while others wept, But all a solemn fast there kept. The holy sisters, some among, The sacred dirge and trentall sung. But ah! what sweets smelt everywhere, As heaven had spent all perfumes there. At last, when prayers for the dead And rites were all accomplished, They, weeping, spread a lawny loom And clos'd her up, as in a tomb.

_Trentall_, a service for the dead.

687. THE RAINBOW, OR CURIOUS COVENANT.

Mine eyes, like clouds, were drizzling rain; And as they thus did entertain The gentle beams from Julia's sight To mine eyes levell'd opposite, O thing admir'd! there did appear A curious rainbow smiling there; Which was the covenant that she No more would drown mine eyes or me.

688. THE LAST STROKE STRIKES SURE.

Though by well warding many blows we've pass'd, _That stroke most fear'd is which is struck the last_.

689. FORTUNE.

Fortune's a blind profuser of her own, Too much she gives to some, enough to none.

690. STOOL-BALL.

At stool-ball, Lucia, let us play For sugar-cakes and wine: Or for a tansy let us pay, The loss, or thine, or mine.

If thou, my dear, a winner be At trundling of the ball, The wager thou shall have, and me, And my misfortunes all.

But if, my sweetest, I shall get, Then I desire but this: That likewise I may pay the bet And have for all a kiss.

_Stool-ball_, a game of ball played by girls. _Tansy_, a cake made of eggs, cream, and herbs.

691. TO SAPPHO.

Let us now take time and play, Love, and live here while we may; Drink rich wine, and make good cheer, While we have our being here; For once dead and laid i' th' grave, No return from thence we have.

692. ON POET PRAT. EPIG.

Prat he writes satires, but herein's the fault, In no one satire there's a mite of salt.

693. UPON TUCK. EPIG.

At post and pair, or slam, Tom Tuck would play This Christmas, but his want wherewith says nay.

_Post and pair, or slam_, old games of cards. Ben Jonson calls the former a "thrifty and right worshipful game".

694. BITING OF BEGGARS.

Who, railing, drives the lazar from his door, Instead of alms, sets dogs upon the poor.

695. THE MAY-POLE.

The May-pole is up! Now give me the cup, I'll drink to the garlands around it; But first unto those Whose hands did compose The glory of flowers that crown'd it.

A health to my girls, Whose husbands may earls Or lords be, granting my wishes, And when that ye wed To the bridal bed, Then multiply all like to fishes.

696. MEN MIND NO STATE IN SICKNESS.

That flow of gallants which approach To kiss thy hand from out the coach; That fleet of lackeys which do run Before thy swift postillion; Those strong-hoof'd mules which we behold Rein'd in with purple, pearl, and gold, And shod with silver, prove to be The drawers of the axletree. Thy wife, thy children, and the state Of Persian looms and antique plate; All these, and more, shall then afford No joy to thee, their sickly lord.

697. ADVERSITY.

Adversity hurts none, but only such Whom whitest fortune dandled has too much.

698. WANT.

Need is no vice at all, though here it be With men a loathed inconveniency.

699. GRIEF.

Sorrows divided amongst many, less Discruciate a man in deep distress.

_Discruciate_, torture.

700. LOVE PALPABLE.

I press'd my Julia's lips, and in the kiss Her soul and love were palpable in this.

701. NO ACTION HARD TO AFFECTION.

Nothing hard or harsh can prove Unto those that truly love.

702. MEAN THINGS OVERCOME MIGHTY.

By the weak'st means things mighty are o'erthrown. _He's lord of thy life who contemns his own_.

705. THE BRACELET OF PEARL: TO SILVIA.

I brake thy bracelet 'gainst my will, And, wretched, I did see Thee discomposed then, and still Art discontent with me.

One gem was lost, and I will get A richer pearl for thee, Than ever, dearest Silvia, yet Was drunk to Antony.

Or, for revenge, I'll tell thee what Thou for the breach shall do; First crack the strings, and after that Cleave thou my heart in two.

706. HOW ROSES CAME RED.

'Tis said, as Cupid danc'd among The gods he down the nectar flung, Which on the white rose being shed Made it for ever after red.

707. KINGS.

Men are not born kings, but are men renown'd; Chose first, confirm'd next, and at last are crown'd.

708. FIRST WORK, AND THEN WAGES.

Preposterous is that order, when we run To ask our wages ere our work be done.

_Preposterous_, lit. hind part before.

709. TEARS AND LAUGHTER.

Knew'st thou one month would take thy life away, Thou'dst weep; but laugh, should it not last a day.

710. GLORY.

Glory no other thing is, Tully says, Than a man's frequent fame spoke out with praise.

711. POSSESSIONS.

Those possessions short-liv'd are, Into the which we come by war.

713. HIS RETURN TO LONDON.

From the dull confines of the drooping West To see the day spring from the pregnant East, Ravish'd in spirit I come, nay, more, I fly To thee, bless'd place of my nativity! Thus, thus with hallowed foot I touch the ground, With thousand blessings by thy fortune crown'd. O fruitful Genius! that bestowest here An everlasting plenty, year by year. O place! O people! Manners! fram'd to please All nations, customs, kindreds, languages! I am a free-born Roman; suffer, then, That I amongst you live a citizen. London my home is: though by hard fate sent Into a long and irksome banishment; Yet since call'd back; henceforward let me be, O native country, repossess'd by thee! For, rather than I'll to the West return, I'll beg of thee first here to have mine urn. Weak I am grown, and must in short time fall; Give thou my sacred relics burial.

714. NOT EVERY DAY FIT FOR VERSE.

'Tis not ev'ry day that I Fitted am to prophesy; No; but when the spirit fills The fantastic pannicles Full of fire, then I write As the godhead doth indite. Thus enrag'd, my lines are hurled, Like the Sybil's, through the world. Look how next the holy fire Either slakes, or doth retire; So the fancy cools, till when That brave spirit comes again.

_Fantastic pannicles_, brain cells of the imagination. _Sybil's_, the oracles of the Cumæan Sybil were written on leaves, which the wind blew about her cave.--Virg. Æn. iv.

715. POVERTY THE GREATEST PACK.

To mortal men great loads allotted be, _But of all packs, no pack like poverty_.

716. A BUCOLIC, OR DISCOURSE OF NEATHERDS.

1. Come, blitheful neatherds, let us lay A wager who the best shall play, Of thee or I, the roundelay That fits the business of the day.

_Chor._ And Lalage the judge shall be, To give the prize to thee, or me.

2. Content, begin, and I will bet A heifer smooth, and black as jet, In every part alike complete, And wanton as a kid as yet.

_Chor._ And Lalage, with cow-like eyes, Shall be disposeress of the prize.

1. Against thy heifer, I will here Lay to thy stake a lusty steer With gilded horns, and burnish'd clear.

_Chor._ Why, then, begin, and let us hear The soft, the sweet, the mellow note That gently purls from either's oat.

2. The stakes are laid: let's now apply Each one to make his melody.

_Lal._ The equal umpire shall be I, Who'll hear, and so judge righteously.

_Chor._ Much time is spent in prate; begin, And sooner play, the sooner win.

[_1 Neatherd plays_

2. That's sweetly touch'd, I must confess, Thou art a man of worthiness; But hark how I can now express My love unto my neatherdess. [_He sings_

_Chor._ A sugar'd note! and sound as sweet As kine when they at milking meet.

1. Now for to win thy heifer fair, I'll strike thee such a nimble air That thou shalt say thyself 'tis rare, And title me without compare.

_Chor._ Lay by a while your pipes, and rest, Since both have here deserved best.

2. To get thy steerling, once again I'll play thee such another strain That thou shalt swear my pipe does reign Over thine oat as sovereign. [_He sings_

_Chor._ And Lalage shall tell by this, Whose now the prize and wager is.

1. Give me the prize. 2. The day is mine. 1. Not so; my pipe has silenc'd thine: And hadst thou wager'd twenty kine, They were mine own. _Lal._ In love combine.

_Chor._ And lay ye down your pipes together, As weary, not o'ercome by either.

_And lay_ ye _down your pipes_. The original edition reads _And lay_ we _down_ our _pipes_.

717. TRUE SAFETY.

'Tis not the walls or purple that defends A prince from foes, but 'tis his fort of friends.

718. A PROGNOSTIC.

As many laws and lawyers do express Nought but a kingdom's ill-affectedness; Even so, those streets and houses do but show Store of diseases where physicians flow.

719. UPON JULIA'S SWEAT.

Would ye oil of blossoms get? Take it from my Julia's sweat: Oil of lilies and of spike? From her moisture take the like. Let her breathe, or let her blow, All rich spices thence will flow.

_Spike_, lavender.

720. PROOF TO NO PURPOSE.

You see this gentle stream that glides, Shov'd on by quick-succeeding tides; Try if this sober stream you can Follow to th' wilder ocean; And see if there it keeps unspent In that congesting element. Next, from that world of waters, then By pores and caverns back again Induct that inadult'rate same Stream to the spring from whence it came. This with a wonder when ye do, As easy, and else easier too, Then may ye recollect the grains Of my particular remains, After a thousand lusters hurl'd By ruffling winds about the world.

721. FAME.

_'Tis still observ'd that fame ne'er sings The order, but the sum of things._

722. BY USE COMES EASINESS.

Oft bend the bow, and thou with ease shalt do What others can't with all their strength put to.

723. TO THE GENIUS OF HIS HOUSE.

Command the roof, great Genius, and from thence Into this house pour down thy influence, That through each room a golden pipe may run Of living water by thy benison. Fulfill the larders, and with strengthening bread Be evermore these bins replenished. Next, like a bishop consecrate my ground, That lucky fairies here may dance their round; And after that, lay down some silver pence The master's charge and care to recompense. Charm then the chambers, make the beds for ease, More than for peevish, pining sicknesses. Fix the foundation fast, and let the roof Grow old with time but yet keep weather-proof.

724. HIS GRANGE, OR PRIVATE WEALTH.

Though clock, To tell how night draws hence, I've none, A cock I have to sing how day draws on. I have A maid, my Prew, by good luck sent To save That little Fates me gave or lent. A hen I keep, which creeking day by day, Tells when She goes her long white egg to lay. A goose I have, which with a jealous ear Lets loose Her tongue to tell that danger's near. A lamb I keep, tame, with my morsels fed, Whose dam An orphan left him, lately dead. A cat I keep that plays about my house, Grown fat With eating many a miching mouse. To these A Tracy[A] I do keep whereby I please The more my rural privacy; Which are But toys to give my heart some ease; Where care None is, slight things do lightly please.

_My Prew_, Prudence Baldwin. _Creeking_, clucking. _Miching_, skulking.

[A] His spaniel. (Note in the original edition.)

725. GOOD PRECEPTS OR COUNSEL.

In all thy need be thou possess'd Still with a well-prepared breast; Nor let the shackles make thee sad; Thou canst but have what others had. And this for comfort thou must know Times that are ill won't still be so. Clouds will not ever pour down rain; _A sullen day will clear again_. First peals of thunder we must hear, Then lutes and harps shall stroke the ear.

726. MONEY MAKES THE MIRTH.

When all birds else do of their music fail, Money's the still sweet-singing nightingale.

727. UP TAILS ALL.

Begin with a kiss, Go on too with this; And thus, thus, thus let us smother Our lips for awhile, But let's not beguile Our hope of one for the other.

This play, be assur'd, Long enough has endur'd, Since more and more is exacted; For Love he doth call For his _uptails all_; And that's the part to be acted.

_Uptails all_, the refrain of a song beginning "Fly Merry News": see Note.

729. UPON LUCIA DABBLED IN THE DEW.

My Lucia in the dew did go, And prettily bedabbled so, Her clothes held up, she showed withal Her decent legs, clean, long, and small. I follow'd after to descry Part of the nak'd sincerity; But still the envious scene between Denied the mask I would have seen.

_Decent_, in the Latin sense, comely; _sincerity_, purity. _Scene_, a curtain or "drop-scene". _Mask_, a play.

730. CHARON AND PHILOMEL; A DIALOGUE SUNG.

_Ph._ Charon! O gentle Charon! let me woo thee By tears and pity now to come unto me. _Ch._ What voice so sweet and charming do I hear? Say what thou art. _Ph._ I prithee first draw near. _Ch._ A sound I hear, but nothing yet can see; Speak, where thou art. _Ph._ O Charon pity me! I am a bird, and though no name I tell, My warbling note will say I'm Philomel. _Ch._ What's that to me? I waft nor fish or fowls, Nor beasts, fond thing, but only human souls. _Ph._ Alas for me! _Ch._ Shame on thy witching note That made me thus hoist sail and bring my boat: But I'll return; what mischief brought thee hither? _Ph._ A deal of love and much, much grief together. _Ch._ What's thy request? _Ph._ That since she's now beneath Who fed my life, I'll follow her in death. _Ch._ And is that all? I'm gone. _Ph._ By love I pray thee. _Ch._ Talk not of love; all pray, but few souls pay me. _Ph._ I'll give thee vows and tears. _Ch._ Can tears pay scores For mending sails, for patching boat and oars? _Ph._ I'll beg a penny, or I'll sing so long Till thou shalt say I've paid thee with a song. _Ch._ Why then begin; and all the while we make Our slothful passage o'er the Stygian Lake, Thou and I'll sing to make these dull shades merry, Who else with tears would doubtless drown my ferry.

_Fond_, foolish. _She's now beneath_, her mother Zeuxippe?

733. A TERNARY OF LITTLES, UPON A PIPKIN OF JELLY SENT TO A LADY.

A little saint best fits a little shrine, A little prop best fits a little vine: As my small cruse best fits my little wine.

A little seed best fits a little soil, A little trade best fits a little toil: As my small jar best fits my little oil.

A little bin best fits a little bread, A little garland fits a little head: As my small stuff best fits my little shed.

A little hearth best fits a little fire, A little chapel fits a little choir: As my small bell best fits my little spire.

A little stream best fits a little boat, A little lead best fits a little float: As my small pipe best fits my little note.

A little meat best fits a little belly, As sweetly, lady, give me leave to tell ye, This little pipkin fits this little jelly.

734. UPON THE ROSES IN JULIA'S BOSOM.

Thrice happy roses, so much grac'd to have Within the bosom of my love your grave. Die when ye will, your sepulchre is known, Your grave her bosom is, the lawn the stone.

735. MAIDS' NAYS ARE NOTHING.

Maids' nays are nothing, they are shy But to desire what they deny.

736. THE SMELL OF THE SACRIFICE.

The gods require the thighs Of beeves for sacrifice; Which roasted, we the steam Must sacrifice to them, Who though they do not eat, Yet love the smell of meat.

737. LOVERS: HOW THEY COME AND PART.

A gyges' ring they bear about them still, To be, and not seen when and where they will. They tread on clouds, and though they sometimes fall, They fall like dew, but make no noise at all. So silently they one to th' other come, As colours steal into the pear or plum, And air-like, leave no pression to be seen Where'er they met or parting place has been.

_Gyges' ring_, which made the wearer invisible.

738. TO WOMEN, TO HIDE THEIR TEETH IF THEY BE ROTTEN OR RUSTY.

Close keep your lips, if that you mean To be accounted inside clean: For if you cleave them we shall see There in your teeth much leprosy.

739. IN PRAISE OF WOMEN.

O Jupiter, should I speak ill Of woman-kind, first die I will; Since that I know, 'mong all the rest Of creatures, woman is the best.

740. THE APRON OF FLOWERS.

To gather flowers Sappha went, And homeward she did bring Within her lawny continent The treasure of the spring.

She smiling blush'd, and blushing smil'd, And sweetly blushing thus, She look'd as she'd been got with child By young Favonius.

Her apron gave, as she did pass, An odour more divine, More pleasing, too, than ever was The lap of Proserpine.

_Continent_, anything that holds, here the bosom of her dress.

741. THE CANDOUR OF JULIA'S TEETH.

White as Zenobia's teeth, the which the girls Of Rome did wear for their most precious pearls.

_Zenobia_, Queen of Palmyra, conquered by the Romans, A.D. 273.

742. UPON HER WEEPING.

She wept upon her cheeks, and weeping so, She seem'd to quench love's fire that there did glow.

743. ANOTHER UPON HER WEEPING.

She by the river sat, and sitting there, She wept, and made it deeper by a tear.

744. DELAY.

Break off delay, since we but read of one That ever prospered by cunctation.

_Cunctation_, delay: the word is suggested by the name of Fabius Cunctator, the conqueror of the Carthaginians, addressed by Virg. (Æn. vi. 846) as "Unus qui nobis cunctando restituis rem".

745. TO SIR JOHN BERKLEY, GOVERNOR OF EXETER.

Stand forth, brave man, since fate has made thee here The Hector over aged Exeter, Who for a long, sad time has weeping stood Like a poor lady lost in widowhood, But fears not now to see her safety sold, As other towns and cities were, for gold By those ignoble births which shame the stem That gave progermination unto them: Whose restless ghosts shall hear their children sing, "Our sires betrayed their country and their king". True, if this city seven times rounded was With rock, and seven times circumflank'd with brass, Yet if thou wert not, Berkley, loyal proof, The senators, down tumbling with the roof, Would into prais'd, but pitied, ruins fall, Leaving no show where stood the capitol. But thou art just and itchless, and dost please Thy Genius with two strengthening buttresses, Faith and affection, which will never slip To weaken this thy great dictatorship.

_Progermination_, budding out. _Itchless_, _i.e._, with no itch for bribes.

746. TO ELECTRA. LOVE LOOKS FOR LOVE.

Love love begets, then never be Unsoft to him who's smooth to thee. Tigers and bears, I've heard some say, For proffer'd love will love repay: None are so harsh, but if they find Softness in others, will be kind; Affection will affection move, Then you must like because I love.

747. REGRESSION SPOILS RESOLUTION.

Hast thou attempted greatness? then go on: Back-turning slackens resolution.

748. CONTENTION.

Discreet and prudent we that discord call That either profits, or not hurts at all.

749. CONSULTATION.

Consult ere thou begin'st; that done, go on With all wise speed for execution.

_Consult_, take counsel. The word and the epigram are suggested by Sallust's "Nam et, prius quam incipias, consulto, et ubi consulueris, mature facto opus est," Cat. i.

750. LOVE DISLIKES NOTHING.

Whatsoever thing I see, Rich or poor although it be; 'Tis a mistress unto me.

Be my girl or fair or brown, Does she smile or does she frown, Still I write a sweetheart down.

Be she rough or smooth of skin; When I touch I then begin For to let affection in.

Be she bald, or does she wear Locks incurl'd of other hair, I shall find enchantment there.

Be she whole, or be she rent, So my fancy be content, She's to me most excellent.

Be she fat, or be she lean, Be she sluttish, be she clean, I'm a man for ev'ry scene.

751. OUR OWN SINS UNSEEN.

Other men's sins we ever bear in mind; _None sees the fardell of his faults behind_.

_Fardell_, bundle.

752. NO PAINS, NO GAINS.

If little labour, little are our gains: Man's fortunes are according to his pains.

754. VIRTUE BEST UNITED.

By so much, virtue is the less, By how much, near to singleness.

755. THE EYE.

A wanton and lascivious eye Betrays the heart's adultery.

756. TO PRINCE CHARLES UPON HIS COMING TO EXETER.

What fate decreed, time now has made us see, A renovation of the west by thee. That preternatural fever, which did threat Death to our country, now hath lost his heat, And, calms succeeding, we perceive no more Th' unequal pulse to beat, as heretofore. Something there yet remains for thee to do; Then reach those ends that thou wast destin'd to. Go on with Sylla's fortune; let thy fate Make thee like him, this, that way fortunate: Apollo's image side with thee to bless Thy war (discreetly made) with white success. Meantime thy prophets watch by watch shall pray, While young Charles fights, and fighting wins the day: That done, our smooth-paced poems all shall be Sung in the high doxology of thee. Then maids shall strew thee, and thy curls from them Receive with songs a flowery diadem.

_Sylla's fortune_, in allusion to Sylla's surname of _Felix_. _Doxology_, glorifying.

757. A SONG.

Burn, or drown me, choose ye whether, So I may but die together; Thus to slay me by degrees Is the height of cruelties. What needs twenty stabs, when one Strikes me dead as any stone? O show mercy then, and be Kind at once to murder me.

758. PRINCES AND FAVOURITES.

Princes and fav'rites are most dear, while they By giving and receiving hold the play; But the relation then of both grows poor, When these can ask, and kings can give no more.

759. EXAMPLES; OR, LIKE PRINCE, LIKE PEOPLE.

Examples lead us, and we likely see; Such as the prince is, will his people be.

760. POTENTATES.

Love and the Graces evermore do wait Upon the man that is a potentate.

761. THE WAKE.

Come, Anthea, let us two Go to feast, as others do. Tarts and custards, creams and cakes, Are the junkets still at wakes: Unto which the tribes resort, Where the business is the sport. Morris-dancers thou shall see, Marian, too, in pageantry, And a mimic to devise Many grinning properties. Players there will be, and those Base in action as in clothes; Yet with strutting they will please The incurious villages. Near the dying of the day There will be a cudgel-play, Where a coxcomb will be broke Ere a good word can be spoke: But the anger ends all here, Drenched in ale, or drown'd in beer. Happy rustics! best content With the cheapest merriment, And possess no other fear Than to want the wake next year.

_Marian_, Maid Marian of the Robin Hood ballads. _Action_, _i.e._, dramatic action. _Incurious_, careless, easily pleased. _Coxcomb_, to cause blood to flow from the opponent's head was the test of victory.

762. THE PETER-PENNY.

Fresh strewings allow To my sepulchre now, To make my lodging the sweeter; A staff or a wand Put then in my hand, With a penny to pay S. Peter.

Who has not a cross Must sit with the loss, And no whit further must venture; Since the porter he Will paid have his fee, Or else not one there must enter.

Who at a dead lift Can't send for a gift A pig to the priest for a roaster, Shall hear his clerk say, By yea and by nay, _No penny, no paternoster_.

_S. Peter_, as the gate-ward of heaven. _Cross_, a coin.

763. TO DOCTOR ALABASTER.

Nor art thou less esteem'd that I have plac'd, Amongst mine honour'd, thee almost the last: In great processions many lead the way To him who is the triumph of the day, As these have done to thee who art the one, One only glory of a million: In whom the spirit of the gods does dwell, Firing thy soul, by which thou dost foretell When this or that vast dynasty must fall Down to a fillet more imperial; When this or that horn shall be broke, and when Others shall spring up in their place again; When times and seasons and all years must lie Drowned in the sea of wild eternity; When the black doomsday books, as yet unseal'd, Shall by the mighty angel be reveal'd; And when the trumpet which thou late hast found Shall call to judgment. Tell us when the sound Of this or that great April day shall be, And next the Gospel we will credit thee. Meantime like earth-worms we will crawl below, And wonder at those things that thou dost know.

For an account of Alabaster see Notes: the allusions here are to his apocalyptic writings. _Horn_, used as a symbol of prosperity. _The trumpet which thou late hast found_, _i.e._, Alabaster's "Spiraculum Tubarum seu Fons Spiritualium Expositionum," published 1633. _April day_, day of weeping, or perhaps rather of "opening" or revelation.

764. UPON HIS KINSWOMAN, MRS. M. S.

Here lies a virgin, and as sweet As e'er was wrapt in winding sheet. Her name if next you would have known, The marble speaks it, Mary Stone: Who dying in her blooming years, This stone for name's sake melts to tears. If, fragrant virgins, you'll but keep A fast, while jets and marbles weep, And praying, strew some roses on her, You'll do my niece abundant honour.

765. FELICITY KNOWS NO FENCE.

Of both our fortunes good and bad we find Prosperity more searching of the mind: Felicity flies o'er the wall and fence, While misery keeps in with patience.

766. DEATH ENDS ALL WOE.

Time is the bound of things; where'er we go _Fate gives a meeting, Death's the end of woe_.

767. A CONJURATION TO ELECTRA.

By those soft tods of wool With which the air is full; By all those tinctures there, That paint the hemisphere; By dews and drizzling rain That swell the golden grain; By all those sweets that be I' th' flowery nunnery; By silent nights, and the Three forms of Hecate; By all aspects that bless The sober sorceress, While juice she strains, and pith To make her philters with; By time that hastens on Things to perfection; And by yourself, the best Conjurement of the rest: O my Electra! be In love with none, but me.

_Tods of wool_, literally, tod of wool=twenty-eight pounds, here used of the fleecy clouds. _Tinctures_, colours. _Three forms of Hecate_, the _Diva triformis_ of Hor. Od. iii. 22. Luna in heaven, Diana on earth, Persephone in the world below. _Aspects_, _i.e._, of the planets.

768. COURAGE COOLED.

I cannot love as I have lov'd before; For I'm grown old and, with mine age, grown poor. _Love must be fed by wealth_: this blood of mine Must needs wax cold, if wanting bread and wine.

769. THE SPELL.

Holy water come and bring; Cast in salt, for seasoning: Set the brush for sprinkling: Sacred spittle bring ye hither; Meal and it now mix together, And a little oil to either. Give the tapers here their light, Ring the saints'-bell, to affright Far from hence the evil sprite.

770. HIS WISH TO PRIVACY.

Give me a cell To dwell, Where no foot hath A path: There will I spend And end My wearied years In tears.

771. A GOOD HUSBAND.

A Master of a house, as I have read, Must be the first man up, and last in bed. With the sun rising he must walk his grounds; See this, view that, and all the other bounds: Shut every gate; mend every hedge that's torn, Either with old, or plant therein new thorn; Tread o'er his glebe, but with such care, that where He sets his foot, he leaves rich compost there.

