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The CARD OF Courtſhip: OR, The LANGUAGE OF LOVE; Fitted to the Humours of all Degrees, Sexes, and Conditions.

  • Made up of all ſorts of
    • Curious and ingenious DIALOGUES,
    • Pithy and pleaſant DISCOURSES,
    • Eloquent and winning LETTERS,
    • Delicious SONGS and SONNETS,
    • Fine FANCIES, Harmonious ODES &
    • Sweet RHAPSODIES.

LONDON, Printed by J. C. for Humphrey Moſeley; and are to be ſold at his ſhop, at the ſigne of the Prince's Arms in S. Paul's Church-yard. 1653.

To the longing Virgins, amorous Batchelors, blithe Widows, kinde Wives, and flexible Husbands, of what Honour, Title, Calling, or Converſation ſoever, within the REALM of GREAT BRI­TAIN.

Soluble Souls,

THey ſay, that Bacchus and Cupid, as they were one day going on hunting, took Minerva in a net; giving us to underſtand, that none ſo ſeemingly auſtere, but one time or other hath an itching deſire to ſport himſelf in Adonis Grove. I confeſs it comes neer to a Syllogiſme in theſe times (when Mars and Bellona ſit as Rectors o're all hearts) to ſet Venus and her Son in oppoſition againſt them, as it were to thwart the current of the times: but I hope you (Gentlemen and Ladies, Citizens and Laſſes) are not ſo far in love with the bellow­ing of the Drum, or the clangor of the Trumpet, that the ſweet and harmonious tunes of Love ſhall prove unacceptable unto you: for if ſo, my ſelf, (who have been forc­ed through whole Foreſts of bryars, by the malice of the times) of all men living, have the leaſt reaſon to whiſper theſe ſoft numbers in your eares. I dare not ſo much injure the enſuing work, as to crave pardon of the ſevereſt Stoick or auſtereſt Cy­nick for my wantonneſs, ſince not a looſe line is ſcatter'd throughout this Volume, as alſo, becauſe I know (in private) the curſteſt carper of them all, will hug me for their pleaſure (if not for their profit) For thoſe nice Ig­noramuſſes who ſlight all Courſhip as laſcivious, al Complements as trivial and enormous, I ſhall onely ſay this unto them, that love (I mean not ſuch as that of Semiramis, or Meſſalina) is the Author of all perfection: The greateſt Doctors are but Dunces, till love hath refined them, and they know what his power is; they after that becoming witty and courtly In­diters: for neceſſity findeth out the art, the lovers ardent affection com­pelling him to finde out all waies for the attaining his Miſtreſs love; diſ­courſing unto her his loyal affecti­ons in ſmooth or pleaſing termes, or elſe touching them ſweetly or dainti­ly in writing curiouſly, and with a courtlike phraſe, which art becauſe I here undertake to teach, I have nam­ed my work The CARD of COURT­SHIP; wherein are included ſuch variety of conceited Courtſhips, that (I dare boldly affirm it) you cannot wiſh for that favour, which you may not there gather. I beſeech you crop them with a courteous hand, which ſhall for ever oblige me to impor­tune for you at Loves footſtool, be­ſeeching him to uſe you according to your ſeveral conſtitutions, grant­ing you the full fruition of your de­ſires in all afety and tranquillity, So wiſhes

Your devoted ſervant, Muſophilus.
1

The Card of COURTSHIP OR, The language of LOVE.

To the Reader.

Here Cupid, in a quaint diſguiſe,
Cover'd with leaves, in ſlumber lies:
Yet doth he not himſelf ſo hide,
But all thy ſpirits will be tride,
If this Volume thou turn over,
And he awake, wanting his cover.
Here many hearts as victims ſtand:
Here read, how beauy to command,
Though rugged, like the Panthers skin;
Here thou maiſt learne to love and win.
Or if ſo happy's thy condition,
Thou of thy love haſt the fruition;
Here ſuch pleaſures thou mayſt find,
So ſweet, and of ſo various kind,
That rockt into a pleaſing dream,
Thou'lt wiſh I'd had an ampler theam.
The Arabian winde, that gently blows.
Bluſhes to the baſhful Roſe,
Yeilds not an odour of more price
Then flowers ſet in this Paradiſe.
Read: I am ſure, thou'lt not repent thee;
And I am happy to content thee.
2

Complemental Dialogues.

A Virgin licenſed by her Father to make choice of whom ſhe likes beſt for her husband, Imagine you hear one who dearly affects her, courting her after this man­ner: their names ſuppoſe to be AMANDUS, and JULIETTA.

Aman.

NOw, Lady, your Fathers goodneſs hath left you to your owne diſpoſe; and I the admirer of your vertues, have free leave to preſent my beſt af­fections: Then ſave that creature, whoſe life depends on you; whoſe every power ownes not himſelf, but you: you are that Deity to whom my heart preſents its firſt devotion, and in a holy flame, remaines a Sacrifice, till you pleaſe to accept it.

Juliet.

I ſhould prove to my ſelf unjuſt, in the neglect of one that nobly loves me; therefore what affection I may beſtow, and yet retain my freedome (I mean that freedom, by which I may on juſt occaſion withdraw my heart) I were ingrate­ful ſhould I not preſent it.

Aman.

May I become the ſcorne of time, and all mens hate purſue me, when I prove ſo foul, to give occaſion you call back your love.

3
Juliet.

Ceaſe theſe haſty proteſtations; I aſſure my ſelf, the pureneſs of your ſoul is without ſpot or blemiſh; and while you ſo continue, I ſhall boaſt me happy, i'th' glory of ſuch a choice.

Aman.

O let me fly into your boſome! on your lip confirm my happineſs; there ſtudy ſome new way of number, to multiply my bliſs. The treaſu­ries of grace and nature were quite exhauſted, to accompliſh your perfections.

Juliet.

Fie, fie; leave for ſhame.

Aman.

What, deareſt?

Juliet.

This ſuperfluous Language. I am none of thoſe Ladies that are enamoured on Poetick rap­tures, hugging the Verſe, but ſpitting at the Au­thor: none of thoſe that are taken with flattering Acroſticks; and to have their names ſo disjoynted in an Anagram, that 'twould puzzle ten Magici­ans to put them together againe. I eſteem not Gol­den Language, and I'll tell you why; becauſe 'twas ſeldome beſtowed on man, but to gild over a Copper Soul within him.

Aman.

Can you be ſo cruel, to deem my Language feign'd?

Juliet.

Nor am I. I grant you, Love and Poeſie are divine, commonly infus'd together: yet ordi­narily, 'tis ty'd to rules of flattery.

Aman.

Far be it from me, to ſpeak a Language ſhould diſpleaſe your ear.

Juliet.

Well; more Oratory would but bring the reſt into ſuſpicion whether it be real: let it ſuffice I love you; and if all occurrents ſute my expecta­tion, it ſha'n't be long ere Hymen ſeal the contract. Farewell.

Aman.

Farewell, excellent Miſtreſs.

4

Eugenia, and Flavia, two neer neighbouring Damo­ſels, diſcourſe of their loves; reſolving not to marry old men for money.

Eug.

FLavia, I kiſs your hands.

Flav.

Eugenia, I pray you pardon me; I ſaw you not.

Eug.

I ſaith you have fixt thoughts, draw yourys inward, that you ſee not your friends before you.

Flav.

True; and I think, the ſame that trouble you.

Eug.

Then 'tis the love of a young Gentleman,nd bitter hatred of an old dotard.

Elav.

'Tis ſo, witneſs your brother Franciſco, and••e rotten carcaſs of old Rodorigo: had I a hundredearts, I ſhould want room to entertain his love,nd the others hate.

Eug.

I could ſay as much, were't not ſin to ſlan­er the dead. Miſerable wenches! how have weffended our fathers, that they ſhould make us therice of their dotage, the medicines of their griefs,hat have more need of Phyſick our ſelves? I thank••y dead mother that left me a womans will, in heraſt Teſtament; that's all the weapons we poor Gyrles can uſe; and with that will I fight, againſtather, friends, and kindred, and either injoy Foooſco, or die in the field in's quarrel.

Flav.

You are happy, that can withſtand yourortune with ſo merry a reſolution.

Eug.

Why? ſhould I twine my armes to cables,••t up all night like a watching Candle, and diſtill••y brains, through my eye-lids. Your brother loves me and I love your brother; and where theſe two conſent, I would fain ſee a third could hinder us.

Fla.

Alas, our ſex is moſt wretched; no ſooner born,ut nurs'd up from our Infancy in continual ſlave­••y; no ſooner able to pray for our ſelves, but they5 braile and hud us ſo with ſowre awe of parents, that we dare not offer to bate our deſires: and whereas it becomes men to vent their amorous paſſions at their pleaſure, we (poor ſouls) muſt rake up our affections in the aſhes of a burnt heart, not daring to ſigh without excuſe of the ſpleen, or fit of the mother

Eug.

I will plainly profeſs my love; 'tis honeſt, chaſte, and ſtaines not modeſty Shall I be marri­ed (by my fathers compulſion) to an old mandrake, who is able to beget nothing but groanes; a hunt­ing-golding, a faln pack-horſe? No, no; I'll ſee him freeze to cryſtal firſt. In other things, good Fa­ther, I am your moſt obedient daughter; but in this, a pure woman. And in troth, the temper of my blood tells me, I was never born to ſo cold a misfortune: my Genius whiſpers me in the car, and ſweares, We ſhall injoy our Loves; fear it not, wench: and ſo farewell, good Elavia, farewel, farewel.

Fla.

Farewel, merry-hearted Eugenia.

Corvino, a ruſtisk clowne, complements with Beancha, a Kitchin-maid.

Corv.

HE that ſaies I am not in love, he lies de cap a pe: for I am Idle, choicely neat in my cloathes, valiant, and ex­ream witty; my meditations are loaded with Me­taphors; Songs and Sonnets flow from me as flu­ently, as Heigh, gee; not one ſhakes his tail, but Iigh out a paſſion: thus do I to my miſtreſs; butlas, I kiſs the dog, and ſhe kicks me. I never ſee a wanton Filly, but I ſay, There goes Beancha; nor a luſty ſtrong Als, but I remember my ſelf, and ſit down to conſider what a goodly race of Mules would inherit, if ſhe were willing: onely I want atterance, and that's a main mark of love too.

6
Bean.

Corvino, What price bear Wheat and Saffron, that your Band's ſo ſtiff and yellow? why Corvino, not a word! Prethee what buſineſs in Town? how do all at Totnam? Grown mute! what do you bring from the Country?

Corv.

There 'tis; now are my floud-gates drawn, and I'll ſurround her. What have I brought, ſweet bit of beauty? a hundred thouſand ſalutations o'the elder houſe, to your moſt Illuſtrious honour and worſhip.

Bean.

To me theſe Titles? is your basket full of nothing elſe?

Corv.

Full of the fruits of love, moſt reſplendent Lady; a preſent to your worthineſs, from your wor­ſhips poor vaſſal Corvino.

Bean.

My life on't he ſcrap'd theſe Complements from his Cart, the laſt load he carried to the City. But what have you read, Corvino, that makes you grow thus eloquent? why, you talk nothing but warbling Rhapſodies!

Corv.

Sweet Madam, I read nothing, but the lines of your Ladiſhips countenance; and deſire onely to kiſs the skirts of your Garments, if you vouchſafe me not the happineſs of your white hands.

Bean.

Come, give me your basket, and take it.

Cor.

O ſweet! now will I never waſh my mouth after, nor breath, but at my Noſtrils, leſt I loſe the taſte of her fingers. Beancha, I muſt tell you a ſecret, if you'l make much on't.

Bean.

As it deſerves: what is't?

Corv.

I love you, dear morſel of modeſty, I love, and ſo truly, that I'll make you miſtreſs of my thoughts, Lady of my revenues, and commit all my moveables into your hands; that is, I give you an arneſt kiſs, in the high way of Matrimony.

Bean.

This the end of all the buſineſs?

7
Corv.

Is this the end of all this buſineſs, moſt beau­tiful, and moſt worthy to be moſt beautiful Lady?

