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Cupids Cabinet Unlock't, OR, THE NEW ACCADEMY OF COMPLEMENTS, Odes, Epigrams, Songs, and Son­nets, Poeſies, Preſentations, Congratulations, Ejaculations, Rhapſodies, &c.

With other various fancies.

Created partly for the delight, but chiefly for the uſe of all Ladies, Gentlemen, and Strangers, who affect to ſpeak Elegantly, or write Queintly

By W. Shakeſpeare.


A SONNET. Inviting to ſome pleaſant walk.

COme away bleſt Soules, no more
Feed your eyes with what is poor,
'Tis enough that you have bleſt
What was rude, what was undreſt,
And created with your eyes
Out of Chaos Paradiſe.
Theſe Trees, no golden Apples give,
Here's no Adam, here's no Eve,
Not a Serpent dares appear
While you pleaſe to tarry here.
Oh! then ſit, and take your due,
Thoſe the firſt fruits are that grew
In this Eden, and are thrown
On this Altar as your own.


A Wonderfull ſcarcity will ſhortly enſue
Of Butchers, of Bakers, and all ſuch as brue.
Of Tanners, of Taylors, of Smiths, and the reſt
Of all occupations, that can be expreſs'd,
In the year of our Lord, ſeven hundred and ten
I think, for all theſe will be Gentlemen.

A CHARM, To expell Melancholy.

HEnce loathed Melancholly
Of Cerberus, and blackeſt midnight born
'Mongſt horrid ſhapes, and ſhriecks, and ſights unholy,
In the Stygian Cave forlorn
Finde out ſome uncouth cell,
Where the night Raven ſings
And brooding darkneſſe ſpreads his jealous wings
There, (raggd as thy locks)
Under thoſe Ebon ſhades, and low brow'd Rocks
In dark Cimmerian ſhades for ever dwell.

The Souldiers Song.

COme let the ſtate ſtay,
and drink away,
There is no buſineſſe above it,
It warms the cold brain,
Makes us ſpeak in high ſtrain,
Hee's a fool that does not approve it.
The Macedon youth
Left behinde this truth,
That nothing is done, with much thinking:
He drunk, and he fought
Till he had what he ſought;
The world was his own by good drinking.


CAriola hath a ſpot upon her face,
Mixt with ſweet beauty, adding to her grace,
By what ſweet influence, it was begot
I know not, but it is a ſpotleſſe ſpot.

De eadem.

As with freſh meat, mixture of Salt is meet,
And Vinegar doth reliſh well the ſweet,
So in fair faces moulds ſometime ariſe,
Which ſerve to ſtay the ſurfet of our eyes.

A Song.

O'Re the ſmooth enamel'd green,
Where no print of ſtep hath been,
Follow me as I ſing,
And touch the warbled ſtring.
Under the ſhady roof
Of branching Elm, ſtarre-proof,
Follow me
Ile bring you where*
*A feigned name given by the Au­thor to his Mistreſſe.
* Clariſſa ſits
Clad in ſplendor as befits
Her Diety.
Such a Rural Queen
All Arcadia hath not ſeen.


WIſe is that fool, that hath his Coffers full,
And riches free'd, adorn the verieſt gull,
〈2 pages missing〉
He hath, he hath the red ſinn ', and the yellow.

Five LYRICK PIECES, Dedicated, by the Author, to the truely fair, and noble Miſtreſſe, E. C.