772. A HYMN TO BACCHUS.

I sing thy praise, Iacchus, Who with thy thyrse dost thwack us: And yet thou so dost back us With boldness, that we fear No Brutus ent'ring here, Nor Cato the severe. What though the lictors threat us, We know they dare not beat us, So long as thou dost heat us. When we thy orgies sing, Each cobbler is a king, Nor dreads he any thing: And though he do not rave, Yet he'll the courage have To call my Lord Mayor knave; Besides, too, in a brave, Although he has no riches, But walks with dangling breeches And skirts that want their stitches, And shows his naked flitches, Yet he'll be thought or seen So good as George-a-Green; And calls his blouze, his queen; And speaks in language keen. O Bacchus! let us be From cares and troubles free; And thou shalt hear how we Will chant new hymns to thee.

_Orgies_, hymns to Bacchus. _Brave_, boast. _George-a-Green_, the legendary pinner of Wakefield, renowned for the use of the quarterstaff. _Blouze_, a fat wench.

773. UPON PUSS AND HER 'PRENTICE. EPIG.

Puss and her 'prentice both at drawgloves play; That done, they kiss, and so draw out the day: At night they draw to supper; then well fed, They draw their clothes off both, so draw to bed.

_Drawgloves_, the game of talking on the fingers.

774. BLAME THE REWARD OF PRINCES.

Among disasters that dissension brings, This not the least is, which belongs to kings: If wars go well, each for a part lays claim; If ill, then kings, not soldiers, bear the blame.

775. CLEMENCY IN KINGS.

Kings must not only cherish up the good, But must be niggards of the meanest blood.

776. ANGER.

Wrongs, if neglected, vanish in short time, But heard with anger, we confess the crime.

777. A PSALM OR HYMN TO THE GRACES.

Glory be to the Graces! That do in public places Drive thence whate'er encumbers The list'ning to my numbers.

Honour be to the Graces! Who do with sweet embraces, Show they are well contented With what I have invented.

Worship be to the Graces! Who do from sour faces, And lungs that would infect me, For evermore protect me.

778. A HYMN TO THE MUSES.

Honour to you who sit Near to the well of wit, And drink your fill of it.

Glory and worship be To you, sweet maids, thrice three, Who still inspire me,

And teach me how to sing Unto the lyric string My measures ravishing.

Then while I sing your praise, My priesthood crown with bays Green, to the end of days.

779. UPON JULIA'S CLOTHES.

Whenas in silks my Julia goes, Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows The liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see That brave vibration each way free; O how that glittering taketh me!

780. MODERATION.

In things a moderation keep: _Kings ought to shear, not skin their sheep_.

781. TO ANTHEA.

Let's call for Hymen, if agreed thou art; _Delays in love but crucify the heart_. Love's thorny tapers yet neglected lie: Speak thou the word, they'll kindle by-and-bye. The nimble hours woo us on to wed, And Genius waits to have us both to bed. Behold, for us the naked Graces stay With maunds of roses for to strew the way: Besides, the most religious prophet stands Ready to join, as well our hearts as hands. Juno yet smiles; but if she chance to chide, Ill luck 'twill bode to th' bridegroom and the bride. Tell me, Anthea, dost thou fondly dread The loss of that we call a maidenhead? Come, I'll instruct thee. Know, the vestal fire Is not by marriage quench'd, but flames the higher.

_Maunds_, baskets. _Fondly_, foolishly.

782. UPON PREW, HIS MAID.

In this little urn is laid Prudence Baldwin, once my maid: From whose happy spark here let Spring the purple violet.

783. THE INVITATION.

To sup with thee thou did'st me home invite; And mad'st a promise that mine appetite Should meet and tire on such lautitious meat, The like not Heliogabalus did eat: And richer wine would'st give to me, thy guest, Than Roman Sylla pour'd out at his feast. I came, 'tis true, and looked for fowl of price, The bastard phœnix, bird of paradise, And for no less than aromatic wine Of maiden's-blush, commix'd with jessamine. Clean was the hearth, the mantel larded jet; Which wanting Lar, and smoke, hung weeping wet; At last, i' th' noon of winter, did appear A ragg'd-soust-neat's-foot with sick vinegar: And in a burnished flagonet stood by, Beer small as comfort, dead as charity. At which amaz'd, and pondering on the food, How cold it was, and how it chill'd my blood; I curs'd the master, and I damn'd the souce, And swore I'd got the ague of the house. Well, when to eat thou dost me next desire, I'll bring a fever, since thou keep'st no fire.

_Tire_, feed on. _Lautitious_, sumptuous. _Maiden's-blush_, the pink-rose. _Larded jet_, _i.e._, blacked. _Soust_, pickled.

784. CEREMONIES FOR CHRISTMAS.

Come, bring with a noise, My merry, merry boys, The Christmas log to the firing; While my good dame, she Bids ye all be free, And drink to your hearts' desiring.

With the last year's brand Light the new block, and For good success in his spending On your psaltries play, That sweet luck may Come while the log is a-teending.

Drink now the strong beer, Cut the white loaf here; The while the meat is a-shredding For the rare mince-pie, And the plums stand by To fill the paste that's a-kneading.

_Psaltries_, a kind of guitar. _Teending_, kindling.

785. CHRISTMAS-EVE, ANOTHER CEREMONY.

Come guard this night the Christmas-pie, That the thief, though ne'er so sly, With his flesh-hooks, don't come nigh To catch it From him, who all alone sits there, Having his eyes still in his ear, And a deal of nightly fear, To watch it.

786. ANOTHER TO THE MAIDS.

Wash your hands, or else the fire Will not teend to your desire; Unwash'd hands, ye maidens, know, Dead the fire, though ye blow.

_Teend_, kindle.

787. ANOTHER.

Wassail the trees, that they may bear You many a plum and many a pear: For more or less fruits they will bring, As you do give them wassailing.

788. POWER AND PEACE.

_'Tis never, or but seldom known, Power and peace to keep one throne._

789. TO HIS DEAR VALENTINE, MISTRESS MARGARET FALCONBRIDGE.

Now is your turn, my dearest, to be set A gem in this eternal coronet: 'Twas rich before, but since your name is down It sparkles now like Ariadne's crown. Blaze by this sphere for ever: or this do, Let me and it shine evermore by you.

790. TO OENONE.

Sweet Oenone, do but say Love thou dost, though love says nay. Speak me fair; for lovers be Gently kill'd by flattery.

791. VERSES.

Who will not honour noble numbers, when Verses out-live the bravest deeds of men?

792. HAPPINESS.

That happiness does still the longest thrive, Where joys and griefs have turns alternative.

793. THINGS OF CHOICE LONG A-COMING.

We pray 'gainst war, yet we enjoy no peace; _Desire deferr'd is that it may increase_.

794. POETRY PERPETUATES THE POET.

Here I myself might likewise die, And utterly forgotten lie, But that eternal poetry Repullulation gives me here Unto the thirtieth thousand year, When all now dead shall reappear.

_Repullulation_, rejuvenescence. _Thirtieth thousand year_, an allusion to the doctrine of the Platonic year.

797. KISSES.

Give me the food that satisfies a guest: Kisses are but dry banquets to a feast.

798. ORPHEUS.

Orpheus he went, as poets tell, To fetch Eurydice from hell; And had her; but it was upon This short but strict condition: Backward he should not look while he Led her through hell's obscurity: But ah! it happened, as he made His passage through that dreadful shade, Revolve he did his loving eye, For gentle fear or jealousy; And looking back, that look did sever Him and Eurydice for ever.

803. TO SAPPHO.

Sappho, I will choose to go Where the northern winds do blow Endless ice and endless snow: Rather than I once would see But a winter's face in thee, To benumb my hopes and me.

804. TO HIS FAITHFUL FRIEND, M. JOHN CROFTS, CUP-BEARER TO THE KING.

For all thy many courtesies to me, Nothing I have, my Crofts, to send to thee For the requital, save this only one Half of my just remuneration. For since I've travell'd all this realm throughout To seek and find some few immortals out To circumspangle this my spacious sphere, As lamps for everlasting shining here; And having fix'd thee in mine orb a star, Amongst the rest, both bright and singular, The present age will tell the world thou art, If not to th' whole, yet satisfi'd in part. As for the rest, being too great a sum Here to be paid, I'll pay't i' th' world to come.

805. THE BRIDE-CAKE.

This day, my Julia, thou must make For Mistress Bride the wedding-cake: Knead but the dough, and it will be To paste of almonds turn'd by thee: Or kiss it thou but once or twice, And for the bride-cake there'll be spice.

806. TO BE MERRY.

Let's now take our time While w'are in our prime, And old, old age is afar off: For the evil, evil days Will come on apace, Before we can be aware of.

807. BURIAL.

Man may want land to live in; but for all Nature finds out some place for burial.

808. LENITY.

'Tis the Chirurgeon's praise, and height of art, Not to cut off, but cure the vicious part.

809. PENITENCE.

Who after his transgression doth repent, Is half, or altogether innocent.

810. GRIEF.

Consider sorrows, how they are aright: _Grief, if't be great, 'tis short; if long, 'tis light_.

811. THE MAIDEN-BLUSH.

So look the mornings when the sun Paints them with fresh vermilion: So cherries blush, and Kathern pears, And apricots in youthful years: So corals look more lovely red, And rubies lately polished: So purest diaper doth shine, Stain'd by the beams of claret wine: As Julia looks when she doth dress Her either cheek with bashfulness.

_Kathern pears_, _i.e._, Catharine pears.

812. THE MEAN.

_Imparity doth ever discord bring; The mean the music makes in everything._

813. HASTE HURTFUL.

_Haste is unhappy; what we rashly do Is both unlucky, aye, and foolish, too. Where war with rashness is attempted, there The soldiers leave the field with equal fear._

814. PURGATORY.

Readers, we entreat ye pray For the soul of Lucia; That in little time she be From her purgatory free: In the interim she desires That your tears may cool her fires.

815. THE CLOUD.

Seest thou that cloud that rides in state, Part ruby-like, part candidate? It is no other than the bed Where Venus sleeps half-smothered.

_Candidate_, robed in white.

817. THE AMBER BEAD.

I saw a fly within a bead Of amber cleanly buried; The urn was little, but the room More rich than Cleopatra's tomb.

818. TO MY DEAREST SISTER, M. MERCY HERRICK.

Whene'er I go, or whatsoe'er befalls Me in mine age, or foreign funerals, This blessing I will leave thee, ere I go: Prosper thy basket and therein thy dough. Feed on the paste of filberts, or else knead And bake the flour of amber for thy bread. Balm may thy trees drop, and thy springs run oil, And everlasting harvest crown thy soil! These I but wish for; but thyself shall see The blessing fall in mellow times on thee.

819. THE TRANSFIGURATION.

Immortal clothing I put on So soon as, Julia, I am gone To mine eternal mansion. Thou, thou art here, to human sight Cloth'd all with incorrupted light; But yet how more admir'dly bright Wilt thou appear, when thou art set In thy refulgent thronelet, That shin'st thus in thy counterfeit!

820. SUFFER THAT THOU CANST NOT SHIFT.

Does fortune rend thee? Bear with thy hard fate: _Virtuous instructions ne'er are delicate_. Say, does she frown? still countermand her threats: _Virtue best loves those children that she beats_.

821. TO THE PASSENGER.

If I lie unburied, sir, These my relics pray inter: 'Tis religion's part to see Stones or turfs to cover me. One word more I had to say: But it skills not; go your way; He that wants a burial room _For a stone, has Heaven his tomb_.

_Religion's_, orig. ed. _religious_.

823. 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 does rest _Ensphered with palm on your triumphant crest_. Fortune is now your captive; other Kings _Hold but her hands; you hold both hands and wings_.

824. TO JULIA, IN HER DAWN, OR DAYBREAK.

By the next kindling of the day, My Julia, thou shalt see, Ere Ave-Mary thou canst say I'll come and visit thee.

Yet ere thou counsel'st with thy glass, Appear thou to mine eyes As smooth, and nak'd, as she that was The prime of paradise.

If blush thou must, then blush thou through A lawn, that thou mayst look As purest pearls, or pebbles do When peeping through a brook.

As lilies shrin'd in crystal, so Do thou to me appear; Or damask roses when they grow To sweet acquaintance there.

825. COUNSEL.

'Twas Cæsar's saying: _Kings no less conquerors are By their wise counsel, than they be by war._

826. BAD PRINCES PILL THE PEOPLE.

Like those infernal deities which eat The best of all the sacrificed meat; And leave their servants but the smoke and sweat: So many kings, and primates too there are, Who claim the fat and fleshy for their share And leave their subjects but the starved ware.

827. MOST WORDS, LESS WORKS.

In desp'rate cases all, or most, are known Commanders, few for execution.

828. TO DIANEME.

I could but see thee yesterday Stung by a fretful bee; And I the javelin suck'd away, And heal'd the wound in thee.

A thousand thorns and briars and stings, I have in my poor breast; Yet ne'er can see that salve which brings My passions any rest.

As love shall help me, I admire How thou canst sit, and smile To see me bleed, and not desire To staunch the blood the while.

If thou, compos'd of gentle mould, Art so unkind to me; What dismal stories will be told Of those that cruel be?

_Admire_, wonder.

830. HIS LOSS.

All has been plundered from me but my wit: Fortune herself can lay no claim to it.

831. DRAW AND DRINK.

Milk still your fountains and your springs: for why? The more th'are drawn, the less they will grow dry.

833. TO OENONE.

Thou say'st Love's dart Hath pricked thy heart; And thou dost languish too: If one poor prick Can make thee sick, Say, what would many do?

836. TO ELECTRA.

Shall I go to Love and tell, Thou art all turned icicle? Shall I say her altars be Disadorn'd and scorn'd by thee? O beware! in time submit; Love has yet no wrathful fit: If her patience turns to ire, Love is then consuming fire.

837. TO MISTRESS AMY POTTER.

Ay me! I love; give him your hand to kiss Who both your wooer and your poet is. Nature has precompos'd us both to love: Your part's to grant; my scene must be to move. Dear, can you like, and liking love your poet? If you say "Aye," blush-guiltiness will show it. Mine eyes must woo you, though I sigh the while: _True love is tongueless as a crocodile_. And you may find in love these different parts-- _Wooers have tongues of ice, but burning hearts_.

838. UPON A MAID.

Here she lies, in bed of spice, Fair as Eve in Paradise: For her beauty it was such Poets could not praise too much. Virgins, come, and in a ring Her supremest requiem sing; Then depart, but see ye tread Lightly, lightly, o'er the dead.

_Supremest_, last.

839. UPON LOVE.

Love is a circle, and an endless sphere; From good to good, revolving here and there.

840. BEAUTY.

Beauty's no other but a lovely grace Of lively colours flowing from the face.

841. UPON LOVE.

Some salve to every sore we may apply; Only for my wound there's no remedy. Yet if my Julia kiss me, there will be A sovereign balm found out to cure me.

844. TO HIS BOOK.

Make haste away, and let one be A friendly patron unto thee: Lest, rapt from hence, I see thee lie Torn for the use of pastery: Or see thy injur'd leaves serve well, To make loose gowns for mackerel: Or see the grocers in a trice, Make hoods of thee to serve out spice.

845. READINESS.

The readiness of doing doth express No other but the doer's willingness.

846. WRITING.

When words we want, Love teacheth to indite; And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.

847. SOCIETY.

Two things do make society to stand: The first commerce is, and the next command.

848. 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 keep, till her return, Here, her ashes, or her urn.

849. SATISFACTION FOR SUFFERINGS.

For all our works a recompense is sure: _'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t' endure_.

850. THE DELAYING BRIDE.

Why so slowly do you move To the centre of your love? On your niceness though we wait, Yet the hours say 'tis late: _Coyness takes us, to a measure; But o'eracted deads the pleasure._ Go to bed, and care not when Cheerful day shall spring again. One brave captain did command, By his word, the sun to stand: One short charm, if you but say, Will enforce the moon to stay, Till you warn her hence, away, T' have your blushes seen by day.

_Niceness_, delicacy.

851. TO M. HENRY LAWES, THE EXCELLENT COMPOSER OF HIS LYRICS.

Touch but thy lyre, my Harry, and I hear From thee some raptures of the rare Gotiere; Then if thy voice commingle with the string, I hear in thee rare Laniere to sing; Or curious Wilson: tell me, canst thou be Less than Apollo, that usurp'st such three? Three, unto whom the whole world give applause; Yet their three praises praise but one; that's Lawes.

_Gotiere_, Wilson, see above, 111. _Laniere_, Nicholas Laniere (1590?-1670?), musician and painter, appointed Master of the King's Music in 1626.

852. AGE UNFIT FOR LOVE.

Maidens tell me I am old; Let me in my glass behold Whether smooth or not I be, Or if hair remains to me. Well, or be't or be't not so, This for certainty I know, Ill it fits old men to play, When that Death bids come away.

853. THE BEDMAN, OR GRAVEMAKER.

Thou hast made many houses for the dead; When my lot calls me to be buried, For love or pity, prithee let there be I' th' churchyard made one tenement for me.

854. TO ANTHEA.

Anthea, I am going hence With some small stock of innocence: But yet those blessed gates I see Withstanding entrance unto me. To pray for me do thou begin, The porter then will let me in.

855. NEED.

Who begs to die for fear of human need, Wisheth his body, not his soul, good speed.

856. TO JULIA.

I am zealless; prithee pray For my welfare, Julia, For I think the gods require Male perfumes, but female fire.

_Male perfumes_, perfumes of the best kind.

857. ON JULIA'S LIPS.

Sweet are my Julia's lips and clean, As if o'erwashed in Hippocrene.

858. TWILIGHT.

Twilight no other thing is, poets say, Than the last part of night and first of day.

859. TO HIS FRIEND, MR. J. JINCKS.

Love, love me now, because I place Thee here among my righteous race: The bastard slips may droop and die Wanting both root and earth; but thy Immortal self shall boldly trust To live for ever with my Just.

_With my Just_, cp. 664.

860. ON HIMSELF.

If that my fate has now fulfill'd my year, And so soon stopt my longer living here; What was't, ye gods, a dying man to save, But while he met with his paternal grave! Though while we living 'bout the world do roam, We love to rest in peaceful urns at home, Where we may snug, and close together lie By the dead bones of our dear ancestry.

861. KINGS AND TYRANTS.

'Twixt kings and tyrants there's this difference known: _Kings seek their subjects' good, tyrants their own_.

862. CROSSES.

Our crosses are no other than the rods, And our diseases, vultures of the gods: Each grief we feel, that likewise is a kite Sent forth by them, our flesh to eat, or bite.

863. UPON LOVE.

Love brought me to a silent grove And show'd me there a tree, Where some had hang'd themselves for love, And gave a twist to me.

The halter was of silk and gold, That he reach'd forth unto me; No otherwise than if he would By dainty things undo me.

He bade me then that necklace use; And told me, too, he maketh A glorious end by such a noose, His death for love that taketh.

'Twas but a dream; but had I been There really alone, My desp'rate fears in love had seen Mine execution.

864. NO DIFFERENCE I' TH' DARK.

Night makes no difference 'twixt the priest and clerk; Joan as my lady is as good i' th' dark.

865. THE BODY.

The body is the soul's poor house or home, Whose ribs the laths are, and whose flesh the loam.

866. TO SAPPHO.

Thou say'st thou lov'st me, Sappho; I say no; But would to Love I could believe 'twas so! Pardon my fears, sweet Sappho; I desire That thou be righteous found, and I the liar.

867. OUT OF TIME, OUT OF TUNE.

We blame, nay, we despise her pains That wets her garden when it rains: But when the drought has dried the knot, Then let her use the wat'ring-pot. We pray for showers, at our need, To drench, but not to drown our seed.

_Knot_, quaintly shaped flower-bed.

868. TO HIS BOOK.

Take mine advice, and go not near Those faces, sour as vinegar. For these, and nobler numbers can Ne'er please the supercilious man.

869. TO HIS HONOURED FRIEND, SIR THOMAS HEALE.

Stand by the magic of my powerful rhymes 'Gainst all the indignation of the times. Age shall not wrong thee; or one jot abate Of thy both great and everlasting fate. While others perish, here's thy life decreed, Because begot of my immortal seed.

870. THE SACRIFICE, BY WAY OF DISCOURSE BETWIXT HIMSELF AND JULIA.

_Herr._ Come and let's in solemn wise Both address to sacrifice: Old religion first commands That we wash our hearts, and hands. Is the beast exempt from stain, Altar clean, no fire profane? Are the garlands, is the nard Ready here?

_Jul._ All well prepar'd, With the wine that must be shed, 'Twixt the horns, upon the head Of the holy beast we bring For our trespass-offering.

_Herr._ All is well; now next to these Put we on pure surplices; And with chaplets crown'd, we'll roast With perfumes the holocaust: And, while we the gods invoke, Read acceptance by the smoke.

871. TO APOLLO.

Thou mighty lord and master of the lyre, Unshorn Apollo, come and re-inspire My fingers so, the lyric-strings to move, That I may play and sing a hymn to Love.

872. ON LOVE.

Love is a kind of war: hence those who fear! No cowards must his royal ensigns bear.

873. ANOTHER.

Where love begins, there dead thy first desire: _A spark neglected makes a mighty fire_.

874. A HYMN TO CUPID.

Thou, thou that bear'st the sway, With whom the sea-nymphs play; And Venus, every way: When I embrace thy knee, And make short pray'rs to thee, In love then prosper me. This day I go to woo; Instruct me how to do This work thou put'st me to. From shame my face keep free; From scorn I beg of thee, Love, to deliver me: So shall I sing thy praise, And to thee altars raise, Unto the end of days.

875. TO ELECTRA.

Let not thy tombstone e'er be laid by me: Nor let my hearse be wept upon by thee: But let that instant when thou diest be known The minute of mine expiration. One knell be rung for both; and let one grave To hold us two an endless honour have.

876. HOW HIS SOUL CAME ENSNARED.

My soul would one day go and seek For roses, and in Julia's cheek A richesse of those sweets she found, As in another Rosamond. But gathering roses as she was, Not knowing what would come to pass, It chanc'd a ringlet of her hair Caught my poor soul, as in a snare: Which ever since has been in thrall; Yet freedom she enjoys withal.

_Richesse_, wealth.

877. FACTIONS.

The factions of the great ones call, To side with them, the commons all.

881. UPON JULIA'S HAIR BUNDLED UP IN A GOLDEN NET.

Tell me, what needs those rich deceits, These golden toils, and trammel nets, To take thine hairs when they are known Already tame, and all thine own? 'Tis I am wild, and more than hairs Deserve these meshes and those snares. Set free thy tresses, let them flow As airs do breathe or winds do blow: And let such curious net-works be Less set for them than spread for me.

883. THE SHOWER OF BLOSSOMS.

Love in a shower of blossoms came Down, and half drown'd me with the same: The blooms that fell were white and red; But with such sweets comminglèd, As whether--this I cannot tell-- My sight was pleas'd more, or my smell: But true it was, as I roll'd there, Without a thought of hurt or fear, Love turn'd himself into a bee, And with his javelin wounded me: From which mishap this use I make, _Where most sweets are, there lies a snake: Kisses and favours are sweet things; But those have thorns and these have stings._

885. A DEFENCE FOR WOMEN.

Naught are all women: I say no, Since for one bad, one good I know: For Clytemnestra most unkind, Loving Alcestis there we find: For one Medea that was bad, A good Penelope was had: For wanton Lais, then we have Chaste Lucrece, a wife as grave: And thus through womankind we see A good and bad. Sirs, credit me.

887. SLAVERY.

'Tis liberty to serve one lord; but he Who many serves, serves base servility.

888. CHARMS.

Bring the holy crust of bread, Lay it underneath the head; 'Tis a certain charm to keep Hags away, while children sleep.

889. ANOTHER.

Let the superstitious wife Near the child's heart lay a knife: Point be up, and haft be down (While she gossips in the town); This, 'mongst other mystic charms, Keeps the sleeping child from harms.

890. ANOTHER TO BRING IN THE WITCH.

To house the hag, you must do this: Commix with meal a little piss Of him bewitch'd; then forthwith make A little wafer or a cake; And this rawly bak'd will bring The old hag in. No surer thing.

891. ANOTHER CHARM FOR STABLES.

Hang up hooks and shears to scare Hence the hag that rides the mare, Till they be all over wet With the mire and the sweat: This observ'd, the manes shall be Of your horses all knot-free.

892. CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMAS EVE.

Down with the rosemary and bays, Down with the mistletoe; Instead of holly, now up-raise The greener box, for show.

The holly hitherto did sway; Let box now domineer Until the dancing Easter day, Or Easter's eve appear.

Then youthful box which now hath grace Your houses to renew; Grown old, surrender must his place Unto the crisped yew.

When yew is out, then birch comes in, And many flowers beside; Both of a fresh and fragrant kin To honour Whitsuntide.

Green rushes, then, and sweetest bents, With cooler oaken boughs, Come in for comely ornaments To re-adorn the house. Thus times do shift; each thing his turn does hold: _New things succeed, as former things grow old_.

_Bents_, grasses.

893. THE CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMAS DAY.

Kindle the Christmas brand, and then Till sunset let it burn; Which quench'd, then lay it up again Till Christmas next return. Part must be kept wherewith to teend The Christmas log next year, And where 'tis safely kept, the fiend Can do no mischief there.