Bean.

Hence fool, hence; farewel Coidon.

Corv.

Why now ſhe knowes my buſineſs, ſhe put up the fruit in her lap, and threw away the basket; 'tis a plain ſigne ſhe abhors the words, and embra­ces the meaning. O lips! no lips, but leaves be­ſmear'd with Mildew. O dew! no dew, but drops of Honey-combs. 'Tis a rare morſel of dripping: O how happy ſhall I be to recreate my chine with her! I'll follow her, were I ſure to be baſted with Salt and Vinegar.

A Citizens wife, in love with a Suburb-Gentleman, confers with a Curtizan how to obtain his love, and yet not purchaſe her husbands diſcontent. Their names ſuppoſe to be, ARMELINA, and DECOY.

Arme.

FAin would I meet the Gentleman.

Dec.

Piſh, Faine would you meet him? why do you not take the courſe?

Arme.

The means is eaſily reſolv'd, what thinkſt thou?

Dec.

Thus: meet him at Mr. Strouds houſe, the Phenix; there's a Goſſips feaſt to morrow-night.

Arme.

O but my husbands Jealous Eyes!

Dec.
When husbands in their rank'ſt ſuſpitions dwell,
Then 'tis our beſt art to diſſemble Well,
Put but theſe notes in uſe that I'll direct you,
He'll curſe himſelf that ere he did ſuſpect you.
Perhaps, he will ſollicite you, as in tryal,
To viſite ſuch, and ſuch: ſtill give denial;
Let no Perſwaſions ſway you; they are but fetches
Set to betray you; Jealouſies, ſlignts, and reaches
8
Seem in his ſight, to endure the ſight of no man:
Put by all kiſſes, till you kiſs in common.
Neglect all entertainment: if he bring in
Strangers, keep you your Chamber; be not ſeen.
If he chance ſteal upon you, let him find
Some book lie open, 'gainſt an unchaſt mind.
Manage theſe principles but with art and life,
Welcome all Nations, thou'rt an honeſt wife.
Arme.

Here, Lady, convey my heart unto him in this Jewel: againſt you ſee me next, you ſhall per­ceive I have profited: in the mean ſeaſon, tell him I am a Priſoner yet on the Maſters ſide, my husbands Jealouſie, that maſters him as he doth maſter me; and as a Keeper that locks Priſoners up, is himſelf priſon'd under in his owne key, Even ſo my husband, in reſtraining me, With the ſame ward bais his own liberty.

Dec.

I'll tell him how you wiſht it; and I'll weare My wits to nothing, but theſe clouds ſhall cleare.

A young Citizen, Courting his Neighbours daughter. Their names ANTONIO, and BEATRICE.

Ant.

GOod morrow, ſweet Beatrice; in ex­change of this kiſs, ſee what I have brought thee from thee from the Exchange.

Beal.

What mean you, Sir, by this?

Ant.

Gheſs that by the circumſtance: here's a Ring, wear't for my ſake; twenty Angels, pocket them, you fool. Come, come, I know thou art a Maid: ſay nay, and take them.

Bea.

Sir, I beſeech you, faſten no more upon mee, then I may at eaſe ſhake off. Your gift I re­verence,9 yet refuſe: and I pray tell me, Why do do you make ſo many errands hither, ſend me ſo many Letters, faſten on me ſo many Favours? what's your meaning in't?

Anto.

Hark in thy car, I'll tell thee: Is't poſſi­ble ſo ſoft a body ſhould have ſo hard a ſoul? Nay now I know my penance; you will be angry and ſchool me for tempting your modeſty. A fig for this modeſty; it hinders many a good man from many a good turne, and that's all the good it doth: but if thou but kneweſt, Beatrice, how I love thee, thou wouldſt be far more tractable. Nay, I bar chiding when thou ſpeakſt: I'll ſtop thy lips if thou doſt but offer an angry word: by this hand I'll do't, and with this hand too.

Bea.

Sir, if you love me, as you ſay you do, ſhow me the fruits thereof.

Ant.

The ſtock I can; thou mayſt ſee the fruits heare after.

Bea.

Can I believe you love me, when you ſeek the ſhipwrack of my honour?

Anto.

Honour! there's another word to flap in a mans mouth. Honour! why ſhouldeſt thou and I ſtand upon our honour, that were neither of us yet right worſhipful?

Bea.

I am ſorry, Sir, I have lent ſo large an ear to ſuch a bad diſcourſe; and I proteſt, after this hour, never to do the like. I muſt confeſs, of all the Gentlemen that ever courted me, you have poſſeſs'd the beſt part in my thoughts: but this courſe language exiles you quite from thence. Sir, had you come, inſtead of changing this my honeſt name into a Strumpet's, to have honour'd me with the chaſte title of an honeſt wife, I had reſerv'd an ear for all your ſuits; but ſince I ſee your rudeneſs finds no limit, I'll leave you to your luſt.

10
Ant.

You ſhall not, Beatrice.

Bea.

Then keep your tongue within more mode­rate bounds.

Ant.

I will; as I am vertous, I will. I told you the ſecond word would be a mariage: it makes a man forfeit his freedome, and walk up and down e­ver after, with a chaine at his heels. Marriage is like Daedalus his Labyrinth; and being once in, there's no finding the way out. Well, I love this little property moſt intolerably; and I muſt ſet her on the laſt, though it coſt me all the ſhooes in my ſhop. Well, Beatrice, thou ſeeſt my Stomach is come down: thou haſt my heart already, there's my hand.

Beat.

But in what way?

Ant.

Nay I know not the way yet; but I hope to finde it hereafter, by your good direction.

Bea.

I mean, in what manner? in what way?

Ant.

In the way of Marriage, in the way of ho­neſty. I hope thou art a maid, Beatrice.

Bea.

Yes Sir, and I accept it; in exchange of this, you ſhall receive my heart.

Ant.

A bargain, and there's earneſt on thy lips.

A courtſhip (eloquently carried on both ſides) between a youth, and his formerly-ſollicited fair one. Their names ſuppoſe to be RADOLPHUS, and TOMASO.

Rad.

WElcome, fair one; I hope my pardon's ſeal'd, for this preſum'ng on what you might call rudeneſs

Toma.

You have ſhap'd an Apology altogether needleſs, to excuſe a guilt, when none appeares: I11 owe much to your vertue; it doth command my thoughts.

Rad.

Which are ſo glorious, I muſt admire the actions that expreſs them. I hope your judgement doth not call it ill, that my intemperate anger, be­ing grounded on vertuous ſuſpicion (laſt time I ſaw you) did tranſport me beyond a moderate paſſi­on: I am ſatisfied; your innocence hath clear'd my jealouſie.

Toma.

Sir, 'tis a noble reſolution: pure love's a vertue Nature onely teacheth, and born with ge­nerous ſpirits that diſtinguiſh the object truely; ſlighting thoſe reſpects, that work on groſter minds.

Rad.

Faireſt, I ſhall uſe no other circumſtance, or paint a paſſion my reaſons eye allowes, though my firſt ſenſe convey'd the knowledge of your out­ward form and full perfections, which muſt needs contain a richer inſide: Vertue ſeldome dwells, but in a glorious frame. I love your goodneſs, which outvies your beauty: in my new-born wiſhes, I have determin'd you the partner of all that's mine: my eſtate's not very mean; if it were, Zeal ſhould ſup­ply: I'd ſtrive to merit the free gift of your ſelf; and in exchange, returne my ſelf.

Toma.

Sir, I could anſwer you in your own words: for I preſume your thoughts are noble, like your ſelf, unmixt with flattery courtſhips inſection, and the poiſonous breath that makes pure love ſuſpect­ed, whether it be ſound, or plaiſter'd, to deceive our credulous weakneſs, till it hath poſſeſt us with ſome foul leproſie. Your handmaid yeelds to what agrees with honour; if the meanneſs of her condition may preſume to call her honeſt credit ſo.

Rad.

How do you bleſs me, as ſuddenly as my12 deſires could ſhape a means to work it! inſtantly the Church ſhall ſeal the bargain.

Tom.

Would you not deliberate? Thoſe acts are laſting, and concern the being of all your after-life.

Rad.

'Tis heavens providence that hath diſpos'd it: thus I ſeal my vowes.

The Lover having an hope now to attain his Miſtreſs grant, preſents her a Ring, with this Eulogy.

WHile this involves your heart, and Maſter-vein,
Imagine you are loſt to your diſdain:
This myſtically whiſpers in your ear,
(With your ſtrange coyneſs) I my doubts caſhiere,
Sweet, let it be ſo; do as I intend,
And (like to this) our love ſhall have no end.
The Perſians, who adore the riſing Sun,
Will have each morn a Flamin for to run
Six times about a circle, to content
Great Jove, upon his Temples battlement;
Thereby mythologizing (ſure) that he
Will love his creatures to Eternity.
This typifies, we ought to love for ever,
And that no harſh fate ought our loves to ſever.
But Rings are nothing: if true love we want,
Our hearts muſt be hem'd round with Adamant
Impregnable againſt aſſault and Batt'rie,
Not to be ta'en by fear, or won by Flatt'rie.
This ſeems to ſay, what ſongs heav'ns quire ſhal ſing
Whenas my arms ſhall be thy bodies Ring.

A pleaing Dialogue between a witty Lady, and a ſilly Gentleman: Their (ſuppoſed) names CRISPINO, and PAMELA.

CRISPINO.

I Sent you a Letter, Madam.

Pam.

I received it (Sir) to my great happi­neſs.

Crip.

How did you relliſh it, Lady?

Pam.

Excellent well (Sir) you write moſt ele­gantly. Oh that I had your Genius!

Criſp.

I have twenty as good as theſe lying by me; they ſhall be all at your ſervice.

Pam.

You are too much a Courtier: I muſt chide you: I did never deſerve thoſe Epithets your Paper throwes upon me.

Criſp.

Epithets! I beſeech you, Lady, to impute that to the fretfulneſs of my brain. If any thing rare ſlipt my pen, whereby I may incur your Ladi­ſhips indignation, I'll recant it publikely.

Pam.

I will enjoyne you no ſuch penance, for 'tis an injury eaſily remitted: 'tis the glory, they ſay, of Lovers, to Hyperbolize.

Criſp.

Hyperbolize! What's that? I have not the word yet in my Alphabet. I hope, Lady, you harbour a better opinion of me, then to imagine I would Hyperbolize with you; that were immo­deſt.

Pam.

Not at all (Sir) I think.

Criſp.

By my faith (Lady) but it is: do you think I know not what Hyperbolizing is? that were ſim­plicity. If any thing within my letters may be drawn within conſtruction of Hyperbolizing, condemn not me for it: by my ſervice, Lady, I had no in­tention to ſtretch ſo far to your diſhonour; it ſhalleach me wit to write my Letters hereafter.

Pam.

Sir, you do me too much ſatisfaction, your error being a ſmal one.

Criſp.

'Tis your favour, when I commit a Pecca­dille againſt your brightneſs: I confeſs I deſerve to be extinguiſhed your preſence for it. I did love you, Lady, (as I remember) when I was an Infant.

Pam.

How (Sir!) I hardly underſtand you.

Criſp.

We are infants, you will grant, when we cannot ſpeak; and I lov'd you full five months and a halfe ere I had power to tell you of it, I am cer­tain.

Pam.

I was not worth ſo much (Sir.)

Criſp.

Nay, for that (Lady) I'll ſhew my ſelf de­ſerving: were you worthy, it were leſs art of mine to love you; that were a poor thing: I do not ſtand on worth, Lady; I would not have you think ſo ignobly of me, that I affect you for your worth; I had rather (upon my honour) have you in your ſmock, then all the Ladies in the world ſtarke naked.

Aam.

Now your language is coarſe.

Criſp.

My love is ſure, and like the Sun tranſpa­rent.

Pam.

Now you complement; I know you are ex­cellent at it.

Criſp.

Troth not I, Lady; I cannot complement; I do but refulgent your beauty, whoſe mellifluous voice peirces the Air: 'faith, Lady, credit me, I ne'r could complement in my life. Let me ſee;

Moſt fair,
Whom young Apollo courted for her hair.