I Can no longer (ſweet) forbear
Since, now, your cation is my fear,
And the wrinkles, on your brow
(More white then Pelops ſhoulder) plow
Large furrows, on my panting heart;
Cupids ſledge, not Cupids Dart
Hath bruiz'd, not pierc'd it; why ſhould I
Alone, in ſilence pine, and dy?
And not as others, finde a vent?
Winds earth-quakes cauſe, when they are pent
In hollow Grots, but gently ſail
With a ſmooth, and eaſie gale,
When their Patents ſign'd to blow,
When, and where they liſt to go.
Shall I impeach my ſelf, and ſay,
I have deſerv'd this dire delay,
And that your frowns I merit more
Then all your favours heretofore.
Shall I divulge the truth, and tell
I am (in Love) an infidel?
Nature in giving form to thee,
Exhauſted all her treaſury,
He then that doth not idolize
Her Maſter piece, and ſacrifice
Devoutly to it, needs muſt be
A wretch, prophane, and I am he.
My error's found, and now command
My pennance, what comes from your hand,
I ſhall with a religious awe,
Accept, and make your will my Law.
Pronounce it Ladie, let your threat
Be, as my quondam crime was, great.
Now purg'd by bleſs'd, and holy fire
Let me, triumphant, ſtrike my Lyre,
And ſing her praiſes, who doth deigne
To be my Goddeſſe once again,
And let my piercing numbers move,
As Orpheus er'ſt, the ſhady grove
Of Oſſa, and allure each ſtone,
As once the Harp of Amphion,
Like him of Sulmo, let me ſing
And gently ſtrike Catullus ſtring,
Or give me Flaccus heavenly note,
That I may like ſome Cherub vote,
Heark Goddeſſe, thus doth Clio ſing
Ecchoed from Parnaſſus ſpring.
What th'antick Bards fabled of old,
In thee a real truth will hold,
Hyperion ſhines, more often then
He would, upon the race of men,
To gaze on thy bright beauty; thee
He hath deſign'd his Lawrell Tree,
And Iove with horn's would crown his ſcull
Once more, ſave that thou hat'ſt a Bul:
Bacchus hath often fed thy taſte
As (ſhe, ſo many ages paſt)
Fair hair'd Erigone, and ſwears
Thou art the ſweeteſt of thy years,
Saturnus ſiſter, Pallas, ſhe
That took conception of the Sea,
Striving for Ates gift, had loſt
That which, Dardania, dearly coſt,
Hadſt thou thy ſelf to Paris ſhown,
The Apple [ſure,] had been thy own
Divineſt beauty, fairer faire
Then ſhe Thyoneus made a ſtarre.
Men ſay three Graces, but thy worth
Doth canonize thee for a fourth;
So ſweet thy look, ſo grave thy gate
Such luſter (ne're, yet pointed at
By Petrarchs pen) doth richly flow,
Onely an Angels pen can ſhow
Its perfect eſſence, how can I
Give thy excentrick entity.
Come then (my deareſt, let's combine)
As the ſtrong Oake, and creeping Vine,
And mix in an alternate warre,
[A happy ill, a peacefull jarre]
While we in bickering do conſent
Our skirmige ſhall be incruent,
And when w'are marry'd, wee'l compare
Our mouths, and thence fetch freſher aire.
Throw by thy veſtments then, and ſhow
My eyes, a walking hill of ſnow.
Oh, how my raviſh'd ſenſe doth glory
To ſleep on ſuch a promontory,
Now while our pleaſant toyl we ply,
Heark, how the ſphears in harmony
Do meet, Neptune forgets to roare,
The Syrens ſport upon the ſhore.
Nature her ſelf doth ſmile, and all
Creatures (ſave thoſe irrational)
In imitation of our loves
Practiſe the Complement of Doves
This pleaſant juncture (from on hie)
Another age doth typifie,
Which ſhall be truely ſtil'd of Gold,
When Love ſhall not be bought, or ſold.

A Letter.

Dearest Lady,
SInce 'tis my fate to be thy ſlave,
Render ſuch pity thou would'ſt crave,
If 'twere thy fortune ſo to be
To him, that Courts his deſtiny,
My moans ſufficient were to melt
A flinty heart, who Love ne're felt,
Yet all thoſe tears do prove in vain,
To quench my ſcorching Love-ſick pain,
'Twas thoſe Magnetick eyes that drew
My heart from me at the firſt view,
If then to Love, thou were't the wombe
That gave it life, be not the Tombe.
If thou bee'ſt pleas'd, exile delay
Dangers attend a tedious way,
Few are the words, that may combine
Our hearts, 'tis onely ſay, th'art mine,
But if another hath poſſeſt
Thoſe joyes, that ſhould have made me bleſt,
Be ſpeedy in thy doom, and I
By death am freed from miſery.
Yours, and not his own K. D.

SONG In parts.