894. UPON CANDLEMAS DAY.

End now the white loaf and the pie, And let all sports with Christmas die.

_Teend_, kindle.

897. TO BIANCA, TO BLESS HIM.

Would I woo, and would I win? Would I well my work begin? Would I evermore be crowned With the end that I propound? Would I frustrate or prevent All aspects malevolent? Thwart all wizards, and with these Dead all black contingencies: Place my words and all works else In most happy parallels? All will prosper, if so be I be kiss'd or bless'd by thee.

898. JULIA'S CHURCHING, OR PURIFICATION.

Put on thy holy filletings, and so To th' temple with the sober midwife go. Attended thus, in a most solemn wise, By those who serve the child-bed mysteries, Burn first thine incense; next, whenas thou see'st The candid stole thrown o'er the pious priest, With reverend curtsies come, and to him bring Thy free (and not decurted) offering. All rites well ended, with fair auspice come (As to the breaking of a bride-cake) home, Where ceremonious Hymen shall for thee Provide a second epithalamy. _She who keeps chastely to her husband's side Is not for one, but every night his bride; And stealing still with love and fear to bed, Brings him not one, but many a maidenhead._

_Candid_, white. _Decurted_, curtailed.

899. TO HIS BOOK.

Before the press scarce one could see A little-peeping-part of thee; But since thou'rt printed, thou dost call To show thy nakedness to all. My care for thee is now the less, Having resign'd thy shamefac'dness. Go with thy faults and fates; yet stay And take this sentence, then away: Whom one belov'd will not suffice, She'll run to all adulteries.

900. TEARS.

Tears most prevail; with tears, too, thou may'st move Rocks to relent, and coyest maids to love.

901. TO HIS FRIEND TO AVOID CONTENTION OF WORDS.

Words beget anger; anger brings forth blows; Blows make of dearest friends immortal foes. For which prevention, sociate, let there be Betwixt us two no more logomachy. Far better 'twere for either to be mute, Than for to murder friendship by dispute.

_Logomachy_, contention of words.

902. TRUTH.

Truth is best found out by the time and eyes; _Falsehood wins credit by uncertainties_.

904. THE EYES BEFORE THE EARS.

We credit most our sight; one eye doth please Our trust far more than ten ear-witnesses.

905. WANT.

Want is a softer wax, that takes thereon This, that, and every base impression.

906. TO A FRIEND.

Look in my book, and herein see Life endless signed to thee and me. We o'er the tombs and fates shall fly; While other generations die.

907. UPON M. WILLIAM LAWES, THE RARE MUSICIAN.

Should I not put on blacks, when each one here Comes with his cypress and devotes a tear? Should I not grieve, my Lawes, when every lute, Viol, and voice is by thy loss struck mute? Thy loss, brave man! whose numbers have been hurl'd, And no less prais'd than spread throughout the world. Some have thee call'd Amphion; some of us Nam'd thee Terpander, or sweet Orpheus: Some this, some that, but all in this agree, Music had both her birth and death with thee.

_Blacks_, mourning garments.

908. A SONG UPON SILVIA.

From me my Silvia ran away, And running therewithal A primrose bank did cross her way, And gave my love a fall.

But trust me now, I dare not say What I by chance did see; But such the drap'ry did betray That fully ravished me.

909. THE HONEYCOMB.

If thou hast found an honeycomb, Eat thou not all, but taste on some: For if thou eat'st it to excess, That sweetness turns to loathsomeness. Taste it to temper, then 'twill be Marrow and manna unto thee.

910. UPON BEN JONSON.

Here lies Jonson with the rest Of the poets: but the best. Reader, would'st thou more have known? Ask his story, not this stone. That will speak what this can't tell Of his glory. So farewell.

911. AN ODE FOR HIM.

Ah Ben! Say how, or when Shall we thy guests Meet at those lyric feasts Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun? Where we such clusters had, As made us nobly wild, not mad; And yet each verse of thine Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.

My Ben! Or come again, Or send to us Thy wit's great overplus; But teach us yet Wisely to husband it, Lest we that talent spend: And having once brought to an end That precious stock; the store Of such a wit the world should have no more.

_The Sun_, _etc._, famous taverns.

912. UPON A VIRGIN.

Spend, harmless shade, thy nightly hours Selecting here both herbs and flowers; Of which make garlands here and there To dress thy silent sepulchre. Nor do thou fear the want of these _In everlasting properties_, Since we fresh strewings will bring hither, Far faster than the first can wither.

913. BLAME.

In battles what disasters fall, The king he bears the blame of all.

914. A REQUEST TO THE GRACES.

Ponder my words, if so that any be Known guilty here of incivility: Let what is graceless, discompos'd, and rude, With sweetness, smoothness, softness, be endu'd. Teach it to blush, to curtsy, lisp, and show Demure, but yet full of temptation, too. _Numbers ne'er tickle, or but lightly please, Unless they have some wanton carriages._ This if ye do, each piece will here be good, And graceful made by your neat sisterhood.

915. UPON HIMSELF.

I lately fri'd, but now behold I freeze as fast, and shake for cold. And in good faith I'd thought it strange T' have found in me this sudden change; But that I understood by dreams These only were but Love's extremes; Who fires with hope the lover's heart, And starves with cold the self-same part.

916. MULTITUDE.

We trust not to the multitude in war, But to the stout, and those that skilful are.

917. FEAR.

Man must do well out of a good intent; Not for the servile fear of punishment.

918. TO M. KELLAM.

What! can my Kellam drink his sack In goblets to the brim, And see his Robin Herrick lack, Yet send no bowls to him?

For love or pity to his muse, That she may flow in verse, Contemn to recommend a cruse, But send to her a tierce.

919. HAPPINESS TO HOSPITALITY; OR, A HEARTY WISH TO GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.

First, may the hand of bounty bring Into the daily offering Of full provision such a store, Till that the cook cries: Bring no more. Upon your hogsheads never fall A drought of wine, ale, beer, at all; But, like full clouds, may they from thence Diffuse their mighty influence. Next, let the lord and lady here Enjoy a Christ'ning year by year; And this good blessing back them still, T' have boys, and girls too, as they will. Then from the porch may many a bride Unto the holy temple ride: And thence return, short prayers said, A wife most richly married. Last, may the bride and bridegroom be Untouch'd by cold sterility; But in their springing blood so play, As that in lusters few they may, By laughing too, and lying down, People a city or a town.

_Wish_, om. orig. ed. _Lusters_, quinquenniums.

920. CUNCTATION IN CORRECTION.

The lictors bundled up their rods; beside, Knit them with knots with much ado unti'd, That if, unknitting, men would yet repent, They might escape the lash of punishment.

921. PRESENT GOVERNMENT GRIEVOUS.

_Men are suspicious, prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present government._

922. REST REFRESHES.

Lay by the good a while; a resting field Will, after ease, a richer harvest yield; Trees this year bear: next, they their wealth withhold: _Continual reaping makes a land wax old_.

923. REVENGE.

_Man's disposition is for to requite An injury, before a benefit: Thanksgiving is a burden and a pain; Revenge is pleasing to us, as our gain._

924. THE FIRST MARS OR MAKES.

In all our high designments 'twill appear, _The first event breeds confidence or fear_.

925. BEGINNING DIFFICULT.

_Hard are the two first stairs unto a crown: Which got, the third bids him a king come down._

926. FAITH FOUR-SQUARE.

Faith is a thing that's four-square; let it fall This way or that, it not declines at all.

927. THE PRESENT TIME BEST PLEASETH.

Praise they that will times past; I joy to see Myself now live: _this age best pleaseth me_.

928. CLOTHES ARE CONSPIRATORS.

Though from without no foes at all we fear, We shall be wounded by the clothes we wear.

929. CRUELTY.

_'Tis but a dog-like madness in bad kings, For to delight in wounds and murderings: As some plants prosper best by cuts and blows, So kings by killing do increase their foes._

930. FAIR AFTER FOUL.

_Tears quickly dry, griefs will in time decay: A clear will come after a cloudy day._

931. HUNGER.

Ask me what hunger is, and I'll reply, 'Tis but a fierce desire of hot and dry.

932. BAD WAGES FOR GOOD SERVICE.

In this misfortune kings do most excel, To hear the worst from men when they do well.

933. THE END.

Conquer we shall, but we must first contend; _'Tis not the fight that crowns us, but the end_.

934. THE BONDMAN.

Bind me but to thee with thine hair, And quickly I shall be Made by that fetter or that snare A bondman unto thee. Or if thou tak'st that bond away, Then bore me through the ear, And by the law I ought to stay For ever with thee here.

935. CHOOSE FOR THE BEST.

Give house-room to the best; _'tis never known Virtue and pleasure both to dwell in one_.

936. TO SILVIA.

Pardon my trespass, Silvia; I confess My kiss out-went the bounds of shamefastness: None is discreet at all times; no, _not Jove Himself, at one time, can be wise and love_.

937. FAIR SHOWS DECEIVE.

Smooth was the sea, and seem'd to call Two pretty girls to play withal: Who paddling there, the sea soon frown'd, And on a sudden both were drown'd. What credit can we give to seas, Who, kissing, kill such saints as these?

938. HIS WISH.

Fat be my hind; unlearned be my wife; Peaceful my night; my day devoid of strife: To these a comely offspring I desire, Singing about my everlasting fire.

_Hind_, country servant.

939. UPON JULIA WASHING HERSELF IN THE RIVER.

How fierce was I, when I did see My Julia wash herself in thee! So lilies thorough crystal look: So purest pebbles in the brook: As in the river Julia did, Half with a lawn of water hid. Into thy streams myself I threw, And struggling there, I kiss'd thee too; And more had done, it is confess'd, Had not thy waves forbade the rest.

940. A MEAN IN OUR MEANS.

Though frankincense the deities require, _We must not give all to the hallowed fire_. Such be our gifts, and such be our expense, As for ourselves to leave some frankincense.

941. UPON CLUNN.

A roll of parchment Clunn about him bears, Charg'd with the arms of all his ancestors: And seems half ravish'd, when he looks upon That bar, this bend; that fess, this cheveron; This manch, that moon; this martlet, and that mound; This counterchange of pearl and diamond. What joy can Clunn have in that coat, or this, Whenas his own still out at elbows is?

942. UPON CUPID.

Love, like a beggar, came to me With hose and doublet torn: His shirt bedangling from his knee, With hat and shoes outworn.

He ask'd an alms; I gave him bread, And meat too, for his need: Of which, when he had fully fed, He wished me all good speed.

Away he went, but as he turn'd (In faith I know not how) He touch'd me so, as that I burn['d], And am tormented now.

Love's silent flames and fires obscure Then crept into my heart; And though I saw no bow, I'm sure His finger was the dart.

946. AN HYMN TO LOVE.

I will confess With cheerfulness, Love is a thing so likes me, That let her lay On me all day, I'll kiss the hand that strikes me.

I will not, I, Now blubb'ring, cry, It, ah! too late repents me, That I did fall To love at all, Since love so much contents me.

No, no, I'll be In fetters free: While others they sit wringing Their hands for pain, I'll entertain The wounds of love with singing.

With flowers and wine, And cakes divine, To strike me I will tempt thee: Which done; no more I'll come before Thee and thine altars empty.

947. TO HIS HONOURED AND MOST INGENIOUS FRIEND, MR. CHARLES COTTON.

For brave comportment, wit without offence, Words fully flowing, yet of influence: Thou art that man of men, the man alone, Worthy the public admiration: Who with thine own eyes read'st what we do write, And giv'st our numbers euphony and weight; Tell'st when a verse springs high, how understood To be, or not, born of the royal blood. What state above, what symmetry below, Lines have, or should have, thou the best can'st show. For which, my Charles, it is my pride to be Not so much known, as to be lov'd of thee. Long may I live so, and my wreath of bays Be less another's laurel than thy praise.

948. WOMEN USELESS.

What need we marry women, when Without their use we may have men, And such as will in short time be For murder fit, or mutiny? As Cadmus once a new way found, By throwing teeth into the ground; From which poor seed, and rudely sown, Sprung up a war-like nation: So let us iron, silver, gold, Brass, lead, or tin throw into th' mould; And we shall see in little space Rise up of men a fighting race. If this can be, say then, what need Have we of women or their seed?

949. LOVE IS A SYRUP.

Love is a syrup; and whoe'er we see Sick and surcharg'd with this satiety, Shall by this pleasing trespass quickly prove _There's loathsomeness e'en in the sweets of love_.

950. LEAVEN.

Love is a leaven; and a loving kiss The leaven of a loving sweetheart is.

951. REPLETION.

Physicians say repletion springs More from the sweet than sour things.

952. ON HIMSELF.

Weep for the dead, for they have lost this light: And weep for me, lost in an endless night. Or mourn, or make a marble verse for me, Who writ for many. Benedicite.

953. NO MAN WITHOUT MONEY.

No man such rare parts hath that he can swim, If favour or occasion help not him.

954. ON HIMSELF.

Lost to the world; lost to myself; alone Here now I rest under this marble stone: In depth of silence, heard and seen of none.

955. TO M. LEONARD WILLAN, HIS PECULIAR FRIEND.

I will be short, and having quickly hurl'd This line about, live thou throughout the world; Who art a man for all scenes; unto whom, What's hard to others, nothing's troublesome. Can'st write the comic, tragic strain, and fall From these to pen the pleasing pastoral: Who fli'st at all heights: prose and verse run'st through; Find'st here a fault, and mend'st the trespass too: For which I might extol thee, but speak less, Because thyself art coming to the press: And then should I in praising thee be slow, Posterity will pay thee what I owe.

956. TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND, M. JOHN HALL, STUDENT OF GRAY'S INN.

Tell me, young man, or did the Muses bring Thee less to taste than to drink up their spring, That none hereafter should be thought, or be A poet, or a poet-like but thee? What was thy birth, thy star that makes thee known, At twice ten years, a prime and public one? Tell us thy nation, kindred, or the whence Thou had'st and hast thy mighty influence, That makes thee lov'd, and of the men desir'd, And no less prais'd than of the maids admired. Put on thy laurel then; and in that trim Be thou Apollo or the type of him: Or let the unshorn god lend thee his lyre, And next to him be master of the choir.

957. TO JULIA.

Offer thy gift; but first the law commands Thee, Julia, first, to sanctify thy hands: Do that, my Julia, which the rites require, Then boldly give thine incense to the fire.

958. TO THE MOST COMELY AND PROPER M. ELIZABETH FINCH.

Handsome you are, and proper you will be Despite of all your infortunity: Live long and lovely, but yet grow no less In that your own prefixed comeliness: Spend on that stock: and when your life must fall, Leave others beauty to set up withal.

_Proper_, well-made.

960. TO HIS BOOK.

If hap it must, that I must see thee lie Absyrtus-like, all torn confusedly: With solemn tears, and with much grief of heart, I'll recollect thee, weeping, part by part; And having wash'd thee, close thee in a chest With spice; that done, I'll leave thee to thy rest.

_Absyrtus-like_, the brother of Medea, cut in pieces by her that his father might be delayed by gathering his limbs.

961. TO THE KING, UPON HIS WELCOME TO HAMPTON COURT. SET AND SUNG.

Welcome, great Cæsar, welcome now you are As dearest peace after destructive war: Welcome as slumbers, or as beds of ease After our long and peevish sicknesses. O pomp of glory! Welcome now, and come To repossess once more your long'd-for home. A thousand altars smoke: a thousand thighs Of beeves here ready stand for sacrifice. Enter and prosper; while our eyes do wait For an ascendent throughly auspicate: Under which sign we may the former stone Lay of our safety's new foundation: That done, O Cæsar! live and be to us Our fate, our fortune, and our genius; To whose free knees we may our temples tie As to a still protecting deity: That should you stir, we and our altars too May, great Augustus, go along with you. _Chor._ Long live the King! and to accomplish this, We'll from our own add far more years to his.

_Ascendent_, the most influential position of a planet in astrology. _Auspicate_, propitious.

962. ULTIMUS HEROUM: OR, TO THE MOST LEARNED, AND TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, HENRY, MARQUIS OF DORCHESTER.

And as time past when Cato the severe Enter'd the circumspacious theatre, In reverence of his person everyone Stood as he had been turn'd from flesh to stone; E'en so my numbers will astonished be If but looked on; struck dead, if scann'd by thee.

963. TO HIS MUSE; ANOTHER TO THE SAME.

Tell that brave man, fain thou would'st have access To kiss his hands, but that for fearfulness; Or else because th'art like a modest bride, Ready to blush to death, should he but chide.

966. TO HIS LEARNED FRIEND, M. JO. HARMAR, PHYSICIAN TO THE COLLEGE OF WESTMINSTER.

When first I find those numbers thou dost write, To be most soft, terse, sweet, and perpolite: Next, when I see thee tow'ring in the sky, In an expansion no less large than high; Then, in that compass, sailing here and there, And with circumgyration everywhere; Following with love and active heat thy game, And then at last to truss the epigram; I must confess, distinction none I see Between Domitian's Martial then, and thee. But this I know, should Jupiter again Descend from heaven to reconverse with men; The Roman language full, and superfine, If Jove would speak, he would accept of thine.

_Perpolite_, well polished.

967. UPON HIS SPANIEL TRACY.

Now thou art dead, no eye shall ever see, For shape and service, spaniel like to thee. This shall my love do, give thy sad death one Tear, that deserves of me a million.

968. THE DELUGE.

Drowning, drowning, I espy Coming from my Julia's eye: 'Tis some solace in our smart, To have friends to bear a part: I have none; but must be sure Th' inundation to endure. Shall not times hereafter tell This for no mean miracle? When the waters by their fall Threaten'd ruin unto all, Yet the deluge here was known Of a world to drown but one.

971. STRENGTH TO SUPPORT SOVEREIGNTY.

Let kings and rulers learn this line from me: _Where power is weak, unsafe is majesty_.

973. CRUTCHES.

Thou see'st me, Lucia, this year droop; Three zodiacs filled more, I shall stoop; Let crutches then provided be To shore up my debility. Then, while thou laugh'st, I'll sighing cry, "A ruin, underpropp'd, am I". Don will I then my beadsman's gown, And when so feeble I am grown, As my weak shoulders cannot bear The burden of a grasshopper, Yet with the bench of aged sires, When I and they keep termly fires, With my weak voice I'll sing, or say, Some odes I made of Lucia: Then will I heave my wither'd hand To Jove the mighty, for to stand Thy faithful friend, and to pour down Upon thee many a benison.

_Zodiacs_, used as symbols of the astronomical year. _Beadsman's_, almshouseman's.

974. TO JULIA.

Holy waters hither bring For the sacred sprinkling: Baptise me and thee, and so Let us to the altar go, And, ere we our rites commence, Wash our hands in innocence. Then I'll be the Rex Sacrorum, Thou the Queen of Peace and Quorum.

_Quorum_, _i.e._, quorum of justices of the peace, sportively added for the rhyme's sake.

975. UPON CASE.

Case is a lawyer, that ne'er pleads alone, But when he hears the like confusion, As when the disagreeing Commons throw About their House, their clamorous Aye or No: Then Case, as loud as any serjeant there, Cries out: My lord, my lord, the case is clear. But when all's hush'd, Case, than a fish more mute, Bestirs his hand, but starves in hand the suit.

976. TO PERENNA.

I a dirge will pen to thee; Thou a trentall make for me: That the monks and friars together, Here may sing the rest of either: Next, I'm sure, the nuns will have Candlemas to grace the grave.

_Trentall_, services for the dead.

977. TO HIS SISTER-IN-LAW, M. SUSANNA HERRICK.

The person crowns the place; your lot doth fall Last, yet to be with these a principal. Howe'er it fortuned; know for truth, I meant You a fore-leader in this testament.

978. UPON THE LADY CREW.

This stone can tell the story of my life, What was my birth, to whom I was a wife: In teeming years, how soon my sun was set. Where now I rest, these may be known by jet. For other things, my many children be The best and truest chronicles of me.

979. ON TOMASIN PARSONS.

Grow up in beauty, as thou dost begin, And be of all admired, Tomasin.

980. CEREMONY UPON CANDLEMAS EVE.

Down with the rosemary, and so Down with the bays and mistletoe; Down with the holly, ivy, all, Wherewith ye dressed the Christmas Hall: That so the superstitious find No one least branch there left behind: For look, how many leaves there be Neglected, there (maids, trust to me) So many goblins you shall see.

981. SUSPICION MAKES SECURE.

He that will live of all cares dispossess'd, Must shun the bad, aye, and suspect the best.

983. TO HIS KINSMAN, M. THO. HERRICK, WHO DESIRED TO BE IN HIS BOOK.

Welcome to this my college, and though late Thou'st got a place here (standing candidate) It matters not, since thou art chosen one Here of my great and good foundation.

984. A BUCOLIC BETWIXT TWO: LACON AND THYRSIS.

_Lacon._ For a kiss or two, confess, What doth cause this pensiveness, Thou most lovely neat-herdess? Why so lonely on the hill? Why thy pipe by thee so still, That erewhile was heard so shrill? Tell me, do thy kine now fail To full fill the milking-pail? Say, what is't that thou dost ail?

_Thyr._ None of these; but out, alas! A mischance is come to pass, And I'll tell thee what it was: See, mine eyes are weeping-ripe.

_Lacon._ Tell, and I'll lay down my pipe.

_Thyr._ I have lost my lovely steer, That to me was far more dear Than these kine which I milk here: Broad of forehead, large of eye, Party-colour'd like a pie; Smooth in each limb as a die; Clear of hoof, and clear of horn: Sharply pointed as a thorn, With a neck by yoke unworn; From the which hung down by strings, Balls of cowslips, daisy rings, Interplac'd with ribbonings: Faultless every way for shape; Not a straw could him escape; Ever gamesome as an ape, But yet harmless as a sheep. Pardon, Lacon, if I weep; _Tears will spring where woes are deep_. Now, ay me! ay me! Last night Came a mad dog and did bite, Aye, and kill'd my dear delight.

_Lacon._ Alack, for grief!

_Thyr._ But I'll be brief. Hence I must, for time doth call Me, and my sad playmates all, To his ev'ning funeral. Live long, Lacon, so adieu!

_Lacon._ Mournful maid, farewell to you; _Earth afford ye flowers to strew_.

_Pie_, _i.e._, a magpie.

985. UPON SAPPHO.

Look upon Sappho's lip, and you will swear There is a love-like leaven rising there.

988. A BACCHANALIAN VERSE.

Drink up Your cup, But not spill wine; For if you Do, 'Tis an ill sign;

That we Foresee You are cloy'd here, If so, no Ho, But avoid here.

989. CARE A GOOD KEEPER.

_Care keeps the conquest; 'tis no less renown To keep a city than to win a town._

990. RULES FOR OUR REACH.

Men must have bounds how far to walk; for we Are made far worse by lawless liberty.

991. TO BIANCA.

Ah, Bianca! now I see It is noon and past with me: In a while it will strike one; Then, Bianca, I am gone. Some effusions let me have Offer'd on my holy grave; Then, Bianca, let me rest With my face towards the East.

992. TO THE HANDSOME MISTRESS GRACE POTTER.

As is your name, so is your comely face Touch'd everywhere with such diffused grace, As that in all that admirable round There is not one least solecism found; And as that part, so every portion else Keeps line for line with beauty's parallels.

993. ANACREONTIC.

I must Not trust Here to any; Bereav'd, Deceiv'd By so many: As one Undone By my losses; Comply Will I With my crosses; Yet still I will Not be grieving, Since thence And hence Comes relieving. But this Sweet is In our mourning; Times bad And sad Are a-turning: And he Whom we See dejected, Next day We may See erected.

994. MORE MODEST, MORE MANLY.

'Tis still observ'd those men most valiant are, That are most modest ere they come to war.

995. NOT TO COVET MUCH WHERE LITTLE IS THE CHARGE.

Why should we covet much, whenas we know W'ave more to bear our charge than way to go?

996. ANACREONTIC VERSE.

Brisk methinks I am, and fine When I drink my cap'ring wine: Then to love I do incline, When I drink my wanton wine: And I wish all maidens mine, When I drink my sprightly wine: Well I sup and well I dine, When I drink my frolic wine; But I languish, lower, and pine, When I want my fragrant wine.

998. PATIENCE IN PRINCES.

_Kings must not use the axe for each offence: Princes cure some faults by their patience._

999. FEAR GETS FORCE.

_Despair takes heart, when there's no hope to speed: The coward then takes arms and does the deed._

1000. PARCEL-GILT POETRY.

Let's strive to be the best; the gods, we know it, Pillars and men, hate an indifferent poet.

1001. UPON LOVE, BY WAY OF QUESTION AND ANSWER.

I bring ye love: _Quest._ What will love do? _Ans._ Like and dislike ye. I bring ye love: _Quest._ What will love do? _Ans._ Stroke ye to strike ye. I bring ye love: _Quest._ What will love do? _Ans._ Love will befool ye. I bring ye love: _Quest._ What will love do? Ans. Heat ye to cool ye. I bring ye love: _Quest._ What will love do? _Ans._ Love gifts will send ye. I bring ye love: _Quest._ What will love do? _Ans._ Stock ye to spend ye. I bring ye love: _Quest._ What will love do? _Ans._ Love will fulfil ye. I bring ye love: _Quest._ What will love do? _Ans._ Kiss ye to kill ye.

1002. TO THE LORD HOPTON, ON HIS FIGHT IN CORNWALL.

Go on, brave Hopton, to effectuate that Which we, and times to come, shall wonder at. Lift up thy sword; next, suffer it to fall, And by that one blow set an end to all.