There are Poetical furies in the City; but I con­verſe not with them.

Were ever checks of Roſes, losks of Amber,
Ordain'd to be impriſon'd in a Chamber?

Lady, I do but piddle, a pretender, I know nor how to complement.

Pam.

You now (Sir) complement unto the height.

Criſp.

Alas, not I, I cannot make verſes neither.

Thy dain'y ſeal of virgin-wax,
That nothing but impreſſion lacks.
Pam.

You are an excellent Poet, I perceive (Sir.)

Criſp.

I'll tell you, Lady, a ſtrange thing; you ſee theſe trifles: before I was in love, I could not have made an Acroſtick in a day, ſometimes two.

Pam.

Now you can make Chronograms.

Criſp.

I think I can; and Anagrams, for a need.

Pam.

Sir, you are wondrouſly improv'd; Love has inſpir'd you richly; I perceive Cupid is a mute too.

Criſp.

I cannot ſleep anights, for the multitude of Verſes that are capering in my skull.

Pam.

I wonder you are not mad.

Criſp.

You may, but I have a gift to help it; I al­low my ſelf ſet times to vent them, they would blow me up elſe.

Pam.

As how, I pray (Sir?) I long to hear this.

Criſp.

Why thus: in the morning, when I have ſaid my prayers in verſe (which fall from me, and I ne'r think on 'em) next my heart I ſcribble out an Ode: after my breakfaſt, I fall upon a Satyr: when I have rail'd my ſelf into a freſh ſtomach (you underſtand me) a matter of two hours I dream, as it comports with our Britiſh Bards to ſleep; then, I ſay, I dream familiarly an Heroick Po­em.

Pam.

Dream! how mean you (Sir?)

Criſp.

Lady, while you live, your dreaming Po­es are the beſt, and have diſtilled raptures; I mean, ſpirits that converſe with them, and reach them what to write. This I ſet down before I eat againe; after, I walk upon the ſtrength of ſupper into the Park, and ruminate an Elegie: at return, I do diſcourſe of Epigrams, and Epitaphs, upon ſome one or other of my kinred.

Pam.

'Tis now your courſe for your Heroick Poem; 'twere beſt you ſlept (Sir:) I'll take my leave.

A mrry Paſtoral Dialogue, maintained between two Shepherds, viz. CLAIUS, and CLEOPHON.

CLAIUS.
WHich is ſhe, among the Swains,
On whom the gentle Claius dains
To caſt a ſheeps-eye, nod, or wink,
But does her ſelf immortal think?
Who, indeed, has ſuch a face,
So full of a bewitching grace?
My head loves pillow where he does reſt,
As ſafe as Magpie in her neſt:
My ſorehead ſweetly is beſpred
With Violets, and Tulips blew and red:
The amber Couſlip, and th' coral Roſe,
Precious complexion of my ſweeter noſe:
My eyes are elements from which fall ſhowers
That make my cheeks a ſpring of ſev'ral flowers:
So is my head a noſegay growing on one ſtalk;
My body is the garden, though it walk;
And there's no woman but may well
To the worſt part about it ſmell.
My armes are Dragons, that defend all theſe
Now view'd in me, living Heſperides.
CLEOPHON.
Who looks on Claius, that will not ſuppoſe
The bluſhing Piony growing on his noſe?
The yellow Primroſe, that in woods had went
To flouriſh, ſprings up in his amber front.
CLAIUS.
When they on Strephon will not gaze,
On me they ſtare, with much amaze;
And when on him, as on a clown,
With lowring looks they ſcowle and frown;
Let gentle Claius but vouchſafe
To let them look on him, they laugh.
CLEOPHON.
And well they may; for when they look upon
Thy face, they view all fools conjoyn'd in one.

A Dialogue (for the recreation of the Reader) ſuppoſed between BOMBO, and JACOMO.

BOMBO.
I Tell thee, honeſt Jacomo, that I
No more affect a woman, then the skie
Does birds that ſoare in it; they are as vain,
Inconſtant as the flying ſhow'rs of rain.
JACOMO.
And for my part (friend Bombo) there's no maid,
Whether in home-ſpun gray, or ſilks arayd,
But when ſhe Jacomo doth view,
Though I hye, but will purſue;
Throw her eyes out on my ſhape,
Call me Pigmey, pretty ape:
Some there are that do ſuppoſe
Loves hot fire is in my noſe,
With which they ſcorcht, for pitty cry,
Blow it out, Jacomo, or we die.
Other ſay my head's a bell,
My hair the ropes that ring the knell;
Here's a Leg as neatly made,
As any o're a woman layd;
A thigh proportionable, I tak't;
O the maids long to ſee it nak'd!
A tayle, ſome ſay, does hang thereby,
Which none muſt know but thee and I.
I have a back too, though I ſay't
That ſhould not, can bear any weight:
Full limbs, with ſinews ſtrong and plump;
A luſtie chine; and for my rump,
'Tis ſo well made, and firmly knit,
The widows all are mad for it.
BOMBO.
Women are ſhadows, fly away,
When follow'd, or deſir'd to ſtay:
But if you ſlight them, they will ſue,
Follow, intreat, nay fly to you:
But if ſtiff and ſtrong you ſtand,
You may treat them at command;
But lye down, the pretty Elves
Will ſtreight fall under you of themſelves.
Like my Spaniel, beaten, they
Will lick your lips, and with you play.
This is the ſole reaſon why
They love me ſo doggedly.
Women are ſlippery as Eels;
Their mindes are light as are their heels;
And every one's for what ſhe feels.
JACOMO.
Who would truſt a woman, when
They are the onely curſe of men?
Syrens ſing but to entice
The men to a fools paradice.
Hyenas ſpake but to betray
To certain ruine; ſo do they.
Crocodiles ſhed teares of ſlaughter;
Women weep when they mean laughter.
Inconſtant, cruel, falſe, unkind,
Are attributes that ſuit their mind.

A Dialogue between GALFREDO, and ROSANA.

ROSANA.

SIr, I cannot ſinde how I am guilty of any cauſe may prompt you to ſuſpect either my love on duty.

Gal.

I believe thee (dear Roſana:) but this in­junction is ſo ſevere and ſtrange, it cannot chuſe but puzzle thy conſent at firſt.

Roſ.

Sir, make it known; I cannot be ſo flow in the performance of your will, as you are to re­veal it.

Gal.

Thy breath is far more ſweeter then the ſmoak aſcending from the Phenix funeral-pile; I could kiſs thee, even engender on thy lips.

Roſ.

You were not wont to be thus pleas'd: ſhew me, good Sir, which way I may require your paſſi­on; ſpeak the ſuit you talk on.

Gal.

Dear Roſana, I do love thee, love thee, and would enjoy thee.

Roſ.

How (Sir) dare you divulge to me ſuch bru­tiſhneſs? indeed the beaſts promiſcuouſly do mix, but man made in the likeneſs of the Gods, orders his actions to a ſafer end. Fare you well (Sir) I dare not hear you further.

A Dialogue between DANDALO, and LAURIANA.

DANDALO.

DEareſt Miſtreſs, when ſhall my ardent love be made compleatly happy by the enjoying that, which it makes the object of deſire? ſhall this fair morning be conſecrated to Hymen?

Lau.

Worthy Sir, ſo great is the Antipathy be­twixt your birth and fortune and my condition, whoſe inferiour aime dares not be levell'd higher then its equality, makes (cowards policy) fear to be ſole and true excuſe of my delay; for (Sir) were you once ſatiated with the thing you call pleaſure, your edge taken off, I know not what there is in me can whet new appetite, or revive a dying love.

Dan.

Why? I'll keep thee like my wife; be con­ſtant to my pleaſure, be ſure I'll ſerve thy will with full content: my credit 's ſafe: to keep a Miſtreſs youths excuſe may ſerve, but an inferiour match brands my poſterity.

Lau.

Sir, I do hate your baſe deſires; may your ſoul luſts ſtill keep you companie, until abuſe and ſhame teach you amendment; what a brave Ora­tor is ſin! how it can paint it ſelf with golden words of pleaſure and delight!

Dan.

I never could brook theſe women-preachers: Fare you well, Lady.

Lau.

Would you could (Sir) ſo ſoon take leave of Luſt.

A rough Souldier, in diſcourſe with a ſoft Lady.

ALLINDRO, and IPHIGENIA.
ALLINDRO.

NOw, Lady, are you in haſt? or do you ſlight a preſence may challenge your obſervance? I am come confident of my merit, to inform you, you ought to yeild me the moſt ſtrict regard your love can offer.

Iphi.

Sir, I am not (though I affect not ſelf-con­ceited boaſt) ſo ignorant of my worth, but I de­ſerve from him who will enjoy me, a reſpect more fair and court like.

Allin.

The blunt phraſe of war is my accuſtom'd language; yet I can tell you y'are very handſome, and direct your looks with a becoming poſture; I muſt ſpeak in the Heroick Dialect, as I uſe to court Bellona, when my deſires aime at a glorious victo­ry.

Iphi.

You'll ſcarce conquer a Lady with this ſtern diſcourſe; Mars did not woo the Queen of love in armes, but wrapt his batter'd limbs in Perſian ſilkes, or coſtly Tyrian purples, ſpoke in ſmiles to win her tempting beauty.

Allin.

I'll bring well-manag'd troops of Souldi­ers to the fight, draw big battalia's like a moving field of ſtanding corn blown one way by the winde, againſt the frighted enemy; the Van ſhall ſave the Rere a labour, and by me marſhal'd ſhall fold bright conqueſt in the curles. Peneian Daphne, who did fly the Sun, ſhall give her boughes to me for raviſhment, to inveſt my awful front; and this ſhall proſtrate (ſpight of all oppoſition) your nice ſoul to my commanding merit.

Iphi.

Theſe high tearms were apt to fright an enemy, or beget terrour in flinty boſomes. Can you think a timerous Lady can affect her feare, yield the ſecurity of her peace and life to the pro­tection of her horrour? you muſt not perſwade my thoughts, that you who vary to the ſcene of love, can act it preſently.

Allin.

Slighted (Lady!) 'tis a contempt inhumane, and deſerves my utmoſt ſcorne: I muſt finde one more pliant.

Some perſon of honour being enamoured on a country-Genilewoman, a diſpute ſuppoſed between MONTALTO, and GENTILLA.

MONTALTO.

YOu have no fear (Gentilla) to truſt your ſelf with me.

Gent.

I can (Sir) forget my ſelf ſo much, as to forget you are my Lord, &c. and in a wilderneſs could have no thought, with the leaſt prejudice up­on your vertue.

Mon.

You have the greater innocence at home; my intents are fair enough, and you may ſtand the danger of a queſtion: pray how old are you?

Gent.

Although it be not held a welcome com­plement to our ſex, my duty bids me not diſpute. I am Fifteen, my mother ſays, (my Lord.)

Mon.

And are you not in love?

Gen.

I muſt not charge my ſelf with ſo much Ig­norance, to anſwer that I underſtand not what it meanes. I know the word, but never could apply the ſence, or finde in it a paſſion more then ordi­nary.

Mon.

Cupid hath loſt his quiver then; he could not be arm'd, and let you ſcape, whoſe ſole capti­vity would be more glory then the conqueſt made, (as Poets feigne) upon the Gods.

Gen.

'Tis language with which you are pleas'd to mock your humble hand-maid.

Mon.

But this aſſures him blind.

Gen.

He would deſerve to loſe his eyes indeed, if he ſhould aime a ſhaft at me.

Mon.

Lady, you have a heart.

Gen.

To which no other flame can approach, then that which ſhall light it to obedience of your will, and my good mothers.

Mon.

Obedience to my will? what if it were my will that you ſhould love?

Gen.

Sir, I do love.

Mon.

Love with the warm affection of a Mi­ſtreſs?

Gen.

Him whom I affect (Sir) muſt not preſume to fold me in his arms, till Hymens torches ſhall burn bright. Him whom I love, muſt be my huſ­band (Sir.)

Mon.