DIdſt thou not once, Lucinda, vow,
For to love none but me.
I, But my Mother tells me now,
I muſt love wealth, not thee.
'Tis not my fault, my flocks are lean,
Or that they are ſo few.
Nor mine, I cannot love ſo mean,
So poor a thing as you.
But I muſt love thee, now believe,
I'le ſeale it with a kiſſe.
Ile give thee no more cauſe to grieve,
Than what thou find'ſt in this.
Then witneſſe all you powers above,
And by theſe holy bands.
Let it appear, the trueſt Love
Comes not through wealth, or Lands.

The ſearch. AN ODE.

ECho, ſweeteſt Nymph, that liv'ſt unſeen,
Within thy airie cell,
By ſlow Meanders margent green,
And in the violet imbroider'd vale,
Where the Love-lorn Nightingale,
Nightly to thee her raviſhment doth tell.
Canſt thou not tell me of a gentle paire
That likeſt thy Narciſſus are,
Oh, if thou have
Hid them in ſome flowry cave,
Tell me but where,
Sweet Queen of parly, daughter of the ſphear.
So may'ſt thou be tranſlated to the skies,
And give reſound to heavenly harmonies.


ULyſſes, having ſcap'd the Ocean ſtood,
Twice ten years pilgrimage in forraigne Lands,
And the ſweet ſongs of Syrens, tun'd to blood,
And Cyclops jaws, and Circes charming hands
Comes home, and, ſeeming ſafe, as he miſtakes
He ſteps awry, and falls into a Iakes.


POx take you Miſtreſſe, Ile be gone,
I have a friend to wait upon,
Think you Ile my ſelf confine
To your humours, Lady mine,
No your lowring ſeems to ſay,
'Tis a rayny drinking day:
To the Tavern lie away.
There have I a Miſtreſſe got
Cloyſter'd in a pottle pot
Brisk, and ſprightly, as your eyes,
When thoſe richer glances flies,
Plump, and; bounding lovely fair,
Buckſome, lively, debonaire,
And ſhee's called, ſack my dear.
Sack's my better Miſtreſſe farre,
Sack's my onely beauties ſtarre.
She with no diſdain will blaſt me,
Yet upon the bed ſhee'l caſt me,
And the truth of her to ſay,
Spirits in me ſhee'l convey,
More then thou canſt take away.
Yet, if thou wil't take the pain
To be good, but once again,
Do but ſmile, and call me back,
And thou ſhalt be that Lady, Sack,
Faith, but trie, and thou ſhalt ſee
What a loving Soul I'le be,
While I'me drunk, with nought but thee.


NOw the bright morning ſtarre, dayes harbinger,
Comes dauncing from the Eaſt, and leads with her
The flowry May, who from her green lap throwes
The yellow Cowſlip, and the pale Primroſe.
Hail bounteous May, that doſt inſpire
Mirth, and youth, and warm deſire,
Woods, and Groves, are of thy dreſſing,
Hill, and Dale, doth boaſt thy bleſſing.
Thus we ſalute thee, with our early ſong,
And ſinging welcome thee, and wiſh thee long.

A Letter.