1003. HIS GRANGE.

How well contented in this private grange Spend I my life, that's subject unto change: Under whose roof with moss-work wrought, there I Kiss my brown wife and black posterity.

_Grange_, a farmstead.

1004. LEPROSY IN HOUSES.

When to a house I come, and see The Genius wasteful, more than free: The servants thumbless, yet to eat With lawless tooth the flour of wheat: The sons to suck the milk of kine, More than the teats of discipline: The daughters wild and loose in dress, Their cheeks unstained with shamefac'dness: The husband drunk, the wife to be A bawd to incivility; I must confess, I there descry, A house spread through with leprosy.

_Thumbless_, lazy: cp. painful thumb, _supra_.

1005. GOOD MANNERS AT MEAT.

This rule of manners I will teach my guests: To come with their own bellies unto feasts; Not to eat equal portions, but to rise Farced with the food that may themselves suffice.

_Farced_, stuffed.

1006. ANTHEA'S RETRACTATION.

Anthea laugh'd, and fearing lest excess Might stretch the cords of civil comeliness, She with a dainty blush rebuk'd her face, And call'd each line back to his rule and space.

1007. COMFORTS IN CROSSES.

Be not dismayed though crosses cast thee down; Thy fall is but the rising to a crown.

1008. SEEK AND FIND.

_Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt; Nothing's so hard but search will find it out._

1009. REST.

On with thy work, though thou be'st hardly press'd: _Labour is held up by the hope of rest_.

1010. LEPROSY IN CLOTHES.

When flowing garments I behold Inspir'd with purple, pearl and gold, I think no other, but I see In them a glorious leprosy That does infect and make the rent More mortal in the vestiment. _As flowery vestures do descry The wearer's rich immodesty: So plain and simple clothes do show Where virtue walks, not those that flow._

1012. GREAT MALADIES, LONG MEDICINES.

_To an old sore a long cure must go on: Great faults require great satisfaction._

1013. HIS ANSWER TO A FRIEND.

You ask me what I do, and how I live? And, noble friend, this answer I must give: Drooping, I draw on to the vaults of death, O'er which you'll walk, when I am laid beneath.

1014. THE BEGGAR.

Shall I a daily beggar be, For love's sake asking alms of thee? Still shall I crave, and never get A hope of my desired bit? Ah, cruel maids! I'll go my way, Whereas, perchance, my fortunes may Find out a threshold or a door That may far sooner speed the poor: Where thrice we knock, and none will hear, Cold comfort still I'm sure lives there.

1015. BASTARDS.

Our bastard children are but like to plate Made by the coiners--illegitimate.

1016. HIS CHANGE.

My many cares and much distress Has made me like a wilderness; Or, discompos'd, I'm like a rude And all confused multitude: Out of my comely manners worn, And, as in means, in mind all torn.

1017. THE VISION.

Methought I saw, as I did dream in bed, A crawling vine about Anacreon's head. Flushed was his face; his hairs with oil did shine; And, as he spake, his mouth ran o'er with wine. Tippled he was, and tippling lisped withal; And lisping reeled, and reeling like to fall. A young enchantress close by him did stand, Tapping his plump thighs with a myrtle wand: She smil'd; he kiss'd; and kissing, cull'd her too, And being cup-shot, more he could not do. For which, methought, in pretty anger she Snatched off his crown, and gave the wreath to me; Since when, methinks, my brains about do swim, And I am wild and wanton like to him.

_Cull'd_, embraced. _Cup-shot_, drunk.

1018. A VOW TO VENUS.

Happily I had a sight Of my dearest dear last night; Make her this day smile on me, And I'll roses give to thee.

1019. ON HIS BOOK.

The bound, almost, now of my book I see, But yet no end of these therein, or me: Here we begin new life, while thousands quite Are lost, and theirs, in everlasting night.

1020. A SONNET OF PERILLA.

Then did I live when I did see Perilla smile on none but me. But, ah! by stars malignant crossed, The life I got I quickly lost; But yet a way there doth remain For me embalm'd to live again, And that's to love me; in which state I'll live as one regenerate.

1021. BAD MAY BE BETTER.

Man may at first transgress, but next do well: _Vice doth in some but lodge a while, not dwell_.

1022. POSTING TO PRINTING.

Let others to the printing press run fast; Since after death comes glory, I'll not haste.

1023. RAPINE BRINGS RUIN.

What's got by justice is established sure: _No kingdoms got by rapine long endure_.

1024. COMFORT TO A YOUTH THAT HAD LOST HIS LOVE.

What needs complaints, When she a place Has with the race Of saints? In endless mirth, She thinks not on What's said or done In earth. She sees no tears, Or any tone Of thy deep groan She hears: Nor does she mind, Or think on't now, That ever thou Wast kind; But chang'd above, She likes not there. As she did here, Thy love. Forbear, therefore, And lull asleep Thy woes, and weep No more.

1026. SAINT DISTAFF'S DAY, OR THE MORROW AFTER TWELFTH DAY.

Partly work and partly play Ye must on S. Distaff's day: From the plough soon free your team, Then come home and fodder them. If the maids a-spinning go, Burn the flax and fire the tow; Scorch their plackets, but beware That ye singe no maidenhair. Bring in pails of water, then, Let the maids bewash the men. Give S. Distaff all the right, Then bid Christmas sport good-night; And next morrow everyone To his own vocation.

_Plackets_, petticoats.

1027. SUFFERANCE.

In the hope of ease to come, Let's endure one martyrdom.

1028. HIS TEARS TO THAMESIS.

I send, I send here my supremest kiss To thee, my silver-footed Thamesis. No more shall I reiterate thy Strand, Whereon so many stately structures stand: Nor in the summer's sweeter evenings go To bathe in thee, as thousand others do; No more shall I along thy crystal glide In barge with boughs and rushes beautifi'd, With soft-smooth virgins for our chaste disport, To Richmond, Kingston, and to Hampton Court. Never again shall I with finny oar Put from, or draw unto the faithful shore: And landing here, or safely landing there, Make way to my beloved Westminster, Or to the golden Cheapside, where the earth Of Julia Herrick gave to me my birth. May all clean nymphs and curious water-dames With swan-like state float up and down thy streams: No drought upon thy wanton waters fall To make them lean and languishing at all. No ruffling winds come hither to disease Thy pure and silver-wristed Naiades. Keep up your state, ye streams; and as ye spring, Never make sick your banks by surfeiting. Grow young with tides, and though I see ye never, Receive this vow, so fare ye well for ever.

_Reiterate_, retread.

1029. PARDONS.

Those ends in war the best contentment bring, _Whose peace is made up with a pardoning_.

1030. PEACE NOT PERMANENT.

_Great cities seldom rest; if there be none T' invade from far, they'll find worse foes at home._

1031. TRUTH AND ERROR.

_'Twixt truth and error there's this difference known; Error is fruitful, truth is only one._

1032. THINGS MORTAL STILL MUTABLE.

_Things are uncertain, and the more we get, The more on icy pavements we are set._

1033. STUDIES TO BE SUPPORTED.

_Studies themselves will languish and decay, When either price or praise is ta'en away._

1034. WIT PUNISHED, PROSPERS MOST.

Dread not the shackles: on with thine intent; _Good wits get more fame by their punishment_.

1035. TWELFTH NIGHT: OR, KING AND QUEEN.

Now, now the mirth comes With the cake full of plums, Where bean's the king of the sport here; Beside we must know, The pea also Must revel, as queen, in the court here.

Begin then to choose, This night as ye use, Who shall for the present delight here, Be a king by the lot, And who shall not Be Twelfth-day queen for the night here.

Which known, let us make Joy-sops with the cake; And let not a man then be seen here, Who unurg'd will not drink To the base from the brink A health to the king and the queen here.

Next crown the bowl full With gentle lamb's wool: Add sugar, nutmeg, and ginger, With store of ale too; And thus ye must do To make the wassail a swinger.

Give then to the king And queen wassailing: And though with ale ye be whet here, Yet part ye from hence, As free from offence As when ye innocent met here.

1036. HIS DESIRE.

Give me a man that is not dull When all the world with rifts is full; But unamaz'd dares clearly sing, Whenas the roof's a-tottering: And, though it falls, continues still Tickling the cittern with his quill.

_Cittern_, a kind of lute; _quill_, the plectrum for striking it.

1037. CAUTION IN COUNSEL.

Know when to speak; for many times it brings Danger to give the best advice to kings.

1038. MODERATION.

Let moderation on thy passions wait; Who loves too much, too much the lov'd will hate.

1039. ADVICE THE BEST ACTOR.

_Still take advice; though counsels, when they fly At random, sometimes hit most happily._

1040. CONFORMITY IS COMELY.

_Conformity gives comeliness to things: And equal shares exclude all murmurings._

1041. LAWS.

Who violates the customs, hurts the health, Not of one man, but all the commonwealth.

1042. THE MEAN.

'Tis much among the filthy to be clean; _Our heat of youth can hardly keep the mean_.

1043. LIKE LOVES HIS LIKE.

Like will to like, each creature loves his kind; Chaste words proceed still from a bashful mind.

1044. HIS HOPE OR SHEET ANCHOR.

Among these tempests great and manifold My ship has here one only anchor-hold; That is my hope, which if that slip, I'm one Wildered in this vast wat'ry region.

1045. COMFORT IN CALAMITY.

'Tis no discomfort in the world to fall, When the great crack not crushes one, but all.

1046. TWILIGHT.

The twilight is no other thing, we say, Than night now gone, and yet not sprung the day.

1047. FALSE MOURNING.

He who wears blacks, and mourns not for the dead, Does but deride the party buried.

_Blacks_, mourning garments.

1048. THE WILL MAKES THE WORK; OR, CONSENT MAKES THE CURE.

No grief is grown so desperate, but the ill Is half way cured if the party will.

1049. DIET.

If wholesome diet can recure a man, What need of physic or physician?

1050. SMART.

Stripes, justly given, yerk us with their fall; But causeless whipping smarts the most of all.

1051. THE TINKER'S SONG.

Along, come along, Let's meet in a throng Here of tinkers; And quaff up a bowl As big as a cowl To beer drinkers. The pole of the hop Place in the aleshop To bethwack us, If ever we think So much as to drink Unto Bacchus. Who frolic will be For little cost, he Must not vary From beer-broth at all, So much as to call For Canary.

1052. HIS COMFORT.

The only comfort of my life Is, that I never yet had wife; Nor will hereafter; since I know Who weds, o'er-buys his weal with woe

1053. SINCERITY.

Wash clean the vessel, lest ye sour Whatever liquor in ye pour.

1054. TO ANTHEA.

Sick is Anthea, sickly is the spring, The primrose sick, and sickly everything; The while my dear Anthea does but droop, The tulips, lilies, daffodils do stoop: But when again she's got her healthful hour, Each bending then will rise a proper flower.

1055. NOR BUYING OR SELLING.

Now, if you love me, tell me, For as I will not sell ye, So not one cross to buy thee I'll give, if thou deny me.

_Cross_, a coin.

1056. TO HIS PECULIAR FRIEND, M. JO. WICKS.

Since shed or cottage I have none, I sing the more, that thou hast one To whose glad threshold, and free door, I may a poet come, though poor, And eat with thee a savoury bit, Paying but common thanks for it. Yet should I chance, my Wicks, to see An over-leaven look in thee, To sour the bread, and turn the beer To an exalted vinegar: Or should'st thou prize me as a dish Of thrice-boiled worts, or third-day's fish; I'd rather hungry go and come, Than to thy house be burdensome; Yet, in my depth of grief, I'd be One that should drop his beads for thee.

_Worts_, cabbages. _Drop his beads_, _i.e._, pray.

1057. THE MORE MIGHTY, THE MORE MERCIFUL.

_Who may do most, does least: the bravest will Show mercy there, where they have power to kill._

1058. AFTER AUTUMN, WINTER.

Die ere long, I'm sure, I shall; After leaves, the tree must fall.

1059. A GOOD DEATH.

For truth I may this sentence tell, _No man dies ill, that liveth well_.

1060. RECOMPENSE.

Who plants an olive, but to eat the oil? _Reward, we know, is the chief end of toil_.

1061. ON FORTUNE.

This is my comfort when she's most unkind: She can but spoil me of my means, not mind.

1062. TO SIR GEORGE PARRY, DOCTOR OF THE CIVIL LAW.

I have my laurel chaplet on my head If, 'mongst these many numbers to be read, But one by you be hugg'd and cherished.

Peruse my measures thoroughly, and where Your judgment finds a guilty poem, there Be you a judge; but not a judge severe.

The mean pass by, or over, none contemn; The good applaud; the peccant less condemn, Since absolution you can give to them.

Stand forth, brave man, here to the public sight; And in my book now claim a twofold right: The first as doctor, and the last as knight.

1063. CHARMS.

This I'll tell ye by the way: Maidens, when ye leavens lay, Cross your dough, and your dispatch Will be better for your batch.

1064. ANOTHER.

In the morning when ye rise, Wash your hands and cleanse your eyes. Next be sure ye have a care To disperse the water far; For as far as that doth light, So far keeps the evil sprite.

1065. ANOTHER.

If ye fear to be affrighted When ye are by chance benighted, In your pocket for a trust Carry nothing but a crust: For that holy piece of bread Charms the danger and the dread.

1067. GENTLENESS.

_That prince must govern with a gentle hand Who will have love comply with his command._

1068. A DIALOGUE BETWEEN HIMSELF AND MISTRESS ELIZA WHEELER, UNDER THE NAME OF AMARYLLIS.

_Her._ My dearest love, since thou wilt go, And leave me here behind thee, For love or pity let me know The place where I may find thee.

_Ama._ In country meadows pearl'd with dew, And set about with lilies, There, filling maunds with cowslips, you May find your Amaryllis.

_Her._ What have the meads to do with thee, Or with thy youthful hours? Live thou at Court, where thou mayst be The queen of men, not flowers.

Let country wenches make 'em fine With posies, since 'tis fitter For thee with richest gems to shine, And like the stars to glitter.

_Ama._ You set too high a rate upon A shepherdess so homely. _Her._ Believe it, dearest, there's not one I' th' Court that's half so comely.

I prithee stay. _Ama._ I must away; Let's kiss first, then we'll sever. _Ambo._ And though we bid adieu to-day, We shall not part for ever.

_Maunds_, baskets.

1069. TO JULIA.

Help me, Julia, for to pray, Matins sing, or matins say: This, I know, the fiend will fly Far away, if thou be'st by. Bring the holy water hither, Let us wash and pray together; When our beads are thus united, Then the foe will fly affrighted.

_Beads_, prayers.

1070. TO ROSES IN JULIA'S BOSOM.

Roses, you can never die, Since the place wherein ye lie, Heat and moisture mix'd are so As to make ye ever grow.

1071. TO THE HONOURED MASTER ENDYMION PORTER.

When to thy porch I come and ravish'd see The state of poets there attending thee, Those bards and I, all in a chorus sing: We are thy prophets, Porter, thou our king.

1072. SPEAK IN SEASON.

When times are troubled, then forbear; but speak When a clear day out of a cloud does break.

1073. OBEDIENCE.

The power of princes rests in the consent Of only those who are obedient: Which if away, proud sceptres then will lie Low, and of thrones the ancient majesty.

1074. ANOTHER OF THE SAME.

_No man so well a kingdom rules as he Who hath himself obeyed the sovereignty._

1075. OF LOVE.

1. Instruct me now what love will do. 2. 'Twill make a tongueless man to woo. 1. Inform me next, what love will do. 2. 'Twill strangely make a one of two. 1. Teach me besides, what love will do. 2. 'Twill quickly mar, and make ye too. 1. Tell me now last, what love will do. 2. 'Twill hurt and heal a heart pierc'd through.

1076. UPON TRAP.

Trap of a player turn'd a priest now is: Behold a sudden metamorphosis. If tithe-pigs fail, then will he shift the scene, And from a priest turn player once again.

1080. THE SCHOOL OR PEARL OF PUTNEY, THE MISTRESS OF ALL SINGULAR MANNERS, MISTRESS PORTMAN.

Whether I was myself, or else did see Out of myself that glorious hierarchy; Or whether those, in orders rare, or these Made up one state of sixty Venuses; Or whether fairies, syrens, nymphs they were, Or muses on their mountain sitting there; Or some enchanted place, I do not know, Or Sharon, where eternal roses grow. This I am sure: I ravished stood, as one Confus'd in utter admiration. Methought I saw them stir, and gently move, And look as all were capable of love; And in their motion smelt much like to flowers Inspir'd by th' sunbeams after dews and showers. There did I see the reverend rectress stand, Who with her eye's gleam, or a glance of hand, Those spirits raised; and with like precepts then, As with a magic, laid them all again. _A happy realm! When no compulsive law, Or fear of it, but love keeps all in awe._ Live you, great mistress of your arts, and be A nursing mother so to majesty, As those your ladies may in time be seen, For grace and carriage, everyone a queen. One birth their parents gave them; but their new, And better being, they receive from you. _Man's former birth is graceless; but the state Of life comes in, when he's regenerate._

1081. TO PERENNA.

Thou say'st I'm dull; if edgeless so I be, I'll whet my lips, and sharpen love on thee.

1082. ON HIMSELF.

Let me not live if I not love: Since I as yet did never prove Where pleasures met, at last do find All pleasures meet in womankind.

1083. ON LOVE.

That love 'twixt men does ever longest last Where war and peace the dice by turns do cast.

1084. ANOTHER ON LOVE.

Love's of itself too sweet; the best of all Is, when love's honey has a dash of gall.

1086. UPON CHUB.

When Chub brings in his harvest, still he cries, "Aha, my boys! here's meat for Christmas pies!" Soon after he for beer so scores his wheat, That at the tide he has not bread to eat.

1087. PLEASURES PERNICIOUS.

Where pleasures rule a kingdom, never there Is sober virtue seen to move her sphere.

1088. ON HIMSELF.

A wearied pilgrim, I have wandered here Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but one year; Long I have lasted in this world, 'tis true, But yet those years that I have lived, but few. Who by his grey hairs doth his lusters tell, Lives not those years, but he that lives them well. One man has reach'd his sixty years, but he Of all those threescore, has not liv'd half three. _He lives, who lives to virtue; men who cast Their ends for pleasure, do not live, but last._

_Luster_, five years.

1089. TO M. LAURENCE SWETNAHAM.

Read thou my lines, my Swetnaham; if there be A fault, 'tis hid if it be voic'd by thee. Thy mouth will make the sourest numbers please: How will it drop pure honey speaking these!

1090. HIS COVENANT; OR, PROTESTATION TO JULIA.

Why dost thou wound and break my heart, As if we should for ever part? Hast thou not heard an oath from me, After a day, or two, or three, I would come back and live with thee? Take, if thou dost distrust that vow, This second protestation now. Upon thy cheek that spangled tear, Which sits as dew of roses there, That tear shall scarce be dried before I'll kiss the threshold of thy door. Then weep not, sweet; but thus much know, I'm half return'd before I go.

1091. ON HIMSELF.

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 frolic youths, adieu; My lamp to you I'll give, And all my troubles too.

1092. TO THE MOST ACCOMPLISHED GENTLEMAN, M. MICHAEL OULSWORTH.

Nor think that thou in this my book art worst, Because not plac'd 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 fame's rear'd pillar, thou shalt see In the next sheet, brave man, to follow thee. Fix on that column then, and never fall, Held up by Fame's eternal pedestal.

_In the next sheet._ See 1129.

1093. TO HIS GIRLS, WHO WOULD HAVE HIM SPORTFUL.

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 girls, shall see Ye quake for cold to look on me.

1094. TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD.

_Truth by her own simplicity is known, Falsehood by varnish and vermilion._

1095. HIS LAST REQUEST TO JULIA.

I have been wanton and too bold, I fear, To chafe o'ermuch the virgin's cheek or ear. Beg for my pardon, Julia: _he doth win Grace with the gods who's sorry for his sin_. That done, my Julia, dearest Julia, come And go with me to choose my burial room: My fates are ended; when thy Herrick dies, Clasp thou his book, then close thou up his eyes.

1096. ON HIMSELF.

One ear tingles; some there be That are snarling now at me: Be they those that Homer bit, I will give them thanks for it.

1097. UPON KINGS.

_Kings must be dauntless; subjects will contemn Those who want hearts and wear a diadem._

1098. TO HIS GIRLS.

Wanton wenches, do not bring For my hairs black colouring: For my locks, girls, let 'em be Grey or white, all's one to me.

1100. TO HIS BROTHER, NICHOLAS HERRICK.

What others have with cheapness seen and ease In varnish'd maps, by th' help of compasses, Or read in volumes and those books with all Their large narrations incanonical, Thou hast beheld those seas and countries far, And tell'st to us what once they were, and are. So that with bold truth thou can'st now relate This kingdom's fortune, and that empire's fate: Can'st talk to us of Sharon, where a spring Of roses have an endless flourishing; Of Sion, Sinai, Nebo, and with them Make known to us the new Jerusalem; The Mount of Olives, Calvary, and where Is, and hast seen, thy Saviour's sepulchre. So that the man that will but lay his ears As inapostate to the thing he hears, Shall by his hearing quickly come to see The truth of travels less in books than thee.

_Large_, exaggerated. _Incanonical_, untrustworthy.

1101. THE VOICE AND VIOL.

Rare is the voice itself: but when we sing To th' lute or viol, then 'tis ravishing.

1102. WAR.

If kings and kingdoms once distracted be, The sword of war must try the sovereignty

1103. A KING AND NO KING.

_That prince who may do nothing but what's just, Rules but by leave, and takes his crown on trust._

1104. PLOTS NOT STILL PROSPEROUS.

All are not ill plots that do sometimes fail; Nor those false vows which ofttimes don't prevail.

1105. FLATTERY.

What is't that wastes a prince? example shows, 'Tis flattery spends a king, more than his foes.

1109. EXCESS.

Excess is sluttish: keep the mean; for why? Virtue's clean conclave is sobriety.

_Conclave_, guard.

1111. THE SOUL IS THE SALT.

The body's salt the soul is; which when gone, The flesh soon sucks in putrefaction.

1117. ABSTINENCE.

Against diseases here the strongest fence Is the defensive virtue, abstinence.

1118. NO DANGER TO MEN DESPERATE.

When fear admits no hope of safety, then Necessity makes dastards valiant men.

1119. SAUCE FOR SORROWS.

Although our suffering meet with no relief, _An equal mind is the best sauce for grief_.

1120. TO CUPID.

I have a leaden, thou a shaft of gold; Thou kill'st with heat, and I strike dead with cold. Let's try of us who shall the first expire; Or thou by frost, or I by quenchless fire: _Extremes are fatal where they once do strike, And bring to th' heart destruction both alike_.

1121. DISTRUST.

Whatever men for loyalty pretend, _'Tis wisdom's part to doubt a faithful friend_.

1123. THE MOUNT OF THE MUSES.

After thy labour take thine ease, Here with the sweet Pierides. But if so be that men will not Give thee the laurel crown for lot; Be yet assur'd, thou shall have one Not subject to corruption.

1124. ON HIMSELF.

I'll write no more of love; but now repent Of all those times that I in it have spent. I'll write no more of life; but wish 'twas ended, And that my dust was to the earth commended.

1125. TO HIS BOOK.

Go thou forth, my book, though late: Yet be timely fortunate. It may chance good luck may send Thee a kinsman, or a friend, That may harbour thee, when I With my fates neglected lie. If thou know'st not where to dwell, See, the fire's by: farewell.

1126. THE END OF HIS WORK.

Part of the work remains; one part is past: And here my ship rides, having anchor cast.

1127. TO CROWN IT.

My wearied bark, O let it now be crown'd! The haven reach'd to which I first was bound.

1128. ON HIMSELF.

The work is done: young men and maidens, set Upon my curls the myrtle coronet Washed with sweet ointments: thus at last I come To suffer in the Muses' martyrdom; But with this comfort, if my blood be shed, The Muses will wear blacks when I am dead.

_Blacks_, mourning garments.

1129. THE PILLAR OF FAME.

Fame's pillar here, at last, we set, Outduring marble, brass, or jet. Charm'd and enchanted so As to withstand the blow Of o v e r t h r o w; Nor shall the seas, Or o u t r a g e s Of storms o'erbear What we uprear. Tho' kingdoms fall, This pillar never shall Decline or waste at all; But stand for ever by his own Firm and well-fix'd foundation.

To his book's end this last line he'd have placed: _Jocund his muse was, but his life was chaste_.

HIS

NOBLE NUMBERS:

_OR_,

HIS PIOUS PIECES,

Wherein (amongst other things)

he sings the Birth of his CHRIST; and sighes for his _Saviours_ suffering on the _Crosse_.

HESIOD.

Ἴδμεν ψεύδεα πολλὰ λέγειν ἐτύμοισιν ὁμοῖα. Ἴδμεν δ', εὖτ' ἐθέλωμεν, ἀληθέα μυθήσασθαι.

LONDON Printed for _John Williams_, and _Francis Eglesfield_. 1647.

HIS NOBLE NUMBERS:

OR,

HIS PIOUS PIECES.

1. HIS CONFESSION.

Look how our foul days do exceed our fair; And as our bad, more than our good works are, E'en so those lines, pen'd by my wanton wit, Treble the number of these good I've writ. Things precious are least numerous: men are prone To do ten bad for one good action.