What if ſome great man court you for his friend? This age affords few women, but they will now and then hold up their laps, and let love en­ter in a golden ſhowre: But I ſhall take a fitter time for this Your ſervitor.

Gen.

Your Hand-maid.

A rich, but ſimple Gentleman, thus wooes and wins a counterfeit Lady, who not unwillingly yeilds to his ſuit: their names ſuppoſe are PƲPILLƲS, and FLAVIA.

Pupillus.

HOw, and how ſtands the buſineſs?

Flav.

Nay, you know beſt.

Pup.

Perceive you not an alteration, or tranſmutation in my outward perſon?

Flav.

Methinks your words fall off your tongue with a more becoming grace.

Pup.

Think ye ſo? be wiſe and catch 'em as they fall; they may inſpire you.

Flav.

you are ſtrangely Metamorphos'd ſince I ſaw you.

Pup.

O Lady, If your heart be ſtone, I would it were broken.

Flav.

I have heard men wiſh their Mi­ſtreſs heart wounded, never broke.

Pup.

P'ſhew, my love is not like other mens, that will whine, and cry, look pale, and wear night-caps; no, my love is a bouncing love, and makes no more of cracking a La­dies heart, then a Squirrel of a nut: but hark you a word in you ear (for I would not have any body know it) I am inſpir'd.

Flav.

Now by Diana, is it true?

Pup.

I have ſaid it; be wiſe, and have me.

Flav.

O you men have ſuch ſtrange waies to play upon poor women!

Pup.

Nay there's but one way I'd play upon you.

Flav.

And will diſſemble moſt egregi­ouſly.

Pup.

Who, I diſſemble? why I'll be judg'd by all the world; yet all my acts are not ſim­ple.

Flav.

Nay, I almoſt believe you have not a thought but what is meerly innocent.

Pup.

If you'll but marry me, there is not that deſire or inclination, which you ſhall have, but I will ſtrive with my beſt part to ſatisfie; what would you more?

Flav.

I muſt confeſs you promiſe fair:

Pup.

And will perform as well.

Flav.

Alas! my Virgin-feares bid me I ſhould not yeild. I know not what to do.

Pup.

Come, I know what to do, and you'll but ſay I once.

Flav.

Why then I wholly yeild me yours.

Pup.

That's well ſaid, this kiſs in earneſt; come we'll not ſtand long upon the buſineſs, but be marryed preſently: I muſt provide Ribbond for the Courtiers; but that coſt may be ſpar'd, now I think on't, for their Hats are ſo ſtuff'd with Favours already, they'll finde no room to wear 'em: come then march forwards.

Hymen! O Hymen! ſnuff thy torch, and ſee,
A pair of Lovers lead their way to thee.

A Gentlewoman flattering her Suitor (who was none of the wiſeſt) with hopes of en­joying her, thus rccoſts him: Their names ſuppoſe to be SYLLI, and CAMIOLA.

Camiola.

YOu ſee how tender I am of the quiet and peace of your affection, and what great ones I put off in your favour.

Syl.

You do wiſely, exceeding wiſely! and when I have ſaid, I thank you for't, be happy.

Com.

And good reaſon, in having ſuch a bleſſing.

Syl.

When you have it; but the Bait is not, yet ready; ſtay the time, while I triumph by my ſelf. Rivals, by your leaves; I have wip'd all your noſes, without a Napkin; you may cry Willow, Willow; I'll onely ſay, Go by, go gaze now where you pleaſe: your lips may water, like a Puppies, over a Firmety-pot, while Sylli out of his two-leav'd Cherry­ſtone-diſh drinks Nectar. I cannot hold out any longer; Heaven forgive me, 'tis not the firſt Oath I have broke; Lady, I muſt take a kiſs or two, onely for a preparative.

Cam.

By no means; if you forſwear your ſelf, we ſhall not proſper: I had rather loſe my longing.

Syl.

Pretty ſoul, how careful it is of me! Let me buſs yet thy little dainty foot for't: that I am ſure is out of my Oath.

Cam.

Why? if thou canſt diſpence with it ſo far, I'll not be ſcrupulous; ſuch a fa­vour my amorous Shoomaker ſometimes ſteales.

Syl.

O moſt rare Leather! I do begin at the loweſt, but in time I may grow higher.

Cam.

Fie, you dwell too long there: riſe, prethee riſe.

Syl.

O I am up already.

A civil Complement, between a great Lord, and an honourable Lady: their names are GIOVANNI, and FIORINDA.

Giovanni.

Madam, THat without warrant I pre­ſume to trench upon your pri­vacies, may argue rudeneſs of manners. But the free acceſs your princely courteſie vouch­ſafes to all that come to pay their ſervices, gives me hope to finde a gracious pardon.

Fio.

If you pleaſe not to make that an Of­fice in your conſtruction, which I receive as a large favour from you, there needs not this A­pology.

Gio.

You continue as you were ever, the greateſt myſtery of fair entertainment.

Fio.

You are, Sir, the Maſter, and in the Country have learnt to out-do all that in Court is practis'd; but why ſhould we talke at ſuch diſtance? Sir, give me leave to ſay you are too punctual: You are welcome, Sir; therefore ſit and diſcourſe as we here uſed, for we have been more familiar.

Giov.

Your Excellence knows ſo well how to command, that I can never erre when I o­bey you.

13

A Gentleman, accidentally ſeeing a Gentlewoman whom on the ſudden be exceedingly affects, thus courts her.

Man.

LEt me not be thought rude (beautious Miſtreſs) that being altogether a ſtran­ger to you, I dare aſſume ſuch conſi­dence, as to proclaim my ſelf your Votary, and without a bluſh ſay I love you. If you beheld your ſelf with my eyes, or ſympathized of my paſſion (which though young of growth, hath a firm fixed root) you would not (I preſume) tax me of giddie raſhneſs, that I ſuffer my ſelf ſo ſoon to be bound in loves fetters.

Wom.

Sir, you are an over-haſty lover, to ima­gine I can at firſt ſight of your perſon be ſurpriz­ed, and yield: they muſt be ſtrong allurements, muſt rempt a baſhful Virgin, ſtill inur'd to no companion but her feares and bluſhes, to give her heart away, and live in thraldome to a ſtranger.

Man.

Love (bright Miſtreſs) has Eagles eyes; it can beget aquaintance, even in a moment, ſud­denly as time, the time that does ſucceed it.

Wom.

Sir, it ſeems you have ſtudied Complement.

Man.

Sweereſt beauty, to make the addreſſes of my love-ſick heart plain and apparent to you, that you may ſearch through my ſoul, and find it all your creature, give me your patient hearing.

Wom.

'Tis a requeſt might tax my manners, ſhould I deny it to one that 's noble (as your per­on promiſes.) Uſe your pleaſure.

Man.

Which conſiſts in viewing your bright beau­ty, the Idea of all perfections which the Jealous heavens durſt ever lend to earths divineſt Lady. Mine (Lady) is a holy intellectual zeal, paſt imita­tion, ſhould thoſe who trace me take the conſtan­ty of Swans, or never-changing Turtles.

14
Wom.

Sir, he's a fooliſh lover, who, to gain his miſtreſs, dares not promiſe what you have utter'd: but I muſt have more then verbal aſſurance of your love.

Man.

By your faire ſelf, I am real; do intend what I have told you, with as much true zeal as An­chorites, do their prayers; and do implore you, as you have mercy in you, to take pity upon my loves ſtern ſufferings, and redreſs them, by your conſent to take me for your husband.

Wom.

I dare not, Sir, to give away my ſelf upon ſo ſlender arguments, as your owne bare report of true love: time and experience may produce, what yet I muſt not hope to hear on.

Man.

Honor me then ſo much, as to permit me wait you home: and when that task is done, and I muſt part from you, as exiles from their native ſoile, pray think on me, as one that has plac'd his full extent of bliſs in your injoying: think you are the Landwrack, by which the brittle Veſſel of my hopes muſt through loves ſwelling ocean be directed, to a ſafe harbour.

Wom.

You are too powerfull in your ſpeech: you'l put your ſelf unto a tedious trouble to gain a thing; which when you are poſſeſt of, you will re­pent your travel.

Inſtructions (directed by the Author primarily to the vulgar, yet he exempts not ſome Gentlemen) host to demean themſelves to their Miſtreſſes.

YOu muſt not acoaſt her with••ſhing, as you were ſo wzie, with your Lady, Sweet Lady, or moſt ſuper-excellent Lady; nor in the Span­iſh garb, with a ſtate-face, as you had been eating15 of a Radiſh, and meant to ſwallow her for Mutton to't: nor let your words come rumbling forth, other'd with a good full-mouth'd Oath, I love you: but ſpeak the language of overcomming Lovers; I do not mean that ſtrange pedantick phraſe us'd by ſome gallants who do aime at wit, and make themſelves ſtarke aſſes by't; praiſe their Miſtreſſes by the Sun and Stars, while the poor Gyrles ima­gine they mean the ſignes their Mercers or Perfu­mers inhabit at: But you muſt in gentle, free, and genuine phraſe, deliver your true affections; praiſe your Miſtreſſes Eye, her Lip, her Noſe, her Check, her Chin, her Neck, her Breſt, her Hand, her Foot, her Leg, her every thing; and leave your Roſes and your Lilies for your Country-Froes to make Noſegaies of.

A gentleman ſollicites a vertuous Gentlewoman to have the uſe of her body, onely to prove her: Their names ſuppoſe to be ROBERTUS, and LUCRETIA.

Rob.

ARe you ſtill reſolute (my deareſt Miſtreſs) to perſiſt in your ſtrange ty­ranny, and ſcorne my conſtant love?

Luc.

Do not, Sir, abuſe that ſacred title which the powers celeſtial glory in, by aſcribing it to your not deſires; pray rather clothe them in their own attributes; term them your luſt, Sir, you wild irre­gular luſt.

Rob.

This is coyneſs, a cunning coyneſs, to make me eſteem at a high rate, that Jewel which youeem to part from ſo unwillingly: (Merchants uſet, to put bad ware away:) think how much gold and ſilver thou ſhalt gain, in the exchange of one16 poor trivial commodity: that thing call'd Honour, which you ſo much ſtand upon, is meerly an ima­ginary voice, an unſubſtantial eſſence; and yet for that thou ſhalt have real pleaſures, ſuch as Queens, prone to delicious Luxury, would cover, to ſate their appetites.

Lucr.

Away, Sir, you have a canker'd ſoul; and know, Sir, not your eſtate (were you rich Croeſus heire) ſhall buy my honour.

Rob.

Pray, ſweet, forgive me; ſeal it with one chaſte kiſs, and henceforth let me adore you as the ſaver of my honour (had I meant as I ſaid.) My truth and ſames preſerver, by heaven, I did but try you (I muſt confeſs) having a great amb't'on to prove them lyers, who extol'd your worth. Had you yelded to my deſires (my looſer heart by your conſent extinquiſht) I ſhould have eſteem'd (yea, divulg'd it to the world) that you were but a piece of counterfeit gold, a fair houſe haunted with Goblins, which none but a mad-man would enter to poſſeſs: but I have found your worth, and beg your pardon.

Lucre.

You have it, Sir, although 'twas not well done to tempt a womans weaknes. Fare you wel, Sir.

Rob.

Farewell, the beſt of women.

The wooer (that he may the better facilitate his full to the miſtreſs) thus enters into conſerence with her maid.

Wooer.

SWeet Beancha, thou art entirely loved of her whom I love more then my own life; thou art preſent at all her critical minutes; rub'ſt her toes, and helpſt to pull her ſmock ore her ears: prethee, when opportunity ſhall conſpire with time, and thou hear'ſt thy Miſtreſs praiſing or pitying her wooers (mentioning me amongſt the reſt) let me have thy applauſive vote: I know thou art prevalent with her, 'bove all her other menials.

17
Maid.

Sir, you have amply oblig'd my grati­tude, and (indeed) have bought my ſuffrage. Sir, expect my utmoſt oratory on your behalf.

Wooer.