SWeeteſt, thy name to me doth promiſe much,
Oh, that thy nature alſo were but ſuch
But whence (alas) the difference doth grow,
Is hid from me, nor can I come to know
Unto thy excellent, and ſoveraigne beauty
I'me bound, in all the bonds of love, and duty,
I that till now, could never learne to know,
Whether that Love were ſeated high, or low.
I, that as yet, did never know loves law,
Nor ere was loving longer then I ſaw,
I that have never known (what now is common)
Or to throw handſome ſheeps eyes at a woman,
I that as yet, have never broke my ſleep,
Nor ever did ſurmiſe, what charmes did keep
Lovers eyes open, now too well can tell
Thoſe things, that (ſure) would pleaſe a Lover well.
Shall I relate it to thee? yes I will,
And being told, do thou, or ſave, or kill,
It would be his chief glorie, if he might
Be ever reſident in's Miſtriſſe ſight,
'Twould pleaſe him greatly (ſure) to have the hap
For to repoſe himſelf, in's Miſtreſſe lap,
Or elſe to have his Miſtreſſe, (kinde, and faire)
With her white hand, to ſtroke his Amber hair,
Or elſe to play at foot-ſt, a while with him,
Or elſe to play at Barly-break, to breath him,
Or with him for to walk, a turn, or two,
Or elſe him for to kiſſe, to call, or woe,
Or entring into ſome retired Grove,
Beneath ſome pleaſāt ſhade, to talk of love,
Or when hee's ſure, there are no jealous ſpies
To clip her, and look Babies in her eyes,
Or when that action doth begin to fail
For to ſupply it, with a pleaſing tale;
How Venus was, unto lame Vulcan wed,
And yet how Mars, got into Vulcans bed.
And while that he, and ſhe, did make but one,
Poor Vulcan, was conſtrain'd to lie alone,
Or if this cannot joy enough afford,
It will be well, for to obſerve each bird,
How choicely ſhe doth ſingle out her mate,
And unto none, but him her ſelf doth take,
To mark their ſportive billing, each with other,
Their Love, and dalliance pronounc'd tother,
Or if this chance for to yield no content,
Then to reſort, unto each pleaſant plant,
Which, by the Artiſt grafted skilfully,
Doth bring forth fruit, the more abundantly,
But to conclude, 't would pleaſe him beſt (with me)
Himſelf, and Miſtreſſe, in one bed to ſee.
the humblest, and faithfulleſt of your ſervants R. H.

PRESENTATIONS Of Gifts, Or Love tokens.

The preſentation of a pair of Gloves.

HOw happy are theſe skin's, that licence have
To kiſſe thoſe hands, and fold thoſe fingers brave,
Which to ſalute, even love himſelf deſires,
Longing with ſuch warm ſnow, to coole his fires,
Theſe are too trivial ornaments, to ſhrowd
Thoſe hands, ore which a bright refulgent cloud
Thrown, from the clear reflection of your eyes,
(The which the Sun, and Moon, do equallize)
Ever adorns, and obvious to the view
To Iuno's anger, and Minerva's too.
Vouchſafe (dear Saint) what time you draw on theſe,
To think upon the dire perplexities
Your votary endures, and now at laſt
As theſe do clip your hands, let him your waſte.

The preſentation of a paire of Knives.

THeſe (deareſt Miſtreſſe) like your beauty are,
Th'are bright, and ſharp, and cut moſt ſingular.
As doth your beauty, ſo they'l clearly ſhave
Any poor heart, that's deſtin'd for your ſlave,
When theſe you draw, think on thoſe cutting woes,
Thoſe pangs, thoſe dolours, thoſe vexatious throes
My minde endures for your neglect, and ſay,
Th'art welcome now, for thou haſt cut thy way.

The preſentation of a pair of Bracelets.

HAd it been poſſible, in power of Art,
Teares (the ſalt iſſue of a grieved heart)
So to cement, and harden that with eaſe,
They kindly might aſſociate, as do theſe;
Miſtreſſe I could have ſpared, at cheap rate
Enough, for to have bought an Indians fate;
So often have the Lymbecks, of my eyes
Condol'd, in briny drops, your cruelties
Theſe, for your uſe, were plunder'd from the Sea,
Where they were guarded by Lucothoe,
She to Ʋlyſſes, prov'd moſt kinde, and I
Hope ſome hid vertue in theſe ſtones doth lie
Infus'd by her, Oh, now no longer check
My hopes, as theſe about your ſnowy neck
Have place, ſo be you pleas'd at length (dear Saint)
My Arms with the ſame office to acquaint.

A perſwaſion to Love.