2. HIS PRAYER FOR ABSOLUTION.

For those my unbaptised rhymes, Writ in my wild unhallowed times; For every sentence, clause, and word, That's not inlaid with Thee, my Lord, Forgive me, God, and blot each line Out of my book that is not Thine. But if, 'mongst all, thou find'st here one Worthy Thy benediction; That one of all the rest shall be The glory of my work and me.

3. TO FIND GOD.

Weigh me the fire; or canst thou find A way to measure out the wind; Distinguish all those floods that are Mix'd in that watery theatre; And taste thou them as saltless there As in their channel first they were. Tell me the people that do keep Within the kingdoms of the deep; Or fetch me back that cloud again Beshiver'd into seeds of rain; Tell me the motes, dust, sands, and spears Of corn, when summer shakes his ears; Show me that world of stars, and whence They noiseless spill their influence: This if thou canst, then show me Him That rides the glorious cherubim.

_Keep_, abide.

4. WHAT GOD IS.

God is above the sphere of our esteem, And is the best known, not defining Him.

5. UPON GOD.

God is not only said to be An Ens, but Supraentity.

6. MERCY AND LOVE.

God hath two wings which He doth ever move; The one is mercy, and the next is love: Under the first the sinners ever trust; And with the last He still directs the just.

7. GOD'S ANGER WITHOUT AFFECTION.

God when He's angry here with anyone, His wrath is free from perturbation; And when we think His looks are sour and grim, The alteration is in us, not Him.

8. GOD NOT TO BE COMPREHENDED.

'Tis hard to find God, but to comprehend Him, as He is, is labour without end.

9. GOD'S PART.

Prayers and praises are those spotless two Lambs, by the law, which God requires as due.

10. AFFLICTION.

God ne'er afflicts us more than our desert, Though He may seem to overact His part: Sometimes He strikes us more than flesh can bear; But yet still less than grace can suffer here.

11. THREE FATAL SISTERS.

Three fatal sisters wait upon each sin; First, fear and shame without, then guilt within.

12. SILENCE.

Suffer thy legs, but not thy tongue to walk: God, the Most Wise, is sparing of His talk.

13. MIRTH.

True mirth resides not in the smiling skin: The sweetest solace is to act no sin.

14. LOADING AND UNLOADING.

God loads and unloads, thus His work begins, To load with blessings and unload from sins.

15. GOD'S MERCY.

God's boundless mercy is, to sinful man, Like to the ever-wealthy ocean: Which though it sends forth thousand streams, 'tis ne'er Known, or else seen, to be the emptier; And though it takes all in, 'tis yet no more Full, and fill'd full, than when full fill'd before.

16. PRAYERS MUST HAVE POISE.

God, He rejects all prayers that are slight And want their poise: words ought to have their weight.

17. TO GOD: AN ANTHEM SUNG IN THE CHAPEL AT WHITEHALL BEFORE THE KING.

_Verse._ My God, I'm wounded by my sin, And sore without, and sick within. _Ver. Chor._ I come to Thee, in hope to find Salve for my body and my mind. _Verse._ In Gilead though no balm be found To ease this smart or cure this wound, _Ver. Chor._ Yet, Lord, I know there is with Thee All saving health, and help for me. _Verse._ Then reach Thou forth that hand of Thine, That pours in oil, as well as wine, _Ver. Chor._ And let it work, for I'll endure The utmost smart, so Thou wilt cure.

18. UPON GOD.

God is all fore-part; for, we never see Any part backward in the Deity.

19. CALLING AND CORRECTING.

God is not only merciful to call Men to repent, but when He strikes withal.

20. NO ESCAPING THE SCOURGING.

God scourgeth some severely, some He spares; But all in smart have less or greater shares.

21. THE ROD.

God's rod doth watch while men do sleep, and then The rod doth sleep, while vigilant are men.

22. GOD HAS A TWOFOLD PART.

God, when for sin He makes His children smart, His own He acts not, but another's part; But when by stripes He saves them, then 'tis known He comes to play the part that is His own.

23. GOD IS ONE.

God, as He is most holy known, So He is said to be most one.

24. PERSECUTIONS PROFITABLE.

Afflictions they most profitable are To the beholder and the sufferer: Bettering them both, but by a double strain, The first by patience, and the last by pain.

25. TO GOD.

Do with me, God, as Thou didst deal with John, Who writ that heavenly Revelation. Let me, like him, first cracks of thunder hear, Then let the harps enchantments stroke mine ear: Here give me thorns, there, in Thy kingdom, set Upon my head the golden coronet; There give me day; but here my dreadful night: My sackcloth here; but there my stole of white.

_Stroke_, text _strike_.

26. WHIPS.

God has His whips here to a twofold end: The bad to punish, and the good t' amend.

27. GOD'S PROVIDENCE.

If all transgressions here should have their pay, What need there then be of a reckoning day? If God should punish no sin here of men, His providence who would not question then?

28. TEMPTATION.

Those saints which God loves best, The devil tempts not least.

29. HIS EJACULATION TO GOD.

My God! look on me with Thine eye Of pity, not of scrutiny; For if Thou dost, Thou then shalt see Nothing but loathsome sores in me. O then, for mercy's sake, behold These my eruptions manifold, And heal me with Thy look or touch; But if Thou wilt not deign so much, Because I'm odious in Thy sight, Speak but the word, and cure me quite.

30. GOD'S GIFTS NOT SOON GRANTED.

God hears us when we pray, but yet defers His gifts, to exercise petitioners; And though a while He makes requesters stay, With princely hand He'll recompense delay.

31. PERSECUTIONS PURIFY.

God strikes His Church, but 'tis to this intent, To make, not mar her, by this punishment; So where He gives the bitter pills, be sure 'Tis not to poison, but to make thee pure.

32. PARDON.

God pardons those who do through frailty sin, But never those that persevere therein.

33. AN ODE OF THE BIRTH OF OUR SAVIOUR.

In numbers, and but these few, I sing Thy birth, O JESU! Thou pretty baby, born here, With sup'rabundant scorn here; Who for Thy princely port here, Hadst for Thy place Of birth a base Out-stable for Thy court here.

Instead of neat enclosures Of interwoven osiers, Instead of fragrant posies Of daffodils and roses, Thy cradle, Kingly Stranger, As Gospel tells, Was nothing else But here a homely manger.

But we with silks, not crewels, With sundry precious jewels, And lily-work will dress Thee; And as we dispossess Thee Of clouts, we'll make a chamber, Sweet babe, for Thee Of ivory, And plaister'd round with amber.

The Jews they did disdain Thee, But we will entertain Thee With glories to await here, Upon Thy princely state here; And more for love than pity, From year to year, We'll make Thee, here, A freeborn of our city.

_Crewels_, worsteds. _Clouts_, rags.

34. LIP-LABOUR.

In the old Scripture I have often read, The calf without meal ne'er was offered; To figure to us nothing more than this, Without the heart lip-labour nothing is.

35. THE HEART.

In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.

36. EARRINGS.

Why wore th' Egyptians jewels in the ear? But for to teach us, all the grace is there, When we obey, by acting what we hear.

37. SIN SEEN.

When once the sin has fully acted been, Then is the horror of the trespass seen.

38. UPON TIME.

Time was upon The wing, to fly away; And I call'd on Him but awhile to stay; But he'd be gone, For ought that I could say.

He held out then A writing, as he went; And ask'd me, when False man would be content To pay again What God and Nature lent.

An hour-glass, In which were sands but few, As he did pass, He show'd, and told me, too, Mine end near was; And so away he flew.

39. HIS PETITION.

If war or want shall make me grow so poor, As for to beg my bread from door to door; Lord! let me never act that beggar's part, Who hath Thee in his mouth, not in his heart: He who asks alms in that so sacred Name, Without due reverence, plays the cheater's game.

40. TO GOD.

Thou hast promis'd, Lord, to be With me in my misery; Suffer me to be so bold As to speak, Lord, say and hold.

41. HIS LITANY TO THE HOLY SPIRIT.

In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart and sick in head, And with doubts discomforted, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the house doth sigh and weep, And the world is drown'd in sleep, Yet mine eyes the watch do keep, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the artless doctor sees No one hope, but of his fees, And his skill runs on the lees, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When his potion and his pill Has, or none, or little skill, Meet for nothing, but to kill; Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the passing bell doth toll, And the furies in a shoal Come to fright a parting soul, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tapers now burn blue, And the comforters are few, And that number more than true, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the priest his last hath prayed, And I nod to what is said, 'Cause my speech is now decayed, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When, God knows, I'm toss'd about, Either with despair, or doubt; Yet before the glass be out, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tempter me pursu'th With the sins of all my youth, And half damns me with untruth, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the flames and hellish cries Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes, And all terrors me surprise, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the judgment is reveal'd, And that open'd which was seal'd, When to Thee I have appeal'd, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

42. THANKSGIVING.

Thanksgiving for a former, doth invite God to bestow a second benefit.

43. COCK-CROW.

Bellman of night, if I about shall go For to deny my Master, do thou crow. Thou stop'dst St. Peter in the midst of sin; Stay me, by crowing, ere I do begin: Better it is, premonish'd for to shun A sin, than fall to weeping when 'tis done.

44. ALL THINGS RUN WELL FOR THE RIGHTEOUS.

Adverse and prosperous fortunes both work on Here, for the righteous man's salvation; Be he oppos'd, or be he not withstood, All serve to th' augmentation of his good.

45. PAIN ENDS IN PLEASURE.

Afflictions bring us joy in times to come, When sins, by stripes, to us grow wearisome.

46. TO GOD.

I'll come, I'll creep, though Thou dost threat, Humbly unto Thy mercy-seat: When I am there, this then I'll do, Give Thee a dart, and dagger too; Next, when I have my faults confessed, Naked I'll show a sighing breast; Which if that can't Thy pity woo, Then let Thy justice do the rest And strike it through.

47. A THANKSGIVING TO GOD FOR HIS HOUSE.

Lord, Thou hast given me a cell Wherein to dwell; A little house, whose humble roof Is weather-proof; Under the spars of which I lie Both soft and dry; Where Thou my chamber for to ward Hast set a guard Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep Me, while I sleep. Low is my porch, as is my fate, Both void of state; And yet the threshold of my door Is worn by th' poor, Who thither come, and freely get Good words or meat; Like as my parlour, so my hall And kitchen's small; A little buttery, and therein A little bin Which keeps my little loaf of bread Unclipt, unflead. Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar Make me a fire, Close by whose living coal I sit, And glow like it. Lord, I confess, too, when I dine, The pulse is Thine, And all those other bits, that be There placed by Thee; The worts, the purslain, and the mess Of water-cress, Which of Thy kindness Thou hast sent; And my content Makes those, and my beloved beet, To be more sweet. 'Tis Thou that crown'st my glittering hearth With guiltless mirth; And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink, Spiced to the brink. Lord, 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand, That soils my land; And giv'st me for my bushel sown, Twice ten for one. Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay Her egg each day; Besides my healthful ewes to bear Me twins each year, The while the conduits of my kine Run cream for wine. All these, and better Thou dost send Me, to this end, That I should render, for my part, A thankful heart; Which, fired with incense, I resign, As wholly Thine; But the acceptance, that must be, My Christ, by Thee.

_Unflead_, lit. unflay'd. _Purslain_, an herb.

48. TO GOD.

Make, make me Thine, my gracious God, Or with Thy staff, or with Thy rod; And be the blow, too, what it will, Lord, I will kiss it, though it kill: Beat me, bruise me, rack me, rend me, Yet, in torments, I'll commend Thee; Examine me with fire, and prove me To the full, yet I will love Thee; Nor shall Thou give so deep a wound But I as patient will be found.

49. ANOTHER TO GOD.

Lord, do not beat me, Since I do sob and cry, And swoon away to die, Ere Thou dost threat me. Lord, do not scourge me, If I by lies and oaths Have soil'd myself or clothes, But rather purge me.

50. NONE TRULY HAPPY HERE.

Happy's that man to whom God gives A stock of goods, whereby he lives Near to the wishes of his heart: No man is blest through every part.

51. TO HIS EVER-LOVING GOD.

Can I not come to Thee, my God, for these So very many meeting hindrances, That slack my pace, but yet not make me stay? Who slowly goes, rids, in the end, his way. Clear Thou my paths, or shorten Thou my miles, Remove the bars, or lift me o'er the stiles; Since rough the way is, help me when I call, And take me up; or else prevent the fall. I ken my home, and it affords some ease To see far off the smoking villages. Fain would I rest, yet covet not to die For fear of future biting penury: No, no, my God, Thou know'st my wishes be To leave this life, not loving it, but Thee.

_Rids way_, gets over the ground.

52. ANOTHER.

Thou bid'st me come; I cannot come; for why? Thou dwell'st aloft, and I want wings to fly. To mount my soul, she must have pinions given; For 'tis no easy way from earth to heaven.

53. TO DEATH.

Thou bid'st me come away, And I'll no longer stay Than for to shed some tears For faults of former years, And to repent some crimes Done in the present times: And next, to take a bit Of bread, and wine with it: To don my robes of love, Fit for the place above; To gird my loins about With charity throughout; And so to travel hence With feet of innocence: These done, I'll only cry God mercy, and so die.

54. NEUTRALITY LOATHSOME.

God will have all, or none; serve Him, or fall Down before Baal, Bel, or Belial: Either be hot or cold: God doth despise, Abhor, and spew out all neutralities.

55. WELCOME WHAT COMES.

Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among God's blessings there is no one small.

56. TO HIS ANGRY GOD.

Through all the night Thou dost me fright, And hold'st mine eyes from sleeping; And day by day, My cup can say My wine is mix'd with weeping.

Thou dost my bread With ashes knead Each evening and each morrow; Mine eye and ear Do see and hear The coming in of sorrow.

Thy scourge of steel, Ah me! I feel Upon me beating ever: While my sick heart With dismal smart Is disacquainted never.

Long, long, I'm sure, This can't endure, But in short time 'twill please Thee, My gentle God, To burn the rod, Or strike so as to ease me.

57. PATIENCE: OR, COMFORTS IN CROSSES.

Abundant plagues I late have had, Yet none of these have made me sad: For why? My Saviour with the sense Of suff'ring gives me patience.

58. ETERNITY.

O years! and age! farewell: Behold, I go Where I do know Infinity to dwell.

And these mine eyes shall see All times, how they Are lost i' th' sea Of vast eternity.

Where never moon shall sway The stars; but she And night shall be Drown'd in one endless day.

59. TO HIS SAVIOUR, A CHILD: A PRESENT BY A CHILD.

Go, pretty child, and bear this flower Unto thy little Saviour; And tell Him, by that bud now blown, He is the Rose of Sharon known. When thou hast said so, stick it there Upon His bib or stomacher; And tell Him, for good handsel too, That thou hast brought a whistle new, Made of a clean strait oaten reed, To charm His cries at time of need. Tell Him, for coral, thou hast none, But if thou hadst, He should have one; But poor thou art, and known to be Even as moneyless as He. Lastly, if thou canst win a kiss From those mellifluous lips of His; Then never take a second on, To spoil the first impression.

_Handsel_, earnest money.

60. THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.

Let others look for pearl and gold, Tissues, or tabbies manifold: One only lock of that sweet hay Whereon the blessed baby lay, Or one poor swaddling-clout, shall be The richest New-Year's gift to me.

_Tabbies_, shot silks.

61. TO GOD.

If anything delight me for to print My book, 'tis this: that Thou, my God, art in't.

62. GOD AND THE KING.

How am I bound to Two! God, who doth give The mind; the king, the means whereby I live.

63. GOD'S MIRTH: MAN'S MOURNING.

Where God is merry, there write down thy fears: What He with laughter speaks, hear thou with tears.

64. HONOURS ARE HINDRANCES.

Give me honours! what are these, But the pleasing hindrances? Stiles, and stops, and stays that come In the way 'twixt me and home; Clear the walk, and then shall I To my heaven less run than fly.

65. THE PARASCEVE, OR PREPARATION.

To a love-feast we both invited are: The figur'd damask, or pure diaper, Over the golden altar now is spread, With bread, and wine, and vessels furnished; The sacred towel and the holy ewer Are ready by, to make the guests all pure: Let's go, my Alma; yet, ere we receive, Fit, fit it is we have our parasceve. Who to that sweet bread unprepar'd doth come, Better be starv'd, than but to taste one crumb.

_Parasceve_, preparation.

66. TO GOD.

God gives not only corn for need, But likewise sup'rabundant seed; Bread for our service, bread for show, Meat for our meals, and fragments too: He gives not poorly, taking some Between the finger and the thumb; But for our glut and for our store, Fine flour press'd down, and running o'er.

67. A WILL TO BE WORKING.

Although we cannot turn the fervent fit Of sin, we must strive 'gainst the stream of it; And howsoe'er we have the conquest miss'd, 'Tis for our glory that we did resist.

68. CHRIST'S PART.

Christ, He requires still, wheresoe'er He comes To feed or lodge, to have the best of rooms: Give Him the choice; grant Him the nobler part Of all the house: the best of all's the heart.

69. RICHES AND POVERTY.

God could have made all rich, or all men poor; But why He did not, let me tell wherefore: Had all been rich, where then had patience been? Had all been poor, who had His bounty seen?

70. SOBRIETY IN SEARCH.

To seek of God more than we well can find, Argues a strong distemper of the mind.

71. ALMS.

Give, if thou canst, an alms; if not, afford, Instead of that, a sweet and gentle word: _God crowns our goodness wheresoe'er He sees, On our part, wanting all abilities_.

72. TO HIS CONSCIENCE.

Can I not sin, but thou wilt be My private protonotary? Can I not woo thee to pass by A short and sweet iniquity? I'll cast a mist and cloud upon My delicate transgression So utter dark as that no eye Shall see the hugg'd impiety; Gifts blind the wise, and bribes do please And wind all other witnesses; And wilt not thou with gold be ti'd To lay thy pen and ink aside? That in the mirk and tongueless night Wanton I may, and thou not write? It will not be. And, therefore, now, For times to come I'll make this vow, From aberrations to live free; So I'll not fear the Judge or thee.

_Protonotary_, once the title of the chief clerk in the Courts of Common Pleas and King's Bench.

73. TO HIS SAVIOUR.

Lord, I confess, that Thou alone art able To purify this my Augean stable: Be the seas water, and the land all soap, Yet if Thy blood not wash me, there's no hope.

74. TO GOD.

God is all sufferance here; here He doth show No arrow nockt, only a stringless bow: His arrows fly, and all His stones are hurl'd Against the wicked in another world.

_Nockt_, placed ready for shooting.

75. HIS DREAM.

I dreamt, last night, Thou didst transfuse Oil from Thy jar into my cruse; And pouring still Thy wealthy store, The vessel full did then run o'er; Methought I did Thy bounty chide To see the waste; but 'twas replied By Thee, dear God, God gives man seed Ofttimes for waste, as for his need. Then I could say that house is bare That has not bread and some to spare.

76. GOD'S BOUNTY.

God's bounty, that ebbs less and less As men do wane in thankfulness.

77. TO HIS SWEET SAVIOUR.

Night hath no wings to him that cannot sleep, And time seems then not for to fly, but creep; Slowly her chariot drives, as if that she Had broke her wheel, or crack'd her axletree. Just so it is with me, who, list'ning, pray The winds to blow the tedious night away, That I might see the cheerful, peeping day. Sick is my heart! O Saviour! do Thou please To make my bed soft in my sicknesses: Lighten my candle, so that I beneath Sleep not for ever in the vaults of death; Let me Thy voice betimes i' th' morning hear: Call, and I'll come; say Thou the when, and where. Draw me but first, and after Thee I'll run And make no one stop till my race be done.

78. HIS CREED.

I do believe that die I must, And be return'd from out my dust: I do believe that when I rise, Christ I shall see, with these same eyes: I do believe that I must come, With others, to the dreadful doom: I do believe the bad must go From thence, to everlasting woe: I do believe the good, and I, Shall live with Him eternally: I do believe I shall inherit Heaven, by Christ's mercies, not my merit. I do believe the One in Three, And Three in perfect unity: Lastly, that JESUS is a deed Of gift from God: and here's my creed.

79. TEMPTATIONS.

Temptations hurt not, though they have access: Satan o'ercomes none, but by willingness.

80. THE LAMP.

When a man's faith is frozen up, as dead; Then is the lamp and oil extinguished.

81. SORROWS.

Sorrows our portion are: ere hence we go, Crosses we must have; or, hereafter woe.

82. PENITENCY.

A man's transgressions God does then remit, When man He makes a penitent for it.

83. THE DIRGE OF JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER: SUNG BY THE VIRGINS.

O thou, the wonder of all days! O paragon, and pearl of praise! O virgin-martyr, ever blest Above the rest Of all the maiden train! We come, And bring fresh strewings to thy tomb.

Thus, thus, and thus we compass round Thy harmless and unhaunted ground; And as we sing thy dirge, we will The daffodil And other flowers lay upon The altar of our love, thy stone.

Thou wonder of all maids, liest here. Of daughters all the dearest dear; The eye of virgins; nay, the queen Of this smooth green, And all sweet meads; from whence we get The primrose and the violet.

Too soon, too dear did Jephthah buy, By thy sad loss, our liberty: His was the bond and cov'nant, yet Thou paid'st the debt: Lamented maid! he won the day, But for the conquest thou didst pay.

Thy father brought with him along The olive branch and victor's song: He slew the Ammonites, we know, But to thy woe; And in the purchase of our peace, The cure was worse than the disease.

For which obedient zeal of thine, We offer here, before thy shrine, Our sighs for storax, tears for wine; And to make fine And fresh thy hearse-cloth, we will, here, Four times bestrew thee ev'ry year.

Receive, for this thy praise, our tears: Receive this offering of our hairs: Receive these crystal vials fill'd With tears distill'd From teeming eyes; to these we bring, Each maid, her silver filleting,

To gild thy tomb; besides, these cauls, These laces, ribbons, and these falls, These veils, wherewith we use to hide The bashful bride, When we conduct her to her groom: And all we lay upon thy tomb.

No more, no more, since thou art dead, Shall we e'er bring coy brides to bed; No more, at yearly festivals We cowslip balls Or chains of columbines shall make For this or that occasion's sake.

No, no; our maiden pleasures be Wrapp'd in the winding-sheet with thee: 'Tis we are dead, though not i' th' grave: Or, if we have One seed of life left, 'tis to keep A Lent for thee, to fast and weep.

Sleep in thy peace, thy bed of spice, And make this place all paradise: May sweets grow here: and smoke from hence Fat frankincense: Let balm and cassia send their scent From out thy maiden-monument.

May no wolf howl, or screech-owl stir A wing about thy sepulchre! No boisterous winds, or storms, come hither To starve or wither Thy soft sweet earth! but, like a spring, Love keep it ever flourishing.

May all shy maids, at wonted hours, Come forth to strew thy tomb with flow'rs: May virgins, when they come to mourn, Male-incense burn Upon thine altar! then return, And leave thee sleeping in thy urn.

_Cauls_, nets for the hair. _Falls_, trimmings hanging loosely. _Male-incense_, incense in globular drops.

84. TO GOD: ON HIS SICKNESS.

What though my harp and viol be Both hung upon the willow tree? What though my bed be now my grave, And for my house I darkness have? What though my healthful days are fled, And I lie number'd with the dead? Yet I have hope, by Thy great power, To spring; though now a wither'd flower.

85. SINS LOATHED, AND YET LOVED.

_Shame checks our first attempts_; but then 'tis prov'd _Sins first dislik'd are after that belov'd_.

86. SIN.

Sin leads the way, but as it goes, it feels The following plague still treading on his heels.

87. UPON GOD.

God, when He takes my goods and chattels hence, Gives me a portion, giving patience: What is in God is God; if so it be He patience gives, He gives Himself to me.

88. FAITH.

What here we hope for, we shall once inherit; By faith we all walk here, not by the Spirit.

89. HUMILITY.

Humble we must be, if to heaven we go: High is the roof there; but the gate is low: Whene'er thou speak'st, look with a lowly eye: Grace is increased by humility.

90. TEARS.

Our present tears here, not our present laughter, Are but the handsels of our joys hereafter.

_Handsels_, earnest money, foretaste.

91. SIN AND STRIFE.

After true sorrow for our sins, our strife Must last with Satan to the end of life.

92. AN ODE, OR PSALM TO GOD.

Dear God, If Thy smart rod Here did not make me sorry, I should not be With Thine or Thee In Thy eternal glory.

But since Thou didst convince My sins by gently striking; Add still to those First stripes new blows, According to Thy liking.

Fear me, Or scourging tear me; That thus from vices driven, I may from hell Fly up to dwell With Thee and Thine in heaven.

93. GRACES FOR CHILDREN.

What God gives, and what we take, 'Tis a gift for Christ, His sake: Be the meal of beans and peas, God be thanked for those and these: Have we flesh, or have we fish, All are fragments from His dish. He His Church save, and the king; And our peace here, like a spring, Make it ever flourishing.

94. GOD TO BE FIRST SERVED.

Honour thy parents; but good manners call Thee to adore thy God the first of all.

95. ANOTHER GRACE FOR A CHILD.

Here a little child I stand Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benison to fall On our meat and on us all. Amen.

_Paddocks_, frogs.

96. A CHRISTMAS CAROL SUNG TO THE KING IN THE PRESENCE AT WHITEHALL.

_Chor._ What sweeter music can we bring, Than a carol for to sing The birth of this our heavenly King? Awake the voice! awake the string! Heart, ear, and eye, and everything Awake! the while the active finger Runs division with the singer.