Sweeteſt Beancha, I am ſpaciouſly bound to thee, and ſhall ever continue thy beneficial friend: prethee wear this Diamond for luck-ſake: there's twenty good Angels immur'd in that one ſtone; I give them as thy guard: take heed, Beancha, that thou prove true unto me, the ſtone wil loſe its vertue elſe.

Maid.

Fear not my fidelity: Sir, did you but know how I ſollicite for you

Wooer.

Nay, my Beancha, do not think I have leaſt doubt of thy paſt paines, or future perſeverence. If I obtain this Gentlewoman, thou ſhalt have cauſe to thank that fate that deſtin'd thee for this employ­ment. But prethee deal candidly with me; how ſtands the affections of thy miſtreſs towards her fie­ry ſuitor Mr. E. N? I fear, the vaſtneſs of his wealth will excuſe the ſhallowneſs of his wit, and make him gratious in her eyes.

Maid.

Never doubt him, Sir: my Miſtreſs, though ſhe hold it not convenient quite to eject him from her preſence, harbours not one good thought of him: ſhe hath profeſt to me in private, that in her eſteem he's a meer ſtick of ſugar-candy; and indeed, ſhe ſees quite thorow him. But, if my deſires do not delude my hopes, you are the Jaſon, Sir, that win this Medea, and the Golden Fleece to boot: nor do I doubt it.

Wooer.

Thou ſing'ſt ſweetly in my ears: touch but this ſtring, and I could ſtand a froſty winters night, ſhrowded but with my ſhirt, to hear thy melody. If our united ſtrength can but take in this fort, we'll mutually triumph, and ſhare one happineſs. Some two hours hence, I mean to view my goddeſs. Fare­well, my beſt Beansha.

Bean.

Your beſt wiſhes wait on you, worthy Sir.

18

A Gentleman fired with the report of a rich (but nice widow) having abruptly forced himſelf into her company, thus ſollicites her.

Man.

YOur pardon (lovely widow) for my bold intruſion. The blind boy hathwings, to ſigniſie expedition; is ever arm'd, to ſhow that he can make way (if need be) through the ſtricteſt oppoſition. The fame of your feature, & not the report of your wealthy poſſeſſions, hath put me upon this practice (I mean, this unexpected viſiting you) which ſo many mortals (either funiſhed with too much temerity, or elſe not qualified with ſuffi­cient audacity) have (hitherto) feared to attempt, weakened (it ſeems) with a double wound; the auſterity of your deportment, and the radiant re­fulgencie of your Star-like eyes: the firſt more painfull then the latter; and the latter more in­ſupportable then the firſt.

Wid.

Indeed, Sir, you have amply diſcovered your ſelf to be more raſh then wiſe, more giddy then grave, and more perverſe then politick. What have you heard of me, that might incourage you to this ſupercilious ſawcineſs? I muſt tell you, Sir, that you have proclaimed your owne unworthi­neſs, with your owne tongue, by this wayward way of wooing. Do you think, Sir, to ingratiate your ſelf into my favour by your daring Impudence? He that preſcribes himſelf the way to gain a good opinion from me, muſt win it by his obſequious care, not by his abrupt arrogancie.

Man.

Fair Widow, let me implore remiſſion for this firſt fault; my future carriage towards you, ſhall be but one contiuned ſeries, commixt of love19 and ſervice. When I firſt hearkned to the breath of Fame (too thrifty in divulging your rare feature) I felt the flames of true affection hovering about my heart: but this inch of time that my eyes have been ſo bleſt to gaze on your bright beauty, Cupid hath caſt all Aeina in my boſome; and without you be pleas'd to afford me love, I ſhall expire in flames, and be converted to an heap of Cinders.

Wid.

You have the art for to paint out a paſſion: but were it granted Cupid thus hath caught you, count you me, Sir, ſo levious, as to returne a grant of what (perhaps) is not in me to give, unto a man meerly a ſtranger unto me (before this interview) an acquaintance of half an hours growth? Sir, I muſt know your breeding, and your worth; your ſubſtance, and the temper of your mind, ere I aſ­ſent unto a ſecond marriage: but if heaven keep me ſixt to my reſolves, were there no better feed­ers of Pedigrees, then I am like to prove, Nature will have no cauſe for to complain of her too nu­merous breed.

Man.

Dear Widow, you ſhall have a full teſti­mony of me: my birth's not mean, my educa­tion hath been vertuous; nor is my eſtate yet ſunk beneath the degree of fear. But do not ſay, (nor for both the Indies think) you'l end your daies in ſolitude, and like the melancholy Phenix, ingender with your ſelf; twill-give the babling vulgar cauſe to think, that your dead husband was no compleat man; or that your ſelf, by ſome default in nature, takes no felicity in amorous acts. O ſlie this ſingle life! Venus hath two Doves to draw her Chariot: Daphne was metamorphos'd to a tree; curel Anax­eret, to a marble ſtatue: but flexible Ariadne, con­verted to a glorious Star, her browes ingirt with a bright wreathe of Saphires. Nor was there any20 kind and gentle ſemale, propitious to her lover, or her wedded mate, but the all-powerful Ports have divulg'd them for eminent conſtellations, pleaſant flowers, and mates for Goddeſſes.

Wid.

This is vain Poetry. But Sir, becauſe I will not ſeem too rigid, or chriſten my ſelf cruel; here­after, when I know you better, have learnt what you have been, and what you are, you may expect as much as may be thought, from her who hugs her not proudly obſtinate; muſt think him truly man, whom ſhe can honour; hates not the poor, yet loves not beggery; and would in all things be a com­pleat woman.

Man.

May I then have the promiſe of ſuch happi­neſs, as in the mean time, til your doubts are ſolv'd, to have acceſs unto you. By all things vertuous, no unbeſeeming errand, unbecoming geſture, or di­ſtaſteful act, ſhall give you cauſe to hate, or me to fear: onely debar me not ſometimes to ſee you.

Wid.

You have your wiſh, Sir: as you are a Gen­tleman, I dare not to deny you ſuch a favour; yet let not your viſits be too frequent, too early in the morning, or too late at night. Sir, this large diſpen­ſation had not been, were I not confident of your noble thoughts, and what you (ſeemingly) ſincere­ly promiſe.

Man.

You bleſs me above meaſure.

A friend meeting an acquaintance of his accidentally at the Tavern.

The fir.

MR. E.D. Bacchus hath much befriended me, to guide my feet to ſuch an happi­neſs as to imbrace you here, whoſe company I have21 ever called, my chiefe ſolace.

The ſec.

Sir, you are pleaſed to take notice of him, who is altogether unworthy your acquaintance, and whoſe utmoſt ambition is to be liſted amongſt the number of your humbleſt ſervants.

The firſt.

O friend! you ſtrive to be acute in your reſponſions, and would fain oblige me your crea­ture, by your voluntary ſubmiſſiveneſs. With leave of your ſelf, and this your worthy friend, let this room hold all three. But why, dear friend, have you ſo long abſented your ſelf from my dwelling?

The ſec.

Sir, I hope you have not been in priſon, or have commenc'd a ſuit in Law, or been viſited with ſickneſs, that ſwiſt time (in your opinion) ſeems to flag his wings, or to have ſprain'd his feet. It is but ſix daies ſince (accompani'd with our loving mate Mr. I.R.) I ſupt with you and your fair wife, at your own manſion.

The firſt.

You have reſolv'd my querie. Six daies (ſaid you?) why to me (who love you) by computa­tion it appeares ſix months. Pilades and Oreſtes ſlept beneath one roof; Damon and Pithius never took two waies: our friendſhip hath been long, let it be laſting. Do you not know my ſelf? all my Deme­ſticks, whatever I call mine (my wife excepted) are at your command.

The ſe.

Sir, I have ever been beholding to you, and do confeſs your many bountious favours are far be­yond the hope of my requital: I love not, Sir, to heap upon the tally.

The firſt.

Now you wrong your judgement, and deſert, your firſt faire principles: this language doth imply, you dare not truſt my goodneſs: this (dear friend) deſerves ſevere amercement: I will preſcribe your penance; you ſhall for one whole fortnight reſt beneath my roof; nor22 eat nor drink but in my company; this to begin from the firſt minute that we leave this place: and as a tye unto this ſtipulation, pledge me this bowl of ſack.

The ſecond.

You may command your creature; I'll pledge you, with a hearty zeal; although I fear you by this ſolemn contract have but found out a way to charge your ſelf.

The firſt.

No more of that (dear friend.)

A young man who hath formerly ſollicited, and receiv­ed a repulſe, thus renews the onſet, and prevailes.

Young man.

SWeeteſt, I hope your late refuſal of my love, is alter'd now, by your more gentle pity. My conſtancy carries more ſtrength about it, then to be blaſted with your firſt repulſe. Forc'd forward by the cauſe of my affection, I muſt again be advocate, and hope my ſuit will be effected.

Maid.

Sir, I beſeech you, make me not thus the ſubject of your mirth or complement: your ſoul is too ſecure (however you are pleas'd to talk) in its owne manly vertues, from ſurprize of weak af­fection.

Young man.

Your bright eyes, like heavens bleſt light, when from a miſt of clouds he peeps, and gilds the earth with brightneſs, can quicken and fire even marble hearts, with love; thaw ſouls of Ice. A malefactor's fears are more upon him ere he do come to his tryal, then when he hears the Judge pro­nounce the ſentence of his death; 'tis ſo with me; and I ſhould be more bleſt, to hear that voice of yours, with a ſevere refuſal ſtrike me dead, then live tormented in a ſad ſuſpence, ignorant of my deſtinies

23
Maid.

Sir, could I frame my Virgine-thoughts to love, they ſhould be fix'd on you: but I am ſo well content and ſetled in a Virgin life, I cannot wiſh to change it.

Young man.

Alas, fair maid, Virg'nity is but a ſingle good, a happineſs which, like a Miſers wealth, is as from others, ſo from your owne uſe, lockt up and cloſely cabin'd, ſince it admits no communication of its good. When you ſhall in the ſtate of marriage freely taſte Natures choice pleaſures, you will repent you much you ere affect­ed a ſingle life.

Maid.

You have prevail'd: receive me freely. I am yours for ever.

Young man.

Let this kiſs ſeal the contract.

The parting of two friends.

The firſt.

SIr, I am infinitely ſorry, that my e­mergent buſineſs will not permit me yet longer to enjoy your company.

The ſecond.

Sir, you beſt know your owne occaſi­ons; I ſhall not deſire to detain you a minute lon­ger then you may ſafely ſwear 'twill prove no de­triment unto your ſtate.

The firſt.

You are noble in all your deportments; and ſhall ingage me firmly, if you'll but pleaſe, about to morrow this time, to honour me with your perſon at my houſe.

The ſec.

Sir, I ſhall wait on you the hour you wiſh; but with aſſured hope to find you no nonreſident.

The firſt.

Elſe let me forfeit your fair friendſhip. Farewell, my worthy friend; I ſhall expect you.

The ſecond.

Except great Jove once more con­tract two nights in one, to ſport with his Alemena, and Morpheus drive Sol's chariot, I will not fail. Much happineſs wait on you, Sir.

24

An humorous conceited fellow meeting an old (but painted) Gentlewoman. Their names, CACADROMO, and Miſtreſs FULSOME.

Cac.

Save thee, ſweet parcel of paint; you come from the Oyl ſhop now.

Ms. Fulſ.

How, Sirhah! from whence!

Cac.

Why, from your ſcurvy face-phyſick. I have met thee often in this angle of the City. To behold thee not painted, inclines ſomewhat near a miracle. Theſe in thy face, were deep ruts, and foul ſloughs, the laſt progreſs thou mad'ſt to thy ſuburb-bawd. There was a Lady in France, that having had the Small Pox, flea'd the skin off her face, to make it more level; and where before ſhe look'd like a Nutmeg-grater, ever after ſhe reſembled an abor­tive hedge-hog.

Ms. Fulſ.

You are a ſooliſh knave; do you call this painting?

Cac.

No, no; but you call it carreening of an old morphew'd Lady, to make her diſimbogue again. There's rough-caſt phraſe, to your plaſtique. Fare­well, old crone of Cappadocia.

Ms. Fulſ.

Now the curſe of Cuckolds light upon thee.

A friend having brought one of his acquaintance home, thus entertains him.

JULIO, COSMO.
Jul.

Sir, I have too much intrencht upon your patience, to bring you thus far, for ſo poor a wel­come.

25
Coſ.

You have oblig'd my gratitude above thought: your heart I ſee's as fairly ſpacious, as this your well-built, richly ſurniſht fabrick. I am too poor in Courtſhip, to expreſs how I accept this favour.

Jul.

You abound in all perfections. Pleaſe you ſit, and taſte thoſe homely cates my houſe affords, which I preſent unto you with as awful love, as mortals offer incenſe to the Deities.

Coſm.

You prompt me what to ſay, Sir: thoſe words tranſvers'd, would better fit my utterance.

Jul.

Pray, Sir, let this be but a formal entrance unto our future friendſhip: I am oblig'd to you for many favours; in the performance of which courteſies, you have ſhown your ſelf the legitimate ſon of your moſt worthy father, aſwell heire to his Vertues, as his Lands

Coſm.

Sir, Challenge all my ſervices, as your owne; command whatere is mine: all my facul­ties ſhall be imployed, to practiſe retribution.

Jul.

Sir, I thank you, and ſhall be ever preſt to gratifie your goodneſs. Pray, Sir, eat; how relliſh you this Greekiſh wine?

Coſm.

'Tis pretious as the milk of Queens; I have not dranke the like: great Ottoman himſelf quaffs not a purer liquor. Sir, to our future a­mity.

Jul.

I moſt cordially thank you. My houſe was never furniſht untill now, your preſence makes me happy.

Coſm.

Sir, You too much grace your ſervant.

Jul.

Sir, you want what I wiſh, ſome choice diſhes, which would perſwade you feed more freely.

Coſm.

Lucullus, were he here himſelf, could not repine at this repaſt: I am no Gurmundizer, nor26 yet am guilty of their ridiculous geſtures, who muſt have every bit ſawc'd with this word, Sir, I beſeech you eate; and riſe as hungry, but more fooles by far, then when they ſat down.

Jul.

You are in all reſpects your ſelf, Sir. But 'faith, ſince we're ſo opportunely met, let us not part ſo coolly. Though my owne wine be good, the miſchiefe is, I have no buſh hangs at my door, no li­nen aprons to ſqueak Anon, Sir: the name of Tavern, adds to our deſires. Me thinks abſurdities dance round about me, when I drink healths at home.

Coſ.

Sir, Bacchus will reward you for your cour­teſie entail'd unto his Prieſt. My ſervice waits upon you.

Two Gentlemen (acquaintance) meet in the ſtreets.

VALASCO, PEDRO.
Ped.

MY dear friend Valaſce, now in the name of good fellowſhip, what hath been the impe­diment that hath hindered you from viſiting me theſe many weeks? I hope you are not turn'd Stoick, nor in love with Cato's beard, or Dio­genes his Tub. Are the Table-books, Bowling-al­lies, and Taverns, now grown uſeleſs? Thou wert a Courtier, when there was a Court. I hope theſe dog-daies are not ſo dangerous, but we may ſport and quaff with Imitation, and deal for wholeſome fleſh, without being at the charges to disburſe to Panders and Porters, for a cloudy conveyance to our owne lodgings.

Vala.

Sir, You are mightily miſtaken, if you conceit I am one of Chryſippus Scholars (Ariſtip­pus I will allow to be my Maſter.) Theſe froward times cannot tranſmigrate an Anchorites ſoul into27 my breſt; no, I retaine my merry temper ſtill. I throw Size-ace, till I loſe to my ſhirt; bowle away Crownes as Counters; not give ore till my pockets look like the picture of famine, leane and empty; and I walk after the bowles with my hands behind me, to denounce who plaies faireſt, not daring to bet: there's a rub, you'll ſay. I am ſtill the ſame I was when you ſaw me laſt, in feature, geſture demean­our, and all other appurtenances; onely my will is not to you as formerly. I muſt tell you, Pedro, that you have forfeited the name of a friend: and by all my hopes, were it not that the thought of our former amity ſuppreſt thoſe flames of fury in my breſt, I now ſhould kill thee.

Ped.

Valaſco, I know you think I am ſo much a man, as not to fear your worſt of anger, were you Alcides ſecond, and graſp'd Joves thunder bolt; much leſs with ſupple hams, and ſuppliant hands, to creep to you, and beg your abſolution. Had I been guilty of that breach of friendſhip, which you un­kindly do ſuggeſt, I would maintaine and juſtifie my error, maugre your ſword or buckler. But how, Sir, have I wrong'd you?

Vala.

The Blade Don Bombo, two hours ſince I met, who told me, eight daies ago you and he ſupt together at your Miſtreſs Scorpiona's lodg­ing; where, in diſcourſe what truely-noble ſparks the Inns of Court now yeilded, he rankt me 'mongſt the reſt; but you with ſcornes and taunts, before your Miſtreſs, proclaim'd me nothing worth; a man of a dull ſenſe, onely a valiant voice; with many other moſt unfriendly terms, ſo baſe, I hate to name them.

Ped.

Now by the Gods, Valaſco, that Rogue Don Bombo hath abus'd us both: thee, by a falſe & ſlan­derous information; me But I'll not ſtand to talk;28 I'll make cutworks in the villaines skin, and ſlice his throat ſo wide, next time he drinks his morn­ings draught, he ſhall go near to ſpil his liquor; he ſhall confeſs before you, or elſe under his hand recant this lye, and eke record himſelf a branded Raſcal. Will that atone you, and renew our loves?

Val.

I have ever harboured noble thoughts of you, and ſhall eſteem your friendſhip ever preti­ous, worthy the acceptance of a Deity. Chaſtiſe this Raſcal till he cries peccavi; and, like to bro­ken bones, which, diſtocated by ſome unhappy ac­cident, ſet by a skilful hand, unite more firm then ever, our friendſhip ſhall take birth anew; we'll be another Pilades and Oreſtes.

Ped.

No more of this: my deeds ſhall ſpeak my real thoughts: let's to the Tavern, Bully, and there, o're full-crown'd cups, joyn our right hands. Ho, Coach-man! hurry us, in thy four-wheel'd pouch, to that Argolian Bachanalian Clifton, who keeps the golden Fleece ſecurely ſafe; yet hangs it as a ſigne, even at his door. His marble vault (a­lone) includes Nepenthe: the Coſick-grape is onely his. Away, away.

Two Merchants on the Exchange; Mr. Main Maſt, and Mr. Topſaile.

Main maſt.

MR. Topſaile, your beſt wiſhesnviron you; you ſee I keep my word.

Top.

Good faith I ſaw you not. All happineſs wait on you, ſweet Mr. Main Maſt; you are a ſtrict ob­ſerver of your time.

Mainmaſt.

I ever was ſo, Sir. Time's an old croſs-penny father, and muſt be waited on obſe­quiouſly,29 he fl es ye elſe. But what's the news from Neptune's Sea? how goes things in the great and watry world? are your ſhips rib'd with riches? is Aeolus propitious to your Vowes; his bag-cheek'd Boys not too robuſtious? Ha? I'm ſure I find a great decay of Trade. Tritons, attended by a crew of Sword-fiſhes, are turn'd moſt deſperate Pirates: no traffick, no commerce with forraigne Nations. Alas that ere I liv'd to ſee this day.

Top.

Had I had the ſage Vlyſſes power, for to ſeclude all windes from Seas ſave Zephyrus, my forraigne trade could not have been more proſpe­rous, then till within theſe few years: but now, 'tis true (with ſtorms on land) perpetual guſts at Sea ſhake all commerce to nothing; yet I bear up ſtill, and as my name, Top and Top-gallant like, I plow on Neptune, and returne ſafely home, with all my purchaſes. Ceſars motto's mine, man: next him, I ſure ſhall be recorded t' have been dame Fortunes onely favourite. Veni: with Engliſh wares I did arrive in Spaine. Vidi; I had a rich return. Vici: I came home with a merry wind. Tityre tu patule quae nunc non eſt narrandi locus.

Mainmaſt.

Learned Mr. Topſaile, the Gods o'the ſeas befriend you marvellouſly.

Top.

I'm much bound indeed to the old blue-beard, Neptunus; to his Sons the Trytons, his Daughters the Mermaids, and his couzens the Whales. But no more of this: many words will not fill a mans belly: ſhould we talk this two hours, there would be little uſe of a pick-tooth. My much-honour'd friend, Mr. Mainmaſt, ſhall I be ſo happifi'd this night, as to injoy your company at the carving out of a Shoulder of Mutton, cutting up of a paire of Coneys, and carbonadoing of a cold Capon?

Mainmaſt.

Sir, you ſhall command the exerciſe30 of my teeth, and the ſilence of my tongue. I'll wait on you, Sir.

Topſ.

O Sir, you teach me what to ſay: I am your humble ereature, and very happy in the ſoci­ety of ſo worthy a friend. Nay, Sir, let me alone for complements, if I ſet upon't. Come, good Mr. Mainmast.

The Wooer ſending his Miſtreſs a pair of white-frin'gd Gloves.

WHen on your whiter hands theſe Gloves you draw,
Remember Cupid, and his ſpotleſs law.
Mortals do wrong him much, with ſly pretence;
And when they love, they Doctors do commence
In Cunning's colledge, whenas love is free;
There is no craft in perfect amity.
Theſe are fring'd round: Phylacteries were good,
Till by the Phariſees dy'd deep in blood.
The colour which Narciſſus took, when he
Converted to a Daffadil, here ſee;
Which Hieroglyphically ſeems to tell,
In hating me, you love your ſelf too well.
How happy are theſe skins, that may at pleaſure
Kiſs your faire hands, and rifle all loves treaſure!
But theſe muſt be compell'd that thing to do,
For which I ſigh, and pray, and weep, and woo.
But know (bright faire one) when my taske is don,
You ſhall not need (like theſe) to draw me on.
31

Complemental LETTERS Fitted to all Humours and Inclinations; uſeful and delightful.

To the Intelligent Reader.

Cupid, here, hath taken wing
(Larke-like) to the heavens doth ſing.
Peneian Daphne here diſplaies
Her armes, and ſhrouds him with her bayes.
A vaſt pile of Sabean gums,
Smocking with fat Hecatoms,
Thou mayst behold, and cheare thy ſenſe
With choice Idalian frankincenſe.
Harmonious ecchoes do invite
Thee to attention and delight.
If Humours do not Judgement blind,
A Zoylus I'll not fear to find.
32

One of a law and humble birth, falling in love with ſome great Lady, thus preſents his ſervice.

Gratious Madam,

YOu are a Lady in whom conſiſts all that hea­ven hath rais'd to perfection. I am too poor to enjoy ſo great a Treaſure; and ſhall be e­ver, till I grow immortal; which alone reſts in your power to make me. 'Tis not your birth or fortune that I court, heavens witneſs with me: for had you been an humble ſhepherdeſs, and I a Monarch, this love had been, 'cauſe 'twas decreed by Fate. When I firſt ſaw you, methought my ſoul was forc'd to obey a Trance; and as a Viſion, my amazed ſight heheld you. The revolution of thoſe Star-like eies deſerves a new Aſtronomy, to contemplate it. I know I catch at a Star, and attempt to fathome Clouds; but it is not that thing call'd danger, that can affright me: Were you inclos'd with rocks of marble, whoſe lofty tops knew no diſtance betwixt the Skies and them, I would, with winged ſpeed, ſeale thoſe aſpiring Walls; and, in deſpite of all that durſt detaine you, bear you in my arms, beyond the reach of danger. You have been pleaſed, bright Anaxe­rete, to ſmile upon your poor Iphis; the radiant luſtre of your eyes hath exhal'd thoſe dull and fog­gy vapours, that clogg'd my ſoul with the contem­plation of my great unworthineſs: O continue thoſe ſoul-reviving beams, ſince without their com­fortable influence, I muſt freeze to Cryſtal, and periſh more miſerably then the wrath of Gods or33 Men (united) can poſſibly ſhowre upon the caytiff­head of any deſolate mortal.