_FROM THE FLOURISH THEY CAME TO THE SONG._

1. Dark and dull night, fly hence away And give the honour to this day That sees December turn'd to May.

2. If we may ask the reason, say The why and wherefore all things here Seem like the spring-time of the year.

3. Why does the chilling winter's morn Smile like a field beset with corn? Or smell like to a mead new shorn, Thus, on the sudden?

4. Come and see The cause, why things thus fragrant be: 'Tis He is born, whose quick'ning birth Gives life and lustre, public mirth, To heaven and the under-earth.

_Chor._ We see Him come, and know Him ours, Who, with His sunshine and His showers, Turns all the patient ground to flowers.

1. The darling of the world is come, And fit it is we find a room To welcome Him. 2. The nobler part Of all the house here is the heart,

_Chor._ Which we will give Him; and bequeath This holly and this ivy wreath, To do Him honour; who's our King, And Lord of all this revelling.

_The musical part was composed by M. Henry Lawes._

_Division_, a rapid passage of music sung in one breath or a single syllable.

97. THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT: OR, CIRCUMCISION'S SONG. SUNG TO THE KING IN THE PRESENCE AT WHITEHALL.

1. Prepare for songs; He's come, He's come; And be it sin here to be dumb, And not with lutes to fill the room.

2. Cast holy water all about, And have a care no fire goes out, But 'cense the porch and place throughout.

3. The altars all on fire be; The storax fries; and ye may see How heart and hand do all agree To make things sweet. _Chor._ Yet all less sweet than He.

4. Bring Him along, most pious priest, And tell us then, whenas thou seest His gently-gliding, dove-like eyes, And hear'st His whimpering and His cries; How can'st thou this Babe circumcise?

5. Ye must not be more pitiful than wise; For, now unless ye see Him bleed, Which makes the bapti'm, 'tis decreed The birth is fruitless. _Chor._ Then the work God speed.

1. Touch gently, gently touch; and here Spring tulips up through all the year; And from His sacred blood, here shed, May roses grow to crown His own dear head.

_Chor._ Back, back again; each thing is done With zeal alike, as 'twas begun; Now singing, homeward let us carry The Babe unto His mother Mary; And when we have the Child commended To her warm bosom, then our rites are ended. _Composed by M. Henry Lawes._

98. ANOTHER NEW-YEAR'S GIFT: OR, SONG FOR THE CIRCUMCISION.

1. Hence, hence profane, and none appear With anything unhallowed here; No jot of leaven must be found Conceal'd in this most holy ground.

2. What is corrupt, or sour'd with sin, Leave that without, then enter in;

_Chor._ But let no Christmas mirth begin Before ye purge and circumcise Your hearts, and hands, lips, ears, and eyes.

3. Then, like a perfum'd altar, see That all things sweet and clean may be: For here's a Babe that, like a bride, Will blush to death if ought be spi'd Ill-scenting, or unpurifi'd.

_Chor._ The room is 'cens'd: help, help t' invoke Heaven to come down, the while we choke The temple with a cloud of smoke.

4. Come then, and gently touch the birth Of Him, who's Lord of Heaven and Earth:

5. And softly handle Him; y'ad need, Because the pretty Babe does bleed. Poor pitied Child! who from Thy stall Bring'st, in Thy blood, a balm that shall Be the best New-Year's gift to all.

1. Let's bless the Babe: and, as we sing His praise, so let us bless the King.

_Chor._ Long may He live till He hath told His New-Years trebled to His old: And when that's done, to re-aspire A new-born Phœnix from His own chaste fire.

99. GOD'S PARDON.

When I shall sin, pardon my trespass here; For once in hell, none knows remission there.

100. SIN.

Sin once reached up to God's eternal sphere, And was committed, not remitted there.

101. EVIL.

Evil no nature hath; the loss of good Is that which gives to sin a livelihood.

102. THE STAR-SONG: A CAROL TO THE KING SUNG AT WHITEHALL.

_The Flourish of Music; then followed the Song._

1. Tell us, thou clear and heavenly tongue, Where is the Babe but lately sprung? Lies he the lily-banks among?

2. Or say, if this new Birth of ours Sleeps, laid within some ark of flowers, Spangled with dew-light; thou canst clear All doubts, and manifest the where.

3. Declare to us, bright star, if we shall seek Him in the morning's blushing cheek, Or search the beds of spices through, To find him out.

_Star._ No, this ye need not do; But only come and see Him rest A Princely Babe in's mother's breast.

_Chor._ He's seen, He's seen! why then a round, Let's kiss the sweet and holy ground; And all rejoice that we have found _A King before conception crown'd_.

4. Come then, come then, and let us bring Unto our pretty Twelfth-tide King, Each one his several offering;

_Chor._ And when night comes, we'll give Him wassailing; And that His treble honours may be seen, We'll choose Him King, and make His mother Queen.

103. TO GOD.

With golden censers, and with incense, here Before Thy virgin-altar I appear, To pay Thee that I owe, since what I see In, or without, all, all belongs to Thee. Where shall I now begin to make, for one Least loan of Thine, half restitution? Alas! I cannot pay a jot; therefore I'll kiss the tally, and confess the score. Ten thousand talents lent me, Thou dost write; 'Tis true, my God, but I can't pay one mite.

_Tally_, the record of his score or debt.

104. TO HIS DEAR GOD.

I'll hope no more For things that will not come; And if they do, they prove but cumbersome. Wealth brings much woe; And, since it fortunes so, 'Tis better to be poor Than so t' abound As to be drown'd Or overwhelm'd with store.

Pale care, avaunt! I'll learn to be content With that small stock Thy bounty gave or lent. What may conduce To my most healthful use, Almighty God, me grant; But that, or this, That hurtful is, Deny Thy suppliant.

105. TO GOD: HIS GOOD WILL.

Gold I have none, but I present my need, O Thou, that crown'st the will, where wants the deed. Where rams are wanting, or large bullocks' thighs, There a poor lamb's a plenteous sacrifice. Take then his vows, who, if he had it, would Devote to Thee both incense, myrrh and gold Upon an altar rear'd by him, and crown'd Both with the ruby, pearl, and diamond.

106. ON HEAVEN.

Permit mine eyes to see Part, or the whole of Thee, O happy place! Where all have grace, And garlands shar'd, For their reward; Where each chaste soul In long white stole, And palms in hand, Do ravish'd stand; So in a ring, The praises sing Of Three in One That fill the Throne; While harps and viols then To voices say, Amen.

107. THE SUM AND THE SATISFACTION.

Last night I drew up mine account, And found my debits to amount To such a height, as for to tell How I should pay 's impossible. Well, this I'll do: my mighty score Thy mercy-seat I'll lay before; But therewithal I'll bring the band Which, in full force, did daring stand Till my Redeemer, on the tree, Made void for millions, as for me. Then, if thou bidst me pay, or go Unto the prison, I'll say, no; Christ having paid, I nothing owe: For, this is sure, the debt is dead By law, the bond once cancelled.

_Score_, debt or reckoning. _Band_, bond. _Daring_, frightening.

108. GOOD MEN AFFLICTED MOST.

God makes not good men wantons, but doth bring Them to the field, and, there, to skirmishing. With trials those, with terrors these He proves, And hazards those most whom the most He loves; For Sceva, darts; for Cocles, dangers; thus He finds a fire for mighty Mutius; Death for stout Cato; and besides all these, A poison, too, He has for Socrates; Torments for high Attilius; and, with want, Brings in Fabricius for a combatant: But bastard-slips, and such as He dislikes, He never brings them once to th' push of pikes.

109. GOOD CHRISTIANS

Play their offensive and defensive parts, Till they be hid o'er with a wood of darts.

110. THE WILL THE CAUSE OF WOE.

When man is punish'd, he is plagued still, Not for the fault of nature, but of will.

111. TO HEAVEN.

Open thy gates To him, who weeping waits, And might come in, But that held back by sin. Let mercy be So kind to set me free, And I will straight Come in, or force the gate.

112. THE RECOMPENSE.

All I have lost that could be rapt from me; And fare it well: yet, Herrick, if so be Thy dearest Saviour renders thee but one Smile, that one smile's full restitution.

113. TO GOD.

Pardon me, God, once more I Thee entreat, That I have placed Thee in so mean a seat Where round about Thou seest but all things vain, Uncircumcis'd, unseason'd and profane. But as Heaven's public and immortal eye Looks on the filth, but is not soil'd thereby, So Thou, my God, may'st on this impure look, But take no tincture from my sinful book: Let but one beam of glory on it shine, And that will make me and my work divine.

114. TO GOD.

Lord, I am like to mistletoe, Which has no root, and cannot grow Or prosper but by that same tree It clings about; so I by Thee. What need I then to fear at all, So long as I about Thee crawl? But if that tree should fall and die, Tumble shall heav'n, and down will I.

115. HIS WISH TO GOD.

I would to God that mine old age might have Before my last, but here a living grave, Some one poor almshouse; there to lie, or stir Ghostlike, as in my meaner sepulchre; A little piggin and a pipkin by, To hold things fitting my necessity, Which rightly used, both in their time and place, Might me excite to fore and after-grace. Thy Cross, my Christ, fix'd 'fore mine eyes should be, Not to adore that, but to worship Thee. So, here the remnant of my days I'd spend, Reading Thy Bible, and my Book; so end.

_Piggin_, a small wooden vessel.

116. SATAN.

When we 'gainst Satan stoutly fight, the more He tears and tugs us than he did before; Neglecting once to cast a frown on those Whom ease makes his without the help of blows.

117. HELL.

Hell is no other but a soundless pit, Where no one beam of comfort peeps in it.

118. THE WAY.

When I a ship see on the seas, Cuff'd with those wat'ry savages, And therewithal behold it hath In all that way no beaten path, Then, with a wonder, I confess Thou art our way i' th' wilderness; And while we blunder in the dark, Thou art our candle there, or spark.

119. GREAT GRIEF, GREAT GLORY.

The less our sorrows here and suff'rings cease, The more our crowns of glory there increase.

120. HELL.

Hell is the place where whipping-cheer abounds, But no one jailer there to wash the wounds.

121. THE BELLMAN.

Along the dark and silent night, With my lantern and my light, And the tinkling of my bell, Thus I walk, and this I tell: Death and dreadfulness call on To the gen'ral session, To whose dismal bar we there All accounts must come to clear. Scores of sins w'ave made here many, Wip'd out few, God knows, if any. Rise, ye debtors, then, and fall To make payment while I call. Ponder this, when I am gone; By the clock 'tis almost one.

122. THE GOODNESS OF HIS GOD.

When winds and seas do rage And threaten to undo me, Thou dost, their wrath assuage If I but call unto Thee.

A mighty storm last night Did seek my soul to swallow, But by the peep of light A gentle calm did follow.

What need I then despair, Though ills stand round about me; Since mischiefs neither dare To bark or bite without Thee?

123. THE WIDOWS' TEARS: OR, DIRGE OF DORCAS.

Come pity us, all ye who see Our harps hung on the willow tree: Come pity us, ye passers-by Who see or hear poor widows cry: Come pity us; and bring your ears And eyes to pity widows' tears. _Chor._ And when you are come hither Then we will keep A fast, and weep Our eyes out altogether.

For Tabitha, who dead lies here, Clean washed, and laid out for the bier, O modest matrons, weep and wail! For now the corn and wine must fail: The basket and the bin of bread, Wherewith so many souls were fed, _Chor._ Stand empty here for ever: And ah! the poor At thy worn door Shall be relieved never.

Woe worth the time, woe worth the day That 'reaved us of thee, Tabitha! For we have lost with thee the meal, The bits, the morsels, and the deal Of gentle paste and yielding dough That thou on widows did'st bestow. _Chor._ All's gone, and death hath taken Away from us Our maundy; thus Thy widows stand forsaken.

Ah, Dorcas, Dorcas! now adieu We bid the cruse and pannier too: Ay, and the flesh, for and the fish Doled to us in that lordly dish. We take our leaves now of the loom From whence the housewives' cloth did come: _Chor._ The web affords now nothing; Thou being dead, The worsted thread Is cut, that made us clothing.

Farewell the flax and reaming wool With which thy house was plentiful; Farewell the coats, the garments, and The sheets, the rugs, made by thy hand; Farewell thy fire and thy light That ne'er went out by day or night: _Chor._ No, or thy zeal so speedy, That found a way By peep of day, To feed and cloth the needy.

But, ah, alas! the almond bough And olive branch is withered now. The wine press now is ta'en from us, The saffron and the calamus. The spice and spikenard hence is gone, The storax and the cinnamon. _Chor._ The carol of our gladness Has taken wing, And our late spring Of mirth is turned to sadness.

How wise wast thou in all thy ways! How worthy of respect and praise! How matron-like didst thou go dressed! How soberly above the rest Of those that prank it with their plumes, And jet it with their choice perfumes! _Chor._ Thy vestures were not flowing: Nor did the street Accuse thy feet Of mincing in their going.

And though thou here li'st dead, we see A deal of beauty yet in thee. How sweetly shows thy smiling face, Thy lips with all-diffused grace! Thy hands, though cold, yet spotless white, And comely as the chrysolite! _Chor._ Thy belly like a hill is, Or as a neat Clean heap of wheat, All set about with lilies.

Sleep with thy beauties here, while we Will show these garments made by thee; These were the coats, in these are read The monuments of Dorcas dead. These were thy acts, and thou shall have These hung as honours o'er thy grave; _Chor._ And after us, distressed, Should fame be dumb, Thy very tomb Would cry out, Thou art blessed.

_Deal_, portion. _Maundy_, the alms given on Thursday in Holy Week. _Reaming_, drawing out into threads. _Calamus_, a fragrant plant, the sweet flag. _Chrysolite_, the topaz.

124. TO GOD IN TIME OF PLUNDERING.

Rapine has yet took nought from me; But if it please my God I be Brought at the last to th' utmost bit, God make me thankful still for it. I have been grateful for my store: Let me say grace when there's no more.

125. TO HIS SAVIOUR. THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.

That little pretty bleeding part Of foreskin send to me: And I'll return a bleeding heart For New-Year's gift to Thee.

Rich is the gem that Thou did'st send, Mine's faulty too and small; But yet this gift Thou wilt commend Because I send Thee all.

126. DOOMSDAY.

Let not that day God's friends and servants scare; The bench is then their place, and not the bar.

127. THE POOR'S PORTION.

The sup'rabundance of my store, That is the portion of the poor: Wheat, barley, rye, or oats; what is't But He takes toll of? all the grist. Two raiments have I: Christ then makes This law; that He and I part stakes. Or have I two loaves, then I use The poor to cut, and I to choose.

128. THE WHITE ISLAND: OR, PLACE OF THE BLEST.

In this world, the isle of dreams, While we sit by sorrow's streams, Tears and terrors are our themes Reciting:

But when once from hence we fly, More and more approaching nigh Unto young Eternity Uniting:

In that whiter island, where Things are evermore sincere; Candour here, and lustre there Delighting:

There no monstrous fancies shall Out of hell an horror call, To create, or cause at all, Affrighting.

There in calm and cooling sleep We our eyes shall never steep; But eternal watch shall keep, Attending

Pleasures, such as shall pursue Me immortalised, and you; And fresh joys, as never to Have ending.

129. TO CHRIST.

I crawl, I creep; my Christ, I come To Thee for curing balsamum: Thou hast, nay more, Thou art the tree Affording salve of sovereignty. My mouth I'll lay unto Thy wound Bleeding, that no blood touch the ground: For, rather than one drop shall fall To waste, my JESU, I'll take all.

130. TO GOD.

God! to my little meal and oil Add but a bit of flesh to boil: And Thou my pipkinet shalt see, Give a wave-off'ring unto Thee.

131. FREE WELCOME.

God He refuseth no man, but makes way For all that now come or hereafter may.

132. GOD'S GRACE.

God's grace deserves here to be daily fed That, thus increased, it might be perfected.

133. COMING TO CHRIST.

To him who longs unto his Christ to go, Celerity even itself is slow.

134. CORRECTION.

God had but one Son free from sin; but none Of all His sons free from correction.

135. GOD'S BOUNTY.

God, as He's potent, so He's likewise known To give us more than hope can fix upon.

136. KNOWLEDGE.

Science in God is known to be A substance, not a quality.

137. SALUTATION.

Christ, I have read, did to His chaplains say, Sending them forth, Salute no man by th' way: Not that He taught His ministers to be Unsmooth or sour to all civility, But to instruct them to avoid all snares Of tardidation in the Lord's affairs. Manners are good; but till His errand ends, Salute we must nor strangers, kin, or friends.

_Tardidation_, sloth.

138. LASCIVIOUSNESS.

Lasciviousness is known to be The sister to saturity.

139. TEARS.

God from our eyes all tears hereafter wipes, And gives His children kisses then, not stripes.

140. GOD'S BLESSING.

In vain our labours are whatsoe'er they be, Unless God gives the benedicite.

141. GOD, AND LORD.

God is His name of nature; but that word Implies His power when He's called the Lord.

142. THE JUDGMENT-DAY.

God hides from man the reck'ning day, that he May fear it ever for uncertainty; That being ignorant of that one, he may Expect the coming of it every day.

143. ANGELS.

Angels are called gods; yet of them, none Are gods but by participation: As just men are entitled gods, yet none Are gods of them but by adoption.

144. LONG LIFE.

The longer thread of life we spin, The more occasion still to sin.

145. TEARS.

The tears of saints more sweet by far Than all the songs of sinners are.

146. MANNA.

That manna, which God on His people cast, Fitted itself to ev'ry feeder's taste.

147. REVERENCE.

True rev'rence is, as Cassiodore doth prove, The fear of God commix'd with cleanly love.

_Cassiodore_, Marcus Aurelius Cassiodorus, theologian and statesman 497-575?

148. MERCY.

Mercy, the wise Athenians held to be Not an affection, but a deity.

149. WAGES.

After this life, the wages shall Not shared alike be unto all.

150. TEMPTATION.

God tempteth no one, as St. Austin saith, For any ill, but for the proof of faith; Unto temptation God exposeth some, But none of purpose to be overcome.

151. GOD'S HANDS.

God's hands are round and smooth, that gifts may fall Freely from them and hold none back at all.

152. LABOUR.

Labour we must, and labour hard I' th' forum here, or vineyard.

153. MORA SPONSI, THE STAY OF THE BRIDEGROOM.

The time the bridegroom stays from hence Is but the time of penitence.

154. ROARING.

Roaring is nothing but a weeping part Forced from the mighty dolour of the heart.

155. THE EUCHARIST.

_He that is hurt seeks help_: sin is the wound; The salve for this i' th' Eucharist is found.

156. SIN SEVERELY PUNISHED.

God in His own day will be then severe To punish great sins, who small faults whipt here.

157. MONTES SCRIPTURARUM: THE MOUNTS OF THE SCRIPTURES.

The mountains of the Scriptures are, some say, Moses, and Jesus, called Joshua: The prophets, mountains of the Old are meant, Th' apostles, mounts of the New Testament.

158. PRAYER.

A prayer that is said alone Starves, having no companion. Great things ask for when thou dost pray, And those great are which ne'er decay. Pray not for silver, rust eats this; Ask not for gold, which metal is; Nor yet for houses, which are here But earth: _such vows ne'er reach God's ear_.

159. CHRIST'S SADNESS.

Christ was not sad, i' th' garden, for His own Passion, but for His sheep's dispersion.

160. GOD HEARS US.

God, who's in heaven, will hear from thence; If not to th' sound, yet to the sense.

161. GOD.

God, as the learned Damascene doth write, A sea of substance is, indefinite.

_The learned Damascene_, _i.e._, St. John of Damascus.

162. CLOUDS.

He that ascended in a cloud, shall come In clouds descending to the public doom.

163. COMFORTS IN CONTENTIONS.

The same who crowns the conqueror, will be A coadjutor in the agony.

164. HEAVEN.

Heaven is most fair; but fairer He That made that fairest canopy.

165. GOD.

In God there's nothing, but 'tis known to be Even God Himself, in perfect entity.

166. HIS POWER.

God can do all things, save but what are known For to imply a contradiction.

167. CHRIST'S WORDS ON THE CROSS: MY GOD, MY GOD.

Christ, when He hung the dreadful cross upon, Had, as it were, a dereliction In this regard, in those great terrors He Had no one beam from God's sweet majesty.

_Dereliction_, abandonment.

168. JEHOVAH.

Jehovah, as Boëtius saith, No number of the plural hath.

169. CONFUSION OF FACE.

God then confounds man's face when He not bears The vows of those who are petitioners.

170. ANOTHER.

The shame of man's face is no more Than prayers repell'd, says Cassiodore.

171. BEGGARS.

Jacob God's beggar was; and so we wait, Though ne'er so rich, all beggars at His gate.

172. GOOD AND BAD.

The bad among the good are here mix'd ever; The good without the bad are here plac'd never.

173. SIN.

_Sin no existence; nature none it hath, Or good at all_, as learned Aquinas saith.

174. MARTHA, MARTHA.

The repetition of the name made known No other than Christ's full affection.

175. YOUTH AND AGE.

God on our youth bestows but little ease; But on our age most sweet indulgences.

176. GOD'S POWER.

God is so potent, as His power can Draw out of bad a sovereign good to man.

177. PARADISE.

Paradise is, as from the learn'd I gather, _A choir of bless'd souls circling in the Father_.

178. OBSERVATION.

The Jews, when they built houses, I have read, One part thereof left still unfinished, To make them thereby mindful of their own City's most sad and dire destruction.

179. THE ASS.

God did forbid the Israelites to bring An ass unto Him for an offering, Only, by this dull creature, to express His detestation to all slothfulness.

180. OBSERVATION.

The Virgin Mother stood at distance, there, From her Son's cross, not shedding once a tear, Because the law forbad to sit and cry For those who did as malefactors die. So she, to keep her mighty woes in awe, Tortured her love not to transgress the law. Observe we may, how Mary Joses then, And th' other Mary, Mary Magdalen, Sat by the grave; and sadly sitting there, Shed for their Master many a bitter tear; But 'twas not till their dearest Lord was dead And then to weep they both were licensed.

181. TAPERS.

Those tapers which we set upon the grave In fun'ral pomp, but this importance have: That souls departed are not put out quite; But as they walked here in their vestures white, So live in heaven in everlasting light.

182. CHRIST'S BIRTH.

One birth our Saviour had; the like none yet Was, or will be a second like to it.

183. THE VIRGIN MARY.

To work a wonder, God would have her shown At once a bud and yet a rose full-blown.

184. ANOTHER.

As sunbeams pierce the glass, and streaming in, No crack or schism leave i' th' subtle skin: So the Divine Hand worked and brake no thread, But, in a mother, kept a maidenhead.

185. GOD.

God, in the holy tongue, they call The place that filleth all in all.

186. ANOTHER OF GOD.

God's said to leave this place, and for to come Nearer to that place than to other some, Of local motion, in no least respect, But only by impression of effect.

187. ANOTHER.

God is Jehovah call'd: which name of His Implies or Essence, or the He that Is.

188. GOD'S PRESENCE.

God's evident, and may be said to be Present with just men, to the verity; But with the wicked if He doth comply, 'Tis, as St. Bernard saith, but seemingly.

189. GOD'S DWELLING.

God's said to dwell there, wheresoever He Puts down some prints of His high Majesty; As when to man He comes, and there doth place His Holy Spirit, or doth plant His Grace.

190. THE VIRGIN MARY.

The Virgin Mary was, as I have read, The House of God, by Christ inhabited; Into the which He entered, but, the door Once shut, was never to be open'd more.

191. TO GOD.

God's undivided, One in Persons Three, And Three in inconfused unity. Original of Essence there is none, 'Twixt God the Father, Holy Ghost, and Son: And though the Father be the first of Three, 'Tis but by order, not by entity.

192. UPON WOMAN AND MARY.

So long, it seem'd, as Mary's faith was small, Christ did her woman, not her Mary call; But no more woman, being strong in faith, But Mary call'd then, as St. Ambrose saith.

193. NORTH AND SOUTH.

The Jews their beds and offices of ease, Placed north and south for these clean purposes; That man's uncomely froth might not molest God's ways and walks, which lie still east and west.

194. SABBATHS.

Sabbaths are threefold, as St. Austin says: The first of time, or Sabbath here of days; The second is a conscience trespass-free; The last the Sabbath of Eternity.

195. THE FAST, OR LENT.

Noah the first was, as tradition says, That did ordain the fast of forty days.

196. SIN.

There is no evil that we do commit, But hath th' extraction of some good from it: As when we sin, God, the great Chemist, thence Draws out th' elixir of true penitence.

197. GOD.

God is more here than in another place, Not by His essence, but commerce of grace.

198. THIS, AND THE NEXT WORLD.

God hath this world for many made, 'tis true: But He hath made the World to Come for few.

199. EASE.

God gives to none so absolute an ease As not to know or feel some grievances.

200. BEGINNINGS AND ENDINGS.

Paul, he began ill, but he ended well; Judas began well, but he foully fell: In godliness not the beginnings so Much as the ends are to be look'd unto.

201. TEMPORAL GOODS.

These temporal goods God, the most wise, commends To th' good and bad in common for two ends: First, that these goods none here may o'er-esteem Because the wicked do partake of them; Next, that these ills none cowardly may shun, Being, oft here, the just man's portion.

202. HELL FIRE.

The fire of hell this strange condition hath, To burn, not shine, as learned Basil saith.

203. ABEL'S BLOOD.

Speak, did the blood of Abel cry To God for vengeance? Yes, say I, Ev'n as the sprinkled blood called on God for an expiation.