Bright Goddeſs,
Your humble admirer, and ſworne Servant, &c.

An Amourist being forbidden by his Miſtreſs any more to Court, by Epiſtle or otherwiſe, declareth himſelf thus.

Dear Miſtreſs,

YOu have given me command not to love; which I confeſs I have ill obeyed: but you know, Miſtreſs, that forbidden things are ever moſt coveted by mortals; which is the reaſon that I have not had the power, ſince your forbidding meto think of any other thought, but of loving you, Miſtreſs, there is no kind of duty that I owe you not; there is no cruelty of chance or Fate, to which I ſhall not willingly expoſe my ſelf, to obey you〈◊〉but either ceaſe you to forbid me love, or otherwiſe forbid your Image to purſue me; ſince that fol­lows me everywhere, and leaves me not I berty or thought, but what it doth inſpire. You maas well forbid the water for to deſcend, and fire to mount on high, as command me to forbear to love you; which I muſt do, though in doing ſo, the fire of love parch me to cinders.

Cruel Miſtreſs,
Your conſtant lover, not to be ſhaken off by frowns or threats, &c.
34

The Lover having received an utter denyal of his profer'd ſervice, ſo that he is out of hope to accrue his de­ſired hapineſs, takes his leave of his Lady thus morn­fully.

(Faire, faire one)

CAn law or torture fright his ſoul, who is eve­ry houre extended on the wrack? No: ſince you deſpiſe me, 'twill add unto my future happineſs, when love ſhall know I'm one that di'd your martyr. And for my body, when intomb'd in earth, a Cypreſs-tree ſhall ſpring up from my grave, under whoſe ſhade ſuch mournful lovers as are puniſht with diſdaine, ſhall come and pay ſad tribute of their teares; which by that charitable ayr which doth convert the falling dew into a froſt, ſhall be congeal'd, and raiſe to my ſad me­mory a laſting monument of tranſparent chryſtal.

So dies your diſtreſſed Martyr, R. H.

The Lover being to paſs beyond the ſeas, or otherwiſe to abſent himſelf a while from his Miſtreſs, takes leave of her, thus.

My dear,

SO leave the winter'd people of the North, the minutes of their ſummer, when the Sun de­parting leaves them in cold walls of Ice, as I leave thee (my onely happineſs on earth) commanded from thy preſence by an irreſiſtible Fate. But though we are ſever'd for a time, a ſpan o35time, 'twill increaſe our joyes, when next wee meet; when we ſhall joyne againe in a confirmed unity for ever: ſuch will our next imbraces be (my dea­reſt) when the remembrance of former dangers (our parents angry frowns upon our loves) will faſten love in perpetuity, will force our ſleeps to ſteal upon our ſtories. Theſe daies muſt come, and ſhall, without a cloud or night of fear, or en­vy: till when, keep warm my ſoul within thy bo­ſome.

Thy devoted ſervant, T. B.

The Amouriſt having failed to meet his Miſtreſs at a place appointed, thus excuſeth himſelf.

Mistreſs,

I Attended in much fear, and with more patience, the ſpace of three hours, this morning, in my chamber, expecting every minute ſome ominous embaſſy from you, to ſcourge me into a juſt pe­nance, for neglect (as you may ſuppoſe) offered un­to you yeſterday, in not waiting on you according to my promiſe: but anxieties (to my great con­tent) proving abortive, I have aſſumed the confidence to apologize thus for my contempt. My hearts joy, I know you think that your ſelf is the Loadſtone that attracts my ſoul (though I confeſs I have hitherto found your heart like a peble, (mooth, but ſtony) and that when I am reſtrained from your ſight, like a melancholy vegetive, in the abſence of the Sun, I hang down my drooping head. Think not that I deſire to withdraw from ſo worthy a ſervi•…36as I eſteem yours; under whom I chuſe rather to ſuffer extream tyranny, then elſewhere to live be­neath the perfecteſt Empire. But ſo it hapned, that at the very hour when I was preparing to come and wait on you, a Meſſenger bathed in ſweat, came to certifie me, that my Unkle (of whom I have receiv­ed a large Legacy) lay even at the point of death, earneſtly wiſhing to behold me ere his departure to the inviſible land: the performance of whoſe de­ſire, was the onely occaſion that impedited my at­tendence on you. I humbly intreat you (Miſtreſs) to accept of this true narration, as a ſufficient ex­cuſe: which ſhall continue you in my opinion,

The glory of my thoughts, ſoveraigne Good of my life, and extream felicity of my ſoul, R. T.

The Lover having found his Miſtreſs baſely inconſtant, takes his laſt farewell of her thus.

Loſt Love,

SInce I muſt write to one that hath ſcorned to an­ſwer my Epiſtles any time this month, take it not in favour of you; it is not to you, but to this pa­per that I tell my thoughts; ſo to disburden my ſelf of them, as that I may never more have them in minde, except to deteſt their cauſer. You have not deceived me: for I long ſince foreſaw the in­ſtability of your minde. If yet you did tell me the cauſe of this your infidelity, if not able to finde a juſt occaſion, you took the pane but to ſearch a pretence that were coloured with ſalfe appearance, I would herein excuſe you againſt my37 ſelf. This then is my comfort, that you have no o­ther reaſon for your change, then your owne in­conſtancy: and though I have not ties enough to ſtay you, yet have I reſolution enough to let you go; and have as much patience in your loſs, as Iad contentment in your poſſeſſion. Adien for ever. And becauſe you ſhall be certainly aſſured, that I now as perfectly hate you, as heretofore I dotingly affected you (to perpetuate your memory) I will fix this Epitaph upon your Tombe.

Epitaph.
Here remains a piece, that Shame
Does forbid to owne, or name:
She was once as this a ſtone,
Till converſion made her none:
Then, her beauty ſtain'd her ſoul;
Being fair, ſhe was moſt foul:
Lov'd, yet hated all; 'tis croſs'd;
Whom ſhe lov'd, ſhe hated moſt.
She was skill'd in Language too;
Every Nation did her woo.
She could French interpret well,
Till ſhe faſhion'd how to ſpell
Through the Noſe. If any paſs
On this tender yeilding graſs,
To view this piece, do not weep;
'Tis a paſſion they may keep.
Onely Clarity bids us ſay,
She is happy now ſhe's clay.
38

The Lover being prohibited the ſight of his Miſtreſs, ei­ther by the ſtrictest oppoſition of her Parents, or the perſwaſive counſel of her guardian, ſends her this Letter.

Dearest Love,

THere is no longer means of living abſent from my life: ſince you are not with me, I am no more my ſelf. I may be forbidden the ſeeing of you, but never the loving of you: or if they will for bid, yet they can never hinder me. Such as owe me moſt good will, do teſtifie the leaſt unto me, and that by reaſon of my affection: but I chuſe rather to be little obedient to them, to be the more faithful to you. Live you then in this aſſurance, if you will not that I die; and become aſſured likewiſe, that my life ſhall ſooner be extinct, then that fair flame that dayly does conſume it.

Divine Miſtreſs,
your humble creature, happy to ſerve you, A. S.

A Maid, or Widow, having afforded her Suiter a final anſwer (perhaps) contemned and affronted him, may upon change of thoughts, ſeek toregain his love, thus.

(Worthy Sir)

IF there be no greater Cor'ſive unto the mind of one, then that which forceth us (deſpight of our ſelves) to ſeek to thoſe whom we have before (and39 that without juſt cauſe) notoriouſly offended, then certainly am I the moſt wretched creature living: for (as now) there is no means left for me to eſcape from ruine, but onely by thy help (ſweet friend) alone, who haſt more reaſon to wiſh my overthrow, then my good fortune or health any way at all, in that thou haſt found ſuch extream and barbarous diſcourtefie in me. Nevertheleſs, if thygenerous and gentle mind, cannot feel this injury (done unto thee by a ſilly Maid) then I beſeech thee, think no more upon my offence; but burying it deep, under thy feet, do that for my ſake, which the bearer hereof ſhall make thee privy to: and then ſhalt thou quickly perceive, what great ſatisfaction I will make thee, for my fault committed; granting unto thee that which thou ſhalt moſt deſire. Give credit unto this Meſſenger; aſſuring thy ſelf that I am

Thine moſt obliged M. L.

A Captain, Colonel, or common Souldier, falling in love with ſome gentlewoman, thus manifeſts his paſſions.

(Fair gentlewoman)

IF it be an irrevocable doom, that men, be they never ſo valiant or couragious, ſhall be ſub­ject unto a braver and more livelier force then their owne; I hope you will not marvel over­much, that I humbly yeild to your divine graces; and, as a captive your to beauty, proſtrate my ſelf a priſoner at your feet. But as40 mortal men deſerve no countenance from the hea­vens, until they have by many proofs teſtified their faithful and dutious ſervice towards them; ſo, I will not preſume to importune you to affect me at all, much leſs to yeild me any guerdon for my paines, until that by my dutious ſervice I ſhow my ſelf (in ſome part) worthy your gratious ſmiles. Mine onely requeſt to you is, that it would pleaſe you to have me in your lively remembrance; and not to entertaine another, as your loyal Servant, before you ſhall have juſt occaſion to diſcard and give me over: for as (no doubt) it will be little pleaſing unto you (hereafter) to repent you, that you have made a worſe choice then of my ſelf; ſo it will be far more bitter unto me, then a moſt deſ­perate death, to be diſcharged from ſerving her, whom I love more then my owne heart, and che­riſh more then my owne life, yea then my owne ſoul, which is (now) wholly yours, ſeeing that he that is the owner of the ſame, is the inviolable ſlave to your incomparable ſelf.

A. R.
41

LETTERS in Verſe: With other curious Conceits, and fine Fancies.

To the Reader.

Behold, Apollo doth invite thee,
Yet a third time to delight thee:
A pleaſant Tempe, planted well
With Flowers of odoriferous ſmell;
In the midſt whereof do chill
Aganippe waters drill.
The Muſes, whoſe ſweet melody
Drawes Jove down from the arched Sky,
Charm Pluto's ſelf, and all the Fiends;
To heaven climbes, to hell deſcends:
Hand in hand, now in a Ring,
Invite thee, for to hear them ſing.
Enter, and take thy free delight:
And 'cauſe (perhaps) thy Appetite
Cannot with one diſh ſated be
I give thee, here, Varietie.
42

The Lover being forced from his Miſtreſs preſence.

(Miſtreſs)
BAniſht from you, I charg'd the nimble wind,
My unſeen meſſenger, to ſpeak my mind
In am'rous whiſpers to you; but my Muſe,
Leſt the unruly ſpirit ſhould abuſe
The truſt repos'd in him, ſaid it was due
To her alone, to ſing my love to you.
Hear her then ſpeak, bright Lady, from whoſe eye
Shot lightning to his heart; who joys to dye
A Martyr in your flames: O let your love
Be great, and firm as his! then nought ſhall move
Your ſetled faiths, that both may grow together,
Or (if by Fate divided) both may wither.
Be conſtant, as y'are faire: for I foreſee
A glorious Triumph waits o'th' victorie
Your love will purchaſe; ſhewing us to prize
A true content; there onely love hath eyes.
Divine Lady,
yours more then his owne, &c.

The Lover being anxious of his Miſtreſs conſtancy.

Faire,
SWeet, if you like and love me ſtill,
And yeild me love for my good will,
And do not from your promiſe ſtart,
When your fair hand gave me your heart;
43
If dear to you I be,
As you are dear to me:
Then your I am, and will be ever;
Nor time, nor place, my love ſhall ſever,
But faithful ſtill, I will perſever,
Like the conſtant marble-ſtone,
Loving but you alone.
But if you favour more then me
(Who loves thee ſtill, and none but thee)
If others do the harveſt gaine,
That's due to me for all my paine,
If that you love to range,
And often for to change:
Then get you ſome new-fangled mate;
My doating love ſhall turne to hate;
Eſteeming you (though too too late)
Not worth a pebble-ſtone,
Loving not me alone.

The Lover being tranſported in his fancy, complements in an high ſtile with his Miſtreſs.