204. ANOTHER.

The blood of Abel was a thing Of such a rev'rend reckoning, As that the old world thought it fit Especially to swear by it.

205. A POSITION IN THE HEBREW DIVINITY.

One man repentant is of more esteem With God, than one that never sinned 'gainst Him.

206. PENITENCE.

The doctors, in the Talmud, say, That in this world one only day In true repentance spent will be More worth than heaven's eternity.

207. GOD'S PRESENCE.

God's present everywhere, but most of all Present by union hypostatical: God, He is there, where's nothing else, schools say, And nothing else is there where He's away.

_Hypostatical_, personal.

208. THE RESURRECTION POSSIBLE AND PROBABLE.

For each one body that i' th' earth is sown, There's an uprising but of one for one; But for each grain that in the ground is thrown, Threescore or fourscore spring up thence for one: So that the wonder is not half so great Of ours as is the rising of the wheat.

209. CHRIST'S SUFFERING.

Justly our dearest Saviour may abhor us, Who hath more suffered by us far, than for us.

210. SINNERS.

Sinners confounded are a twofold way, Either as when, the learned schoolmen say, Men's sins destroyed are when they repent, Or when, for sins, men suffer punishment.

211. TEMPTATIONS.

No man is tempted so but may o'ercome, If that he has a will to masterdom.

212. PITY AND PUNISHMENT.

God doth embrace the good with love; and gains The good by mercy, as the bad by pains.

213. GOD'S PRICE AND MAN'S PRICE.

God bought man here with His heart's blood expense; And man sold God here for base thirty pence.

214. CHRIST'S ACTION.

Christ never did so great a work but there His human nature did in part appear; Or ne'er so mean a piece but men might see Therein some beams of His Divinity: So that in all He did there did combine His human nature and His part divine.

215. PREDESTINATION.

Predestination is the cause alone Of many standing, but of fall to none.

216. ANOTHER.

Art thou not destin'd? then with haste go on To make thy fair predestination: If thou can'st change thy life, God then will please To change, or call back, His past sentences.

217. SIN.

Sin never slew a soul unless there went Along with it some tempting blandishment.

218. ANOTHER.

Sin is an act so free, that if we shall Say 'tis not free, 'tis then no sin at all.

219. ANOTHER.

Sin is the cause of death; and sin's alone The cause of God's predestination: And from God's prescience of man's sin doth flow Our destination to eternal woe.

220. PRESCIENCE.

God's prescience makes none sinful; but th' offence Of man's the chief cause of God's prescience.

221. CHRIST.

To all our wounds here, whatsoe'er they be, Christ is the one sufficient remedy.

222. CHRIST'S INCARNATION.

Christ took our nature on Him, not that He 'Bove all things loved it for the purity: No, but He dress'd Him with our human trim, Because our flesh stood most in need of Him.

223. HEAVEN.

Heaven is not given for our good works here; Yet it is given to the labourer.

224. GOD'S KEYS

God has four keys, which He reserves alone: The first of rain; the key of hell next known; With the third key He opes and shuts the womb; And with the fourth key he unlocks the tomb.

225. SIN.

There's no constraint to do amiss, Whereas but one enforcement is.

226. ALMS.

Give unto all, lest he, whom thou deni'st, May chance to be no other man but Christ.

227. HELL FIRE.

One only fire has hell; but yet it shall Not after one sort there excruciate all: But look, how each transgressor onward went Boldly in sin, shall feel more punishment.

228. TO KEEP A TRUE LENT.

Is this a fast, to keep The larder lean? And clean From fat of veals and sheep?

Is it to quit the dish Of flesh, yet still To fill The platter high with fish?

Is it to fast an hour, Or ragg'd to go, Or show A downcast look and sour?

No; 'tis a fast to dole Thy sheaf of wheat, And meat, Unto the hungry soul.

It is to fast from strife, From old debate And hate; To circumcise thy life.

To show a heart grief-rent; To starve thy sin, Not bin; And that's to keep thy Lent.

229. NO TIME IN ETERNITY.

By hours we all live here; in Heaven is known No spring of time, or time's succession.

230. HIS MEDITATION UPON DEATH.

Be those few hours, which I have yet to spend, Blest with the meditation of my end: Though they be few in number, I'm content: If otherwise, I stand indifferent. Nor makes it matter Nestor's years to tell, If man lives long and if he live not well. A multitude of days still heaped on, Seldom brings order, but confusion. Might I make choice, long life should be withstood; Nor would I care how short it were, if good: Which to effect, let ev'ry passing-bell Possess my thoughts, "Next comes my doleful knell": And when the night persuades me to my bed, I'll think I'm going to be buried. So shall the blankets which come over me Present those turfs which once must cover me: And with as firm behaviour I will meet The sheet I sleep in as my winding-sheet. When sleep shall bathe his body in mine eyes, I will believe that then my body dies: And if I chance to wake and rise thereon, I'll have in mind my resurrection, Which must produce me to that General Doom, To which the peasant, so the prince, must come, To hear the Judge give sentence on the throne, Without the least hope of affection. Tears, at that day, shall make but weak defence, When hell and horror fright the conscience. Let me, though late, yet at the last, begin To shun the least temptation to a sin; Though to be tempted be no sin, until Man to th' alluring object gives his will. Such let my life assure me, when my breath Goes thieving from me, I am safe in death; Which is the height of comfort: when I fall, I rise triumphant in my funeral.

_Affection_, partiality.

231. CLOTHES FOR CONTINUANCE.

Those garments lasting evermore, Are works of mercy to the poor, Which neither tettar, time, or moth Shall fray that silk or fret this cloth.

_Tettar_, scab.

232. TO GOD.

Come to me, God; but do not come To me as to the General Doom In power; or come Thou in that state When Thou Thy laws did'st promulgate, Whenas the mountain quaked for dread, And sullen clouds bound up his head. No; lay Thy stately terrors by To talk with me familiarly; For if Thy thunder-claps I hear, I shall less swoon than die for fear. Speak Thou of love and I'll reply By way of Epithalamy, Or sing of mercy and I'll suit To it my viol and my lute; Thus let Thy lips but love distil, Then come, my God, and hap what will.

_Mountain_, orig. ed. _mountains_.

233. THE SOUL.

When once the soul has lost her way, O then how restless does she stray! And having not her God for light, How does she err in endless night!

234. THE JUDGMENT-DAY.

In doing justice God shall then be known, Who showing mercy here, few prized, or none.

235. SUFFERINGS.

We merit all we suffer, and by far More stripes than God lays on the sufferer.

236. PAIN AND PLEASURE.

God suffers not His saints and servants dear To have continual pain or pleasure here; But look how night succeeds the day, so He Gives them by turns their grief and jollity.

237. GOD'S PRESENCE.

God is all-present to whate'er we do, And as all-present, so all-filling too.

238. ANOTHER.

That there's a God we all do know, But what God is we cannot show.

239. THE POOR MAN'S PART.

Tell me, rich man, for what intent Thou load'st with gold thy vestiment? Whenas the poor cry out: To us Belongs all gold superfluous.

240. THE RIGHT HAND.

God has a right hand, but is quite bereft Of that which we do nominate the left.

241. THE STAFF AND ROD.

Two instruments belong unto our God: The one a staff is and the next a rod; That if the twig should chance too much to smart, The staff might come to play the friendly part.

242. GOD SPARING IN SCOURGING.

God still rewards us more than our desert; But when He strikes, He quarter-acts His part.

243. CONFESSION.

Confession twofold is, as Austin says, The first of sin is, and the next of praise. If ill it goes with thee, thy faults confess: If well, then chant God's praise with cheerfulness.

244. GOD'S DESCENT.

God is then said for to descend, when He Doth here on earth some thing of novity; As when in human nature He works more Than ever yet the like was done before.

245. NO COMING TO GOD WITHOUT CHRIST.

Good and great God! how should I fear To come to Thee if Christ not there! Could I but think He would not be Present to plead my cause for me, To hell I'd rather run than I Would see Thy face and He not by.

246. ANOTHER TO GOD.

Though Thou be'st all that active love Which heats those ravished souls above; And though all joys spring from the glance Of Thy most winning countenance; Yet sour and grim Thou'dst seem to me If through my Christ I saw not Thee.

247. THE RESURRECTION.

That Christ did die, the pagan saith; But that He rose, that's Christians' faith.

248. CO-HEIRS.

We are co-heirs with Christ; nor shall His own Heirship be less by our adoption. The number here of heirs shall from the state Of His great birthright nothing derogate.

249. THE NUMBER OF TWO.

God hates the dual number, being known The luckless number of division; And when He bless'd each sev'ral day whereon He did His curious operation, 'Tis never read there, as the fathers say, God bless'd His work done on the second day; Wherefore two prayers ought not to be said, Or by ourselves, or from the pulpit read.

250. HARDENING OF HEARTS.

God's said our hearts to harden then, Whenas His grace not supples men.

251. THE ROSE.

Before man's fall the rose was born, St. Ambrose says, without the thorn; But for man's fault then was the thorn Without the fragrant rose-bud born; But ne'er the rose without the thorn.

252. GOD'S TIME MUST END OUR TROUBLE.

God doth not promise here to man that He Will free him quickly from his misery; But in His own time, and when He thinks fit, Then He will give a happy end to it.

253. BAPTISM.

The strength of baptism that's within, It saves the soul by drowning sin.

254. GOLD AND FRANKINCENSE.

Gold serves for tribute to the king, The frankincense for God's off'ring.

255. TO GOD.

God, who me gives a will for to repent, Will add a power to keep me innocent; That I shall ne'er that trespass recommit When I have done true penance here for it.

256. THE CHEWING THE CUD.

When well we speak and nothing do that's good, We not divide the hoof, but chew the cud; But when good words by good works have their proof, We then both chew the cud and cleave the hoof.

257. CHRIST'S TWOFOLD COMING.

Thy former coming was to cure My soul's most desp'rate calenture; Thy second advent, that must be To heal my earth's infirmity.

_Calenture_, delirium caused by excessive heat.

258. TO GOD, HIS GIFT.

As my little pot doth boil, We will keep this level-coil, That a wave and I will bring To my God a heave-offering.

_Level-coil_, the old Christmas game of changing chairs; to "keep level-coil" means to change about.

259. GOD'S ANGER.

God can't be wrathful: but we may conclude Wrathful He may be by similitude: God's wrathful said to be, when He doth do That without wrath which wrath doth force us to.

260. GOD'S COMMANDS.

In God's commands ne'er ask the reason why; Let thy obedience be the best reply.

261. TO GOD.

If I have played the truant, or have here Failed in my part, oh! Thou that art my dear, My mild, my loving tutor, Lord and God! Correct my errors gently with Thy rod. I know that faults will many here be found, But where sin swells there let Thy grace abound.

262. TO GOD.

The work is done; now let my laurel be Given by none but by Thyself to me: That done, with honour Thou dost me create Thy poet, and Thy prophet Laureate.

263. GOOD FRIDAY: REX TRAGICUS; OR, CHRIST GOING TO HIS CROSS.

Put off Thy robe of purple, then go on To the sad place of execution: Thine hour is come, and the tormentor stands Ready to pierce Thy tender feet and hands. Long before this, the base, the dull, the rude, Th' inconstant and unpurged multitude Yawn for Thy coming; some ere this time cry, How He defers, how loath He is to die! Amongst this scum, the soldier with his spear And that sour fellow with his vinegar, His sponge, and stick, do ask why Thou dost stay; So do the scurf and bran too. Go Thy way, Thy way, Thou guiltless man, and satisfy By Thine approach each their beholding eye. Not as a thief shalt Thou ascend the mount, But like a person of some high account; The Cross shall be Thy stage, and Thou shalt there The spacious field have for Thy theatre. Thou art that Roscius and that marked-out man That must this day act the tragedian To wonder and affrightment: Thou art He Whom all the flux of nations comes to see, Not those poor thieves that act their parts with Thee; Those act without regard, when once a king And God, as Thou art, comes to suffering. No, no; this scene from Thee takes life, and sense, And soul, and spirit, plot and excellence. Why then, begin, great King! ascend Thy throne, And thence proceed to act Thy Passion To such an height, to such a period raised, As hell, and earth, and heav'n may stand amazed. God and good angels guide Thee; and so bless Thee in Thy several parts of bitterness, That those who see Thee nail'd unto the tree May, though they scorn Thee, praise and pity Thee. And we, Thy lovers, while we see Thee keep The laws of action, will both sigh and weep, And bring our spices to embalm Thee dead; That done, we'll see Thee sweetly buried.

_Scurf and bran_, the rabble.

264. HIS WORDS TO CHRIST GOING TO THE CROSS.

When Thou wast taken, Lord, I oft have read, All Thy disciples Thee forsook and fled. Let their example not a pattern be For me to fly, but now to follow Thee.

265. ANOTHER TO HIS SAVIOUR.

If Thou be'st taken, God forbid I fly from Thee, as others did: But if Thou wilt so honour me As to accept my company, I'll follow Thee, hap hap what shall, Both to the judge and judgment hall: And, if I see Thee posted there, To be all-flayed with whipping-cheer, I'll take my share; or else, my God, Thy stripes I'll kiss, or burn the rod.

266. HIS SAVIOUR'S WORDS GOING TO THE CROSS.

Have, have ye no regard, all ye Who pass this way, to pity Me, Who am a man of misery!

A man both bruis'd, and broke, and one Who suffers not here for Mine own, But for My friends' transgression!

Ah! Sion's daughters, do not fear The cross, the cords, the nails, the spear, The myrrh, the gall, the vinegar;

For Christ, your loving Saviour, hath Drunk up the wine of God's fierce wrath; Only there's left a little froth,

Less for to taste than for to show What bitter cups had been your due, Had He not drank them up for you.

267. HIS ANTHEM TO CHRIST ON THE CROSS.

When I behold Thee, almost slain, With one and all parts full of pain: When I Thy gentle heart do see Pierced through and dropping blood for me, I'll call, and cry out, thanks to Thee.

_Vers._ But yet it wounds my soul to think That for my sin Thou, Thou must drink, Even Thou alone, the bitter cup Of fury and of vengeance up.

_Chor._ Lord, I'll not see Thee to drink all The vinegar, the myrrh, the gall:

_Vers. Chor._ But I will sip a little wine; Which done, Lord, say: The rest is Mine.

268.

This crosstree here Doth Jesus bear, Who sweet'ned first The death accurs'd. Here all things ready are, make haste, make haste away; For long this work will be, and very short this day. Why then, go on to act: here's wonders to be done Before the last least sand of Thy ninth hour be run; Or ere dark clouds do dull or dead the mid-day's sun. Act when Thou wilt, Blood will be spilt; Pure balm, that shall Bring health to all. Why then, begin To pour first in Some drops of wine, Instead of brine, To search the wound So long unsound: And, when that's done, Let oil next run To cure the sore Sin made before. And O! dear Christ, E'en as Thou di'st, Look down, and see Us weep for Thee. And tho', love knows, Thy dreadful woes We cannot ease, Yet do Thou please, Who mercy art, T' accept each heart That gladly would Help if it could. Meanwhile let me, Beneath this tree, This honour have, To make my grave.

269. TO HIS SAVIOUR'S SEPULCHRE: HIS DEVOTION.

Hail, holy and all-honour'd tomb, By no ill haunted; here I come, With shoes put off, to tread thy room. I'll not profane by soil of sin Thy door as I do enter in; For I have washed both hand and heart, This, that, and every other part, So that I dare, with far less fear Than full affection, enter here. Thus, thus I come to kiss Thy stone With a warm lip and solemn one: And as I kiss I'll here and there Dress Thee with flow'ry diaper. How sweet this place is! as from hence Flowed all Panchaia's frankincense; Or rich Arabia did commix, Here, all her rare aromatics. Let me live ever here, and stir No one step from this sepulchre. Ravish'd I am! and down I lie Confused in this brave ecstasy. Here let me rest; and let me have This for my heaven that was Thy grave: And, coveting no higher sphere, I'll my eternity spend here.

_Panchaia_, a fabulous spice island in the Erythrean Sea.

270. HIS OFFERING, WITH THE REST, AT THE SEPULCHRE.

To join with them who here confer Gifts to my Saviour's sepulchre, Devotion bids me hither bring Somewhat for my thank-offering. Lo! thus I bring a virgin flower, To dress my Maiden Saviour.

271. HIS COMING TO THE SEPULCHRE.

Hence they have borne my Lord; behold! the stone Is rolled away and my sweet Saviour's gone. Tell me, white angel, what is now become Of Him we lately sealed up in this tomb? Is He, from hence, gone to the shades beneath, To vanquish hell as here He conquered death? If so, I'll thither follow without fear, And live in hell if that my Christ stays there.

Of all the good things whatsoe'er we do, God is the ΑΡΧΗ, and the ΤΕΛΟΣ too.

POEMS

NOT INCLUDED IN _HESPERIDES_.

THE DESCRIPTION OF A WOMAN.

Whose head, befringed with bescattered tresses, Shows like Apollo's when the morn he dresses,[B] Or like Aurora when with pearl she sets Her long, dishevell'd, rose-crown'd trammelets: Her forehead smooth, full, polish'd, bright and high Bears in itself a graceful majesty, Under the which two crawling eyebrows twine Like to the tendrils of a flatt'ring vine, Under whose shade two starry sparkling eyes Are beautifi'd with fair fring'd canopies. Her comely nose, with uniformal grace, Like purest white, stands in the middle place, Parting the pair, as we may well suppose. Each cheek resembling still a damask rose, Which like a garden manifestly show How roses, lilies, and carnations grow, Which sweetly mixed both with white and red, Like rose leaves, white and red, seem[C] mingled. Then nature for a sweet allurement sets Two smelling, swelling, bashful cherrylets, The which with ruby redness being tipp'd, Do speak a virgin, merry, cherry-lipp'd. Over the which a neat, sweet skin is drawn, Which makes them show like roses under lawn: These be the ruby portals, and divine, Which ope themselves to show a holy shrine Whose breath is rich perfume, that to the sense Smells like the burn'd Sabean frankincense: In which the tongue, though but a member small, Stands guarded with a rosy-hilly wall; And her white teeth, which in the gums are set Like pearl and gold, make one rich cabinet. Next doth her chin with dimpled beauty strive For his white, plump, and smooth prerogative; At whose fair top, to please the sight, there grows The fairest[D] image of a blushing rose, Mov'd by the chin, whose motion causeth this, That both her lips do part, do meet, do kiss; Her ears, which like two labyrinths are plac'd On either side, with rich rare jewels grac'd, Moving a question whether that by them The gem is grac'd, or they grac'd by the gem. But the foundation of the architect Is the swan-staining, fair, rare, stately neck Which with ambitious humbleness stands under, Bearing aloft this rich, round world of wonder. Her breast, a place for beauty's throne most fit, Bears up two globes where love and pleasure sit, Which, headed with two rich, round rubies, show Like wanton rosebuds growing out of snow; And in the milky valley that's between Sits Cupid, kissing of his mother queen, Fingering the paps that feel like sieved silk, And press'd a little they will weep pure milk. Then comes the belly, seated next below, Like a fair mountain in Riphean snow, Where Nature, in a whiteness without spot, Hath in the middle tied a Gordian knot. Now love invites me to survey her thighs, Swelling in likeness like two crystal skies, Which to the knees by Nature fastened on, Derive their ever well 'greed motion. Her legs with two clear calves, like silver tri'd, Kindly swell up with little pretty pride, Leaving a distance for the comely[E] small To beautify the leg and foot withal. Then lowly, yet most lovely stand the feet, Round, short and clear, like pounded spices sweet, And whatsoever thing they tread upon They make it scent like bruised cinnamon. The lovely shoulders now allure the eye To see two tablets of pure ivory From which two arms like branches seem to spread With tender rind[F] and silver coloured, With little hands and fingers long and small To grace a lute, a viol, virginal. In length each finger doth his next excel, Each richly headed with a pearly shell. Thus every part in contrariety Meet in the whole and make a harmony, As divers strings do singly disagree, But form'd by number make sweet melody.

[B] MS. blesses.

[C] MS. lye.

[D] MS. blessed.

[E] MS. beauteous.

[F] W.R. vein'd.

MR. HERRICK: HIS DAUGHTER'S DOWRY.

Ere I go hence and be no more Seen to the world, I'll give the score I owe unto a female child, And that is this, a verse enstyled My daughter's dowry; having which, I'll leave thee then completely rich. Instead of gold, pearl, rubies, bonds Long forfeit, pawned diamonds Or antique pledges, house or land, I give thee this that shall withstand The blow of ruin and of chance. These hurt not thine inheritance, For 'tis fee simple and no rent Thou fortune ow'st for tenement. However after times will praise, This portion, my prophetic bays, Cannot deliver up to th' rust, Yet I keep peaceful in my dust. As for thy birth and better seeds (Those which must grow to virtuous deeds), Thou didst derive from that old stem (Love and mercy cherish them), Which like a vestal virgin ply With holy fire lest that it die. Grow up with milder laws to know At what time to say aye or no; Let manners teach thee where to be More comely flowing, where less free. These bring thy husband, like to those Old coins and medals we expose To th' show, but never part with. Next, As in a more conspicuous text, Thy forehead, let therein be sign'd The maiden candour of thy mind; And under it two chaste-born spies To bar out bold adulteries, For through these optics fly the darts Of lust which set on fire our hearts. On either side of these quick ears There must be plac'd, for seasoned fears Which sweeten love, yet ne'er come nigh The plague of wilder jealousy. Then let each cheek of thine entice His soul as to a bed of spice Where he may roll and lose his sense, As in a bed of frankincense. A lip enkindled with that coal With which love chafes and warms the soul, Bring to him next, and in it show Love's cherries from such fires grow And have their harvest, which must stand The gathering of the lip, not hand; Then unto these be it thy care To clothe thy words in gentle air, That smooth as oil, sweet, soft and clean As is the childish bloom of bean, They may fall down and stroke, as the Beams of the sun the peaceful sea. With hands as smooth as mercy's bring Him for his better cherishing, That when thou dost his neck ensnare, Or with thy wrist, or flattering hair, He may, a prisoner, there descry Bondage more loved than liberty. A nature so well formed, so wrought To calm and tempest, let be brought With thee, that should he but incline To roughness, clasp him like a vine, Or like as wool meets steel, give way Unto the passion, not to stay; Wrath, if resisted, over-boils, If not, it dies or else recoils. And lastly, see you bring to him Somewhat peculiar to each limb; And I charge thee to be known By n'other face but by thine own. Let it in love's name be kept sleek, Yet to be found when he shall seek It, and not instead of saint Give up his worth unto the paint; For, trust me, girl, she over-does Who by a double proxy woos. But lest I should forget his bed, Be sure thou bring a maidenhead. That is a margarite, which lost, Thou bring'st unto his bed a frost Or a cold poison, which his blood Benumbs like the forgetful flood. Now for some jewels to supply The want of earrings' bravery For public eyes; take only these Ne'er travelled for beyond the seas; They're nobly home-bred, yet have price Beyond the far-fet merchandise: Obedience, wise distrust, peace, shy Distance and sweet urbanity; Safe modesty, lov'd patience, fear Of offending, temperance, dear Constancy, bashfulness and all The virtues less or cardinal, Take with my blessing, and go forth Enjewelled with thy native worth. And now if there a man be found That looks for such prepared ground, Let him, but with indifferent skill, So good a soil bestock and till; He may ere long have such a wife Nourish in's breast a tree of life.

MR. ROBERT HERRICK: HIS FAREWELL UNTO POETRY.