FOrſake with me the earth, my fair,
And travel nimbly through the aire,
Till we have reacht th' admiring skies,
Then lend ſight to thoſe heav'nly eyes
Which blind themſelves, make creatures ſee;
And taking view of all. When we
Shall find a pure and glorious ſphere,
We'll fix like ſtars for ever there:
Nor will we ſtill each other view;
We'll gaze on leſſer ſtars; then you
44
See how by their weak influence they
The ſtrongeſt of mens actions ſway,
In an inferiour orbe below:
We'll ſee Calipſo looſely throw
Her hair abroad, as ſhe did weare
The ſelf-ſame beauty in a Beare,
As when ſhe a cold Virgin ſtood,
And yet inflam'd Joves luſtful blood.
Then look on Leda, whoſe faire beams
By their reflection gild thoſe ſtreams,
Where firſt (unhappy ſhe) began
To play the wanton with a Swan.
If each of theſe looſe beauties are
Transform'd to a more beautious ſtar
By the adulterous luſt of Jove;
Why ſhould not we, by purer love?
Life of my life,
a devoted ſervant to your excellent perfections, &c.
Deareſt,
Let one griefe harme us,
Let one joy fill us,
Let one love warme us,
Let one death kill us.

A Maid, or widow, returnes this merry anſwer to her hot Lover whom ſhe affect not.

I See thee (gentle Franke) moſt merry,
Though firm thy faith, and ſound as berry:
Love gave me joy, and fortune gave it
As my deſire could wiſh to have it.
45
What didſt thou wiſh? tell me (ſweet lover)
Whereby thou mightſt ſuch joy recover,
To love where love ſhould be inſpired,
Since there's no more to be deſired.
In this great glory, and great gladneſs,
Thinkſt thou to have no touch of ſadneſs?
Good fortune gave me not ſuch glory
To mock my love, or make me ſory.
If my firm love I were denying,
Tell me, with ſighs wouldſt thou bedying?
Thoſe words in jeſt to hear thee ſpeaking,
For very griefe, my heart is breaking.
Yet wouldſt thou change (I pray thee tell me)
In ſeeing one that doth excell me?
O no; for how canſt thou aſpire
To more then to thy owne deſire?
Such great affection thou doſt bear me,
As, by thy words, thou ſeemſt to ſwear me:
Of thy deſert, to which a Debter
I am, thou maiſt demand this better.
Sometimes (me thinks) that I ſhould ſwear it,
Sometimes me thinks thou ſhouldſt not hear it:
Onely in this, the pip doth greive me,
And thy deſire not to believe me.
Sir,
yours very dubiouſly affectionated, not to be cammanded, or waited on, by you, &c.

The Lover being diſcontented at the abſence of his Mi­ſtreſs, he being in the City, ſhe in the Countrcy.

Deareſt,
THe leſſer people of the aire conſpire
to kep thee from mee: Philomel with higher
46
And ſweeter notes, wooes thee to weep her rape;
Which would appeaſe the gods, & change her ſhape:
The early Larke, preferring, for ſoft reſt,
Obſequious duty, leaves his downy neſt,
And doth to thee harmonious duty pay,
expecting from thy eyes the break of day;
From which the Owle is frighted, and doth rove
(As never having felt the warmth of love)
In uncouth vaults, and the chill ſhades of night,
Not 'biding the great luſtre of thy ſight.
With him, my Fate agrees; not viewing thee,
I'm loſt in miſts; at beſt, but Meteors ſee.
Soul of ſweetneſs,
thy humble creature, &c.

The Lover angry at his Miſtreſs unſufferable contempt, may (if he will) thus vent himſelf, in an invective manner

(Scornful Tit)
SInce juſt diſdaine began to riſe,
And cry revenge, for ſpiteful wrong;
What once I prais'd, I now deſpiſe,
And think my love was all too long.
I tread to durt that ſcornful pride,
Which in thy looks I have deſcride.
Thy beauty is a painted skin,
For fooles to ſee their faces in.
Thy eyes, that ſome as ſtars eſteeme,
From whence themſelves (they ſay) take light,
47
Like to the fooliſh fire I deeme,
That leads men to their death by night.
Thy Words and Oaths, are light as wind,
And yet far lighter is thy mind.
Thy friendſhip is a broken reed,
And thou a gigling maukes indeed.
My owne, and can command my ſelf, H. D

The Lover betwixt hope and deſpaire to attaine his Miſtreſs love, ſhe telling him ſhe hath vowed never to marry.

Deareſt miſtreſs,
EVen as my hand my pen to paper laies,
My trembling hand my pen from paper ſtaies;
Leſt that thine eys, which ſhining, made me love you,
Should, frowning on my ſuit, bid ceaſe to love you:
So that my nurfing murth'ring pen affords
A grave, a cradle, to my new-born words.
But whilſt like clouds tofs'd up and down by aire
I wracked hang, 'twixt hope and ſad deſpaire;
Diſpaire is beaten, vanquiſht from the feild,
And unto conqu'ring hope my heart doth yeild.
If of my eyes you alſo could bereave me,
As you already of my heart deceive me;
Or could ſhut up my raviſht ears through which
You likewiſe did my inchanted heart bewitch;
To root out love all means you can invent,
Were all but labour loſt, and time ill ſpent:
48
For as theſe ſparks, being ſpent, which fire procure,
The fire doth brightly burning ſtill indure;
Though abſent, ſo, your ſparkling eyes remove,
My heart ſtill burnes in endleſs flames of love.
Then ſtrive not gainſt the ſtream to no effect,
But let due love yeild love a due reſpect;
Nor ſeek to ruine what your ſelf begun,
Or looſe a knot that cannot be undon.
Why were you fair, to be ſought of ſo many,
If you live chaſte, not to be lov'd by any?
For if that Nature love to Beauty offers,
And Beauty ſhun the love that Nature proffers;
Then either unjuſt Beauty is to blame,
With ſcorne to quench a lawful kindled flame;
Or elſe, unlawfully if love we muſt,
And be unlov'd, then Nature is unjuſt.
A marble heart, under an amorous look,
Is of a flattering bait the murth'ring hook;
For from a Ladies ſhining frowning eyes,
Death's ſable dart, with Cupids arrow flies.
Since then from chaſtity and beauty ſpring
Such various ſtreams, where each a bide as kin;
Let Tyrant Chaſtitie's uſurped throne
Be made the ſeat of beauties grace alone;
And let your beauty be with this ſuffis'd
That my heart's City is by it ſurpriz'd
Raze not my heart, nor to your beauty raiſe
Blood-gilded Trophies of your beauties praiſe.
For wiſeſt Conquerours do Towns deſire,
On honourable tearmes, and not with fire.
Cruel faire one,
thy bleeding ſervant, T. P.
49

The Lover having word brought him of his Mistreſs de­parture.

Deareſt,
I Am engag'd to ſortow, and my heart
Feels a diſtracted rage. Though you depart,
And leave me to my feares, let love, in ſpight
Of abſence, our divided ſouls unite.
But you muſt go: the me lancholy Doves
Draw Venus chariot hence: the ſportive loves
That wont to wanton here, hence with you flie,
And, like falſe friends, forſake me when I die.
For, but a walking Tombe, what can he bee,
Whoſe beſt of life is ſorc'd to part with thee?
Bright Goddeſs
your humble admirer.

The Lover abſent from his Miſtreſs beyond the Seas, ſollicites her thus.

My deareſt Miſtreſs,
STar of my life, if theſe ſad lines do hap
The raging fury of the Sea to ſcape,
O let your hand then be their bleſſed Port,
From whence they may unto your cies reſort.
Fountain of bliſs, yet well-ſpring of my wo;
O would I might not juſtly tearm you ſo!
My deareſt dear, behold the portraicture
Of him that doth all kind of woes indure;
50
Of him whoſe head is made a hive of woes,
Whoſe ſwarming number dayly greater grows;
Of him, whoſe ſenſes like a rack are bent
With divers motions, my poor heart to rent;
Whoſe mind a mirrour is, which onely ſhows
The ugly image of my preſent woes;
Whoſe memory's a poyſon'd knife to teare
The ever-bleeding wound my breſt doth bear:
And that poor heart, ſo faithful, conſtant, true,
That onely loves, and ſerves, and honours you,
Is like a feeble Ship, which, toine and rent,
The maſt of hope being broke, and tackling ſpent;
Reaſon the Pilot dead, the ſtars obſcured,
By which alone, to ſail it was inured;
No Port, No Land, no comfort once expected,
All hope of ſafety utterly neglected;
With dreadful terror tumbling up and down;
Viſions uncertain, waves to mountaines grown.
I muſt confeſs, that when I do conſider
How ill, alas, how ill agree together,
So peerleſs beauty, and ſo fierce a minde,
So hard an inſide, and ſo ſoft a rinde;
A heart ſo bloody, and ſo white a breſt;
Such proud diſdain, with ſo mild looks ſuppreſt;
And how my dear (O would it had been never
Accurſed word! O would it had been ever)
How once, I ſay, till your heart ſeem'd eſtranged
(Alas) how ſoon my day to night was changed!
You did vouchſafe my poor eyes ſo to grace,
Freely to view the riches of your face;
And (which was greateſt bliſs) did not dildaine,
For boundleſs love, to yeild ſome love again.
Deſpair it ſelf cannot make me deſpaire
But that you'll prove as kind as you are faire;
And now at length, in lien of paſſed wo,
Will pity, grace, and love, and favour ſhow.
51
O ſpare, O ſpare my yeilding heart, and ſave
Him whoſe chiefe glory is to be your ſlave:
Make me the object of your clemency,
And not the ſubject of your tyranny.
So ſhall you reſtore a dying Lover to perfect health, fulfil the Decree of the Gods, and make him tranſcendently happy, who at preſent languiſheth in a dying deſpaire, ready to bee offered up on the altar of your beauty. R. H.

The Lover aſſuring his Mistreſs that her doubts are vain, and he is unmoveably conſtant.

WHy doſt thou (my dear miſtreſs) doubt my love
Which beauty bred, and vertue ſtill doth nou­riſh
That any other object can remove,
Or faint with time, but ſtill more freſhly flouriſh?
No; know, thy beauty is of ſuch a force,
The fancy cannot flit, that's with it taken;
Thy vertue ſuch, my heart doth hate divorce
From thy ſweet love, which ne'er ſhall be forſaken.
So ſetled is my ſoul, in this reſolve,
That firſt the radiant ſtars from heaven ſhall fall;
The heavens ſhall loſe their influence, and diſſolve;
To the firſt Chaos ſhall be turn'd this all,
Ere I from thee (dear miſtreſs) do remove
My true, my conſtant, and my ſincere love.
Thine while his owne, A D.
52

The Lover hearing of his Miſtreſs departure, bewailes thus.

Dear heart,
WHat's death, more then departure? the dead go
Like travelling exiles, are compell'd to know
Thoſe regions they heard mention'd oft; 'tis th'art
Of ſorrow, to ſay, who dies doth depart.
Then weep thy funeral-tears, which heaven, t' a­dorn
The beauteous treſſes of the weeping morn,
Will rob me of; and thus my Tombe ſhall be
As naked, as it had no obſequie.
Know, in theſe lines ſad muſick to thy ear,
(My ſad dear Miſtreſs) you the ſermon hear
Which I preach ore my herſe and death: I tell
My owne live's ſtory, ring but my owne knell.
But when I ſhall return, know, 'tis thy breath,
In ſighs divided, reſcues me from death.
Thy lamenting faithful Servant, E. D.

Five Lyrick Pieces.

To my noble friend, Mr. Theodor Loe.
GO, pale-fac'd paper, to my dear,
And whiſper this into her ear:
Though I abſent am, yet ſhe
Keeping thee, embraces me.
53
Let no rude hand dare to touch thee;
Care not, though a thouſand grutch thee
Of that bliſs, which, in her hive,
Thou enjoyſt, till I arrive:
And be ſure, thou doſt not flie
From the glances of her eye:
Where ſhe goes, be thou about her;
Gad not thou abroad without her.
Let not any dare to ſee
What's between