I have beheld two lovers in a night Hatched o'er with moonshine from their stolen delight (When this to that, and that to this, had given A kiss to such a jewel of the heaven, Or while that each from other's breath did drink Health to the rose, the violet, or pink), Call'd on the sudden by the jealous mother, Some stricter mistress or suspicious other, Urging divorcement (worse than death to these) By the soon jingling of some sleepy keys, Part with a hasty kiss; and in that show How stay they would, yet forced they are to go. Even such are we, and in our parting do No otherwise than as those former two Natures like ours, we who have spent our time Both from the morning to the evening chime. Nay, till the bellman of the night had tolled Past noon of night, yet wear the hours not old Nor dulled with iron sleep, but have outworn The fresh and fairest nourish of the morn With flame and rapture; drinking to the odd Number of nine which makes us full with God, And in that mystic frenzy we have hurled, As with a tempest, nature through the world, And in a whirlwind twirl'd her home, aghast At that which in her ecstasy had past; Thus crowned with rosebuds, sack, thou mad'st me fly Like fire-drakes, yet didst me no harm thereby. O thou almighty nature, who didst give True heat wherewith humanity doth live Beyond its stinted circle, giving food, White fame and resurrection to the good; Shoring them up 'bove ruin till the doom, The general April of the world doth come That makes all equal. Many thousands should, Were't not for thee, have crumbled into mould, And with their serecloths rotted, not to show Whether the world such spirits had or no, Whereas by thee those and a million since, Nor fate, nor envy, can their fames convince. Homer, Musæus, Ovid, Maro, more Of those godful prophets long before Held their eternal fires, and ours of late (Thy mercy helping) shall resist strong fate, Nor stoop to the centre, but survive as long As fame or rumour hath or trump or tongue; But unto me be only hoarse, since now (Heaven and my soul bear record of my vow) I my desires screw from thee, and direct Them and my thoughts to that sublim'd respect And conscience unto priesthood; 'tis not need (The scarecrow unto mankind) that doth breed Wiser conclusions in me, since I know I've more to bear my charge than way to go, Or had I not, I'd stop the spreading itch Of craving more, so in conceit be rich; But 'tis the God of Nature who intends And shapes my function for more glorious ends. Kiss, so depart, yet stay a while to see The lines of sorrow that lie drawn in me In speech, in picture; no otherwise than when, Judgment and death denounced 'gainst guilty men, Each takes a weeping farewell, racked in mind With joys before and pleasures left behind; Shaking the head, whilst each to each doth mourn, With thought they go whence they must ne'er return. So with like looks, as once the ministrel Cast, leading his Eurydice through hell, I strike thy love, and greedily pursue Thee with mine eyes or in or out of view. So looked the Grecian orator when sent From's native country into banishment, Throwing his eyeballs backward to survey The smoke of his beloved Attica; So Tully looked when from the breasts of Rome The sad soul went, not with his love, but doom, Shooting his eyedarts 'gainst it to surprise It, or to draw the city to his eyes. Such is my parting with thee, and to prove There was not varnish only in my love, But substance, lo! receive this pearly tear Frozen with grief and place it in thine ear. Then part in name of peace, and softly on With numerous feet to hoofy Helicon; And when thou art upon that forked hill Amongst the thrice three sacred virgins, fill A full-brimm'd bowl of fury and of rage, And quaff it to the prophets of our age; When drunk with rapture curse the blind and lame, Base ballad-mongers who usurp thy name And foul thy altar; charm some into frogs, Some to be rats, and others to be hogs; Into the loathsom'st shapes thou canst devise To make fools hate them, only by disguise; Thus with a kiss of warmth and love I part Not so, but that some relic in my heart Shall stand for ever, though I do address Chiefly myself to what I must profess. Know yet, rare soul, when my diviner muse Shall want a handmaid (as she oft will use), Be ready, thou for me, to wait upon her, Though as a servant, yet a maid of honour. The crown of duty is our duty: well Doing's the fruit of doing well. Farewell.

_Shoring_, copies _soaring_.

A CAROL PRESENTED TO DR. WILLIAMS, BISHOP OF LINCOLN AS A NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.

Fly hence, pale care, no more remember Past sorrows with the fled December, But let each pleasant cheek appear Smooth as the childhood of the year, And sing a carol here. 'Twas brave, 'twas brave, could we command the hand Of youth's swift watch to stand As you have done your day; Then should we not decay. But all we wither, and our light Is spilt in everlasting night, Whenas your sight Shows like the heavens above the moon, Like an eternal noon That sees no setting sun.

Keep up those flames, and though you shroud Awhile your forehead in a cloud, Do it like the sun to write In the air a greater text of light; Welcome to all our vows, And since you pay To us this day So long desir'd, See we have fir'd Our holy spikenard, and there's none But brings his stick of cinnamon, His eager eye or smoother smile, And lays it gently on the pile, Which thus enkindled, we invoke Your name amidst the sacred smoke.

_Chorus._ Come then, great Lord. And see our altar burn With love of your return, And not a man here but consumes His soul to glad you in perfumes.

SONG. HIS MISTRESS TO HIM AT HIS FAREWELL.

You may vow I'll not forget To pay the debt Which to thy memory stands as due As faith can seal it you; Take then tribute of my tears, So long as I have fears To prompt me I shall ever Languish and look, but thy return see never. Oh then to lessen my despair Print thy lips into the air, So by this Means I may kiss thy kiss Whenas some kind Wind Shall hither waft it, and in lieu My lips shall send a 1000 back to you.

UPON PARTING.

Go hence away, and in thy parting know 'Tis not my voice but Heaven's that bids thee go; Spring hence thy faith, nor think it ill desert I find in thee that makes me thus to part. But voice of fame, and voice of Heaven have thundered We both were lost, if both of us not sundered. Fold now thine arms, and in thy last look rear One sigh of love, and cool it with a tear. Since part we must, let's kiss; that done, retire With as cold frost as erst we met with fire; With such white vows as fate can ne'er dissever, But truth knit fast; and so, farewell for ever.

UPON MASTER FLETCHER'S INCOMPARABLE PLAYS.

Apollo sings, his harp resounds: give room, For now behold the golden pomp is come, Thy pomp of plays which thousands come to see With admiration both of them and thee. O volume! worthy, leaf by leaf and cover, To be with juice of cedar wash'd all over; Here words with lines and lines with scenes consent To raise an act to full astonishment; Here melting numbers, words of power to move Young men to swoon and maids to die for love. _Love lies a-bleeding_ here, _Evadne_, there Swells with brave rage, yet comely everywhere; Here's _A mad lover_, there that high design Of _King and no King_, and the rare plot thine. So that whene'er we circumvolve our eyes, Such rich, such fresh, such sweet varieties Ravish our spirits, that entranc'd we see None writes love's passion in the world like thee.

_THE NEW CHARON:_

UPON THE DEATH OF HENRY, LORD HASTINGS.

_The musical part being set by Mr. Henry Lawes._

THE SPEAKERS,

CHARON AND EUCOSMIA.

_Euc._ Charon, O Charon, draw thy boat to th' shore, And to thy many take in one soul more. _Cha._ Who calls? who calls? _Euc._ One overwhelm'd with ruth; Have pity either on my tears or youth, And take me in who am in deep distress; But first cast off thy wonted churlishness. _Cha._ I will be gentle as that air which yields A breath of balm along the Elysian fields. Speak, what art thou? _Euc_. One once that had a lover, Than which thyself ne'er wafted sweeter over. He was---- _Cha._ Say what? _Euc._ Ah me, my woes are deep. _Cha._ Prithee relate, while I give ear and weep. _Euc._ He was a Hastings; and that one name has In it all good that is, and ever was. He was my life, my love, my joy, but died Some hours before I should have been his bride. _Chorus._ Thus, thus the gods celestial still decree, For human joy contingent misery. _Euc._ The hallowed tapers all prepared were, And Hymen call'd to bless the rites. _Cha._ Stop there. _Euc._ Great are my woes. _Cha._ And great must that grief be That makes grim Charon thus to pity thee. But now come in. _Euc._ More let me yet relate. _Cha._ I cannot stay; more souls for waftage wait And I must hence. _Euc._ Yet let me thus much know, Departing hence, where good and bad souls go? _Cha._ Those souls which ne'er were drench'd in pleasure's stream, The fields of Pluto are reserv'd for them; Where, dress'd with garlands, there they walk the ground Whose blessed youth with endless flowers is crown'd. But such as have been drown'd in this wild sea, For those is kept the Gulf of Hecate, Where with their own contagion they are fed, And there do punish and are punished. This known, the rest of thy sad story tell When on the flood that nine times circles hell. _Chorus._ We sail along to visit mortals never; But there to live where love shall last for ever.

EPITAPH ON THE TOMB OF SIR EDWARD GILES AND HIS WIFE IN THE SOUTH AISLE OF DEAN PRIOR CHURCH, DEVON.

No trust to metals nor to marbles, when These have their fate and wear away as men; Times, titles, trophies may be lost and spent, But virtue rears the eternal monument. What more than these can tombs or tombstones pay? But here's the sunset of a tedious day: These two asleep are: I'll but be undress'd And so to bed: pray wish us all good rest.

NOTES.

NOTES.

569. _And of any wood ye see, You can make a Mercury._ Pythagoras allegorically said that Mercury's statue could not be made of every sort of wood: cp. Rabelais, iv. 62.

575. _The Apparition of his Mistress calling him to Elysium._ An earlier version of this poem was printed in the 1640 edition of Shakespeare's poems under the title, _His Mistris Shade_, having been licensed for separate publication at Stationers' Hall the previous year. The variants are numerous, and some of them important. l. 1, _of silver_ for _with silv'rie_; l. 3, on the Banks for _in the Meads_; l. 8, _Spikenard through_ for _Storax from_; l. 10 reads: "_Of mellow_ Apples, _ripened_ Plums _and_ Pears": l. 17, the order of "naked younglings, handsome striplings" is reversed; in place of l. 20 we have:--

"So soon as each his dangling locks hath crown'd With Rosie Chaplets, Lilies, Pansies red, Soft Saffron Circles to perfume the head";

l. 23, _to_ for _too unto_; l. 24, _their_ for _our_; ll. 29, 30:--

"Unto the Prince of Shades, whom once his Pen Entituled the Grecian Prince of Men";

l. 31, _thereupon_ for _and that done_; l. 36, _render him true_ for _show him truly_; l. 37, _will_ for _shall_; l. 38, "Where both may _laugh_, both drink, _both_ rage together"; l. 48, _Amphitheatre_ for _spacious theatre_; l. 49, _synod_ for _glories_, followed by:--

"crown'd with sacred Bays And flatt'ring _joy, we'll have to_ recite their plays, _Shakespeare and Beamond_, Swans to whom _the Spheres_ Listen while they _call back the former year[s] To teach the truth of scenes_, and more for thee, There yet remains, _brave soul_, than thou can'st see," etc.;

l. 56, _illustrious for capacious_; l. 57, _shall be_ for _now is_ [Jonson died 1637]; ll. 59-61:--

"To be of that high Hierarchy where none But brave souls take illumination Immediately from heaven; but hark the cock," etc.;

l. 62, _feel_ for _see_; l. 63, _through_ for _from_.

579. _My love will fit each history._ Cp. Ovid, _Amor._ II. iv. 44: Omnibus historiis se meus aptat amor.

580. _The sweets of love are mixed with tears._ Cp. Propert. I. xii. 16: Nonnihil adspersis gaudet Amor lacrimis.

583. _Whom this morn sees most fortunate_, etc. Seneca, _Thyest._ 613: Quem dies vidit veniens superbum Hunc dies vidit fugiens jacentem.

586. _Night hides our thefts_, etc. Ovid, _Ars Am._ i. 249:--

Nocte latent mendæ vitioque ignoscitur omni, Horaque formosam quamlibet illa facit.

590. _To his brother-in-law, Master John Wingfield._ Of Brantham, Suffolk, husband of the poet's sister, Mercy. See 818, and Sketch of Herrick's Life in vol. i.

599. _Upon Lucia._ Cp. "The Resolution" in _Speculum Amantis_, ed. A. H. Bullen.

604. _Old Religion._ Certainly not Roman Catholicism, though Jonson was a Catholic. Herrick uses the noun and its adjective rather curiously of the dead: cp. 82, "To the reverend shade of his religious Father," and 138, "When thou shalt laugh at my religious dust". There may be something of this use here, or we may refer to his ancient cult of Jonson. But the use of the phrase in 870 makes the exact shade of meaning difficult to fix.

605. _Riches to be but burdens to the mind._ Seneca _De Provid._ 6: Democritus divitias projecit, onus illas bonae mentis existimans.

607. _Who covets more is evermore a slave._ Hor. I. _Ep._ x. 41: Serviet aeternum qui parvo nesciet uti.

615. _No Wrath of Men._ Cp. Hor. _Od._ III. iii. 1-8.

616. _To the Maids to walk abroad._ Printed in _Witts Recreations_, 1650, under the title: _Abroad with the Maids_.

618. _Mistress Elizabeth Lee, now Lady Tracy._ Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas, first Lord Leigh of Stoneleigh, in Warwickshire, married John, third Viscount Tracy. She survived her husband two years, and died in 1688.

624. _Poets._ _Wantons we are_, etc. From Ovid, _Trist._ ii. 353-4:--

Crede mihi, mores distant a carmine nostri: Vita verecunda est, Musa jocosa, mihi.

625. _'Tis cowardice to bite the buried._ Cp. Ben Jonson, _The Poetaster_, I. 1: "Envy the living, not the dead, doth bite"; perhaps from Ovid, _Am._ I. xv. 39: Pascitur in vivis livor; post fata quiescit.

626. _Noble Westmoreland._ See Note to 112.

_Gallant Newark._ Robert Pierrepoint was created Viscount Newark in 1627 and Earl of Kingston in the following year. But Herrick is perhaps addressing his son, Henry Pierrepoint, afterwards Marquis of Dorchester (see 962 and Note), who during the first Earl of Kingston's life would presumably have borne his second title.

633. _Sweet words must nourish soft and gentle love._ Ovid, _Ars Am._ ii. 152: Dulcibus est verbis mollis alendus amor.

639. _Fates revolve no flax they've spun._ Seneca, _Herc. Fur._ 1812: Duræ peragunt pensa sorores, Nec sua retro fila revolvunt.

642. _Palms ... gems._ A Latinism. Cp. Ovid, _Fasti_, i. 152: Et nova de gravido palmite gemma tumet.

645. _Upon Tears._ Cp. S. Bernard: Pœnitentium lacrimæ vinum angelorum.

649. _Upon Lucy._ Printed in _Witts Recreations_, 1650, under the title, _On Betty_.

653. _To th' number five or nine._ Probably Herrick is mistaking the references in Greek and Latin poets to the mixing of their wine and water (_e.g._, Hor. _Od._ III. xix. 11-17) for the drinking of so many cups.

654. _Long-looked-for comes at last._ Cp. G. Herbert, preface to Sibbes' Funeral Sermon on Sir Thomas Crew (1638): "That ancient adage, 'Quod differtur non aufertur' for 'Long-looked-for comes at last'".

655. _The morrow's life too late is_, etc. Mart. I. xvi. 12: Sera nimis vita est crastina: vive hodie.

662. _O happy life_, etc. From Virg. _Georg._ ii. 458-9:--

O fortunatos nimium sua si bona norint Agricolas.

It is not uncharacteristic that these fervid praises of country life were left unfinished.

664. _Arthur Bartly._ Not yet identified.

665. _Let her Lucrece all day be._ From Martial XI. civ. 21, 22:--

Lucretia toto Sis licet usque die: Laida nocte volo.

_Neither will Famish me, nor overfill._ Mart. I. lviii. 4: Nec volo quod cruciat, nec volo quod satiat.

667. _Be't for my Bridal or my Burial._ Cp. Brand, vol. ii., and Coles' _Introduction to the Knowledge of Plants_: "Rosemary and bayes are used by the commons both at funerals and weddings".

672. _Kings ought to be more lov'd than fear'd._ Seneca, _Octavia_, 459: Decet timeri Cæsarem. At plus diligi.

673. _To Mr. Denham, on his prospective poem._ Sir John Denham published in 1642 his _Cooper's Hill_, a poem on the view over the Thames towards London, from a hill near Windsor.

675. _Their fashion is, but to say no_, etc. Cp. Montaigne's _Essais_, II. 3, p. 51; Florio's tr. p. 207: "Let it suffice that in doing it they say no and take it".

676. _Love is maintained by wealth._ Ovid, _Rem. Am._ 746: Divitiis alitur luxuriosus amor.

679. _Nero commanded, but withdrew his eyes._ Tacit. _Agric._ 45: Nero subtraxit oculos, jussitque scelera, non spectavit.

683. _But a just measure both of Heat and Cold._ This is a version of the medieval doctrine of the four humours. So Chaucer says of his Doctor of Physic:--

"He knew the cause of every maladye, Were it of hoot or cold, or moyste, or drye, And where engendered and of what humour".

684. _'Gainst thou go'st a-mothering._ The Epistle for Mid-Lent Sunday was from Galat. iv. 21, etc., and contained the words: "Jerusalem, quæ est Mater nostra". On that Sunday people made offerings at their Mother Church. After the Reformation the natural mother was substituted for the spiritual, and the day was set apart for visiting relations. Excellent simnel cakes (Low Lat., _siminellus_, fine flour) are still made in the North, where the current derivation of the word is from _Sim_ and _Nell_!

685. _To the King._ Probably written in 1645, when Charles was for a short time in the West.

689. _Too much she gives to some, enough to none._ Mart. XII. x.; Fortuna multis dat nimis, satis nulli.

696. _Men mind no state in sickness._ There is a general resemblance in this poem to the latter part of Hor. III. _Od._ i., but I have an uneasy sense that Herrick is translating.

697. _Adversity._ Printed in _Witts Recreations_, 1650.

702. _Mean things overcome mighty._ Cp. 486 and Note.

706. _How roses came red._ Cp. Burton, _Anat. Mel._ III. ii. 3: "Constantine (_Agricult._ xi. 18) makes Cupid himself to be a great dancer: by the same token that he was capering among the gods, he flung down a bowl of nectar, which, distilling upon the white rose, ever since made it red".

709. _Tears and Laughter._ Bishop Jebb quotes a Latin couplet inscribed on an old inn at Four Crosses, Staffordshire:--

Fleres si scires unum tua tempora mensem: Rides, cum non sit forsitan una dies.

710. _Tully says._ Cic. _Tusc. Disp._ III. ii. 3: Gloria est frequens de aliquo, fama cum laude.

713. _His return to London._ Written at the same time as his _Farewell to Dean Bourn_, _i.e._, after his ejection in 1648, the year of the publication of the _Hesperides_.

715. _No pack like poverty._ Burton, _Anat. Mel._ iii. 3: Οὐδὲν πενίας βαρύτερόν ἐστι φόρτιον. "No burden, saith Menander, is so intolerable as poverty."

718. _As many laws_, etc. Tacit. _Ann._ iii. 27: Corruptissima in republica plurimæ leges.

723. _Lay down some silver pence._ Cp. Bishop Corbet's _The Faeryes Farewell_:--

"And though they sweep their hearths no less Than maids were wont to do, Yet who of late for cleanliness Finds sixpence in her shoe?"

725. _Times that are ill ... Clouds will not ever_, etc., two reminiscences of Horace, II. _Od._ x. 17, and ix.

727. _Up tails all._ This tune will be found in Chappell's _Popular Music of the Olden Time_, vol. i. p. 196. He notes that it was a favourite with Herrick, who wrote four other poems in the metre, viz.: _The Hag is Astride_, _The Maypole is up_, _The Peter-penny_, and _Twelfth Night: or, King and Queen_. The tune is found in Queen Elizabeth's Virginal Book, and in the _Dancing Master_ (1650-1690). It is alluded to by Ben Jonson, and was a favourite with the Cavaliers.

730. _Charon and Philomel._ This dialogue is found with some slight variations of text in Rawlinson's MS. poet. 65. fol. 32. The following variants may be noted: l. 5, _voice_ for _sound_; l. 7, _shade_ for _bird_; l. 11, _warbling_ for _watching_; l. 12, _hoist up_ for _thus hoist_; l. 13, _be gone_ for _return_; l. 18, _praise_ for _pray_; l. 19, _sighs_ for _vows_; l. 24, omit _slothful_. The dialogue is succeeded in the MS. by an old catch (probably written before Herrick was born):--

"A boat! a boat! haste to the ferry! For we go over to be merry, To laugh and quaff, and drink old sherry".

After the catch comes the following dialogue, written (it would seem) in imitation of Herrick's _Charon and Philomel_: the speakers' names are not marked:--

"Charon! O Charon! the wafter of all souls to bliss or bane! Who calls the ferryman of Hell? Come near and say who lives in bliss and who in pain. Those that die well eternal bliss shall follow. Those that die ill their own black deeds shall swallow. Shall thy black barge those guilty spirits row That kill themselves for love? Oh, no! oh, no! My cordage cracks when such foul sins draw near, No wind blows fair, nor I my boat can steer. What spirits pass and in Elysium reign? Those harmless souls that love and are beloved again. That soul that lives in love and fain would die to win, Shall he go free? Oh, no! it is too foul a sin. He must not come aboard, I dare not row, Storms of despair my boat will overblow. But when thy mistress (?) shall close up thine eyes then come aboard, Then come aboard and pass; till then be wise and sing."

"Then come aboard" from the penultimate line and "and sing" from the last should clearly be struck out.

739. _O Jupiter_, etc. Eubulus in Athenaeus, xiii. 559: Ὠ Ζεῦ πολυτίμητ', εἶτ' ἐγὼ κακῶς ποτε | ἐρῶ γυναῖκας; νὴ Δί' ἀπολοίμην ἄρα· | πάντων ἄριστον κτημάτων. Comp. 885.

743. _Another upon her Weeping._ Printed in Witts _Recreations_, 1650, under the title: _On Julia's Weeping_.

745. _To Sir John Berkeley, Governour of Exeter._ Youngest son of Sir Maurice Berkeley, of Bruton, in Somersetshire; knighted in Berwick in 1638; commander-in-chief of all the Royalist forces in Devonshire, 1643; captured Exeter Sept. 4 of that year, and held it till April 13, 1646. Created Baron Berkeley of Stratton, in Cornwall, 1658; died 1678.

749. _Consultation._ As noted in the text, this is from Sallust, _Cat._ i.

751. _None sees the fardell of his faults behind._ Cp. Catullus, xxii. 20, 21:--

Suus cuique attributus est error, Sed non videmus manticae quod in tergo est,

or, perhaps more probably from Seneca, _de Irá_, ii. 28: Aliena vitia in oculis habemus; à tergo nostra sunt.

755. _The Eye._ Æschyl. _Fragm._ in Plutarch, _Amat._ 21: Νέας γυναικὸς οὔ με μὴ λάθῃ φλέγων Ὀφθαλμὸς, ἥτις ἀνδρὸς ᾖ γεγευμένη.

756. _To Prince Charles upon his coming to Exeter._ In August, 1645.

761. _The Wake._ Printed in _Witts Recreations_, 1650, under the title: _Alvar and Anthea_.

763. _To Doctor Alabaster._ William Alabaster, or Alablaster, born at Hadleigh, Suffolk (1567); educated at Westminster and Trinity College, Cambridge; a friend of Spencer; was converted to Roman Catholicism while chaplain to the Earl of Essex in Spain, 1596. In 1607 he began his series of apocalyptic writings by an _Apparatus in Revelationem Jesu Christi_. On visiting Rome he was imprisoned by the Inquisition, escaped, and returned to Protestantism. Besides his theological works, he published (in 1637) a Lexicon Pentaglotton. Died April, 1640.

766. _Time is the bound of things_, etc. From Seneca, _Consol. ad Marc._ xix.: Excessit filius tuus terminos intra quos servitur ... mors omnium dolorum solutio est et finis.

771. _As I have read must be the first man up_, etc. Hor. I. _Ep._ vi. 48: Hoc primus repetas opus, hoc postremus omittas.

_Rich compost._ Cp. the same thought in 662.

772. _A Hymn to Bacchus._ Printed, with the misprint _Bacchus for Iacchus_ in l. 1, in _Witts Recreations_, 1650.

_Brutus ... Cato._ Cp. Note to 4 and 8.

774. _If wars go well_, etc. Tacitus, _Ann._ iii. 53: cùm rectè factorum sibi quisque gratiam trahant, unius [Principis scil.] invidiâ ab omnibus peccatur.

775. _Niggards of the meanest blood._ Seneca, _de Clem._ i. 1: Summa parsimonia etiam vilissimi sanguinis.

776. _Wrongs, if neglected_, etc. Tacit. _Ann._ iv. 34: [Probra] spreta exolescunt, si irascare agnita videntur.

780. _Kings ought to shear_, etc. A saying of Tiberius quoted by Suetonius: Boni pastoris est tondere oves, non deglubere. Herrick probably took it from Ben Jonson's _Discoveries_.

784-7. _Ceremonies for Christmas._ More will be found about the Yule-log in _Ceremonies for Candlemas Day_ (893); cp. also _The Wassail_ (476).

788. _Power and Peace._ From Tacitus, _Ann._ iv. 4: Quanquam arduum sit eodem loci potentiam et concordiam esse.

789. _Mistress Margaret Falconbridge._ A daughter, probably, of the Thomas Falconbridge of number 483.

797. _Kisses._ Printed in _Witts Recreations_, 1650, with omission of me in l. 1.

804. _John Crofts, Cup-bearer to the King._ Third son of Sir John Crofts, of Saxham, Suffolk. We hear of him in the king's service as early as 1628, and two years later Lord Conway, in thanking Wm. Weld for some verses sent him, hopes "the lines are strong enough to bind Robert Maule and Jack Crofts from ever more using the phrase". So Jack was probably a bit of a poet himself. He may be the Mr. Crofts for assaulting whom George, Lord Digby, was imprisoned a month and more, in 1634.

807. _Man may want land to live in._ Tacitus, _Ann._ xiii. 56: Addidit [Boiocalus] Deësse nobis terra in quâ vivamus, in quâ moriamur non potest, quoted by Montaigne, II. 3.

809. _Who after his transgression doth repent._ Seneca, _Agam._ 243: Quem poenitet peccasse paene est innocens.

810. _Grief, if't be great 'tis short._ Seneca, quoted by Burton (II. iii. 1, § 1): "Si longa est, levis est; si gravis est, brevis est. If it be long, 'tis light; if grievous, it cannot last."

817. _The Amber Bead._ Cp. Martial's epigram quoted in Note to 497. The comparison to Cleopatra is from Mart. IV. xxxii.

818. _To my dearest sister, M. Mercy Herrick._ Not quite five years his senior. She married John Wingfield, of Brantham, Suffolk, to whom also Herrick addresses a poem.

820. _Suffer that thou canst not shift._ From Seneca; the title from _Ep._ cvii.: Optimum est pati quod emendare non possis, the epigram from _De Provid._ 4, as translated by Thomas Lodge, 1614, "Vertuous instructions are never delicate. Doth fortune beat and rend us? Let us suffer it"--whence Herrick reproduces the printer's error, _Vertuous_ for Vertues (Virtue's).

821. _For a stone has Heaven his tomb._ Cp. Sir T. Browne, _Relig. Med._ § 40: "Nor doe I altogether follow that rodomontado of Lucan (_Phars._