THe deeper (Miſtreſſe) that your Love is ſet,
The more form, and impreſſion it will get;
And bring forth riper fruits, then ſuch as grow,
And fooliſhly are planted, ſcarce ſo low.
If you pleaſe to command me, what I ſeem
By this ſtamp't word Impreſſion, for to mean?
Ile tell you (Lady) onely ſuch as theſe
Impreſſions have, and ſtill can women pleaſe.
Coyn, onely for its ſtamps ſake we allow,
And that ſame evidence is weak you know
And faulty (ſure) that hath no ſeal to ſhow
Stamp, or Impreſſion, and even ſuch I ken
Are all your Sex, untill th'are ſtampt by men,
Weak, weak you are, heaven knows, for why? you take
Your chief perfections from the man you make,
Then Lady, if you have deſire to be
Perfect, you needs muſt have recourſe to me,
Or to ſome other, that will freely give
The ſame our father Adam gave to Eve.
Alas, 'tis nothing, pray you (Miſtreſſe) take it,
There's many wiſh it, that ſeem to forſake it,
And when the ſhamefull dance is paſt and done,
They much do wiſh, they had the ſame begun
A ſcore of year's, before at firſt they learn't it,
And now with any coſt, they'l gladly earn it.

The preſentation of a Muffe.

THis is no*
*Skins of the greateſt price, and onely worn by Kings,
* ERMINS skin, though I
Could wiſh no worſe obſcurity,
Clouded your radiant hands, but this
Next unto that the coſtlieſt is,
Such as the nobleſt Ruſſian Dame
On gawdy dayes, is proud to claim.
Sol now, in other parts doth raign
Boetes (in his frozen wain)
His Viceroy is, Hyems doth finde
Conjunction with the bleak North winde,
By aide of this (dear Saint) you may
Deride the fury of the day,
When you ſhall deigne this furre to wear,
Oh! think what mighty power you bear
Over my ſenſes, ſometimes chill,
And ſometime warm, as fear doth fill
My heart, or joy raviſh my minde
In hope, you yet may prove more kinde.


BLeſſed be this paire
On the earth, in the aire.
Bleſſed in their laſting joyes,
Bleſſed in their Girles, and boyes,
Let them live to hear it told
Their great Grand-Children are grown old,
Let her beauty ever laſt,
And her vigour never waſte,
Let the Sea, that bounds theſe Iſles
Ebb, at leaſt ten thouſand miles,
And return no more, but leave
New Kingdoms for them to bequeath,
Let their bodies not be ſound,
Dwelling in the ſluttiſh ground.
But tranſlated to thoſe Thrones
Onely built for bleſſed ones.


SIllius hath brought from ſtrange, and forreigne Lands,
A black, and Sootia wench, with many hands,
The which (ſay ſome) in golden Letters ſay,
She is his deareſt wife, not ſtoln away,
He might have ſav'd (heaven knows) with ſmall diſcretion
The Paper, and the Ink, and his confeſſion;
For none, that doth behold her face, and making
Will judge ſhe ere was ſtoln, but by miſtaking.


ADieu ſweet Delia, for I muſt depart,
And leave thy ſight, and with thy ſight all joy
Convoy'd with care, attend'd with annoy,
A vagabonding wretch from part to part.
Onely dear Delia, grant me ſo much grace,
As to vouchſafe this heart, diſtraught with ſorrow,
To attend upon thy ſhadow, even, and morrow,
Whoſe wonted pleaſure was to view thy face.
And if ſometimes, thou penſive do remain,
And for thy deareſt dear, a ſigh let'ſt ſlide,
This poor attendant ſitting by thy ſide,
Shall be thy Eccho, to reply again.
Then farewell Delia, for I muſt away,
But to attend thee, my poor heart ſhall ſtay.


A Man there was, who liv'd a merry life,
Till in the end, he took him to a wife,
One that no image was (for ſhe could ſpeak)
And now and then her husbands coſtrel break,
So fierce ſhe was, and furious as in ſum,
She was an arrant Devil of her tongue.
This drove the poor man to a diſcontent,
And oft, and many times did he repent,
That e're he chang'd his former quiet ſtate,
But 'las, repentance thē did come too late,
No cure he findes, to heal this mallady,
But makes a vertue of neceſſity,
The common cure for care to every man,
A pot of nappy Ale, where he began
To fortifie his brains, 'gainſt all ſhould come,
' Mongſt which, the clamour of his wives low'd tongue,
This habit grafted in him, grew ſo ſtrong,
That when he was from Ale, an houre ſeem'd long,
So well he liked th' profeſſion, on a time
Having ſtaid long at pot (for rule nor line
Limits no drunkard) even from morne to night,
He haſted home apace, by the Moon light,
Where as he went, what phantaſies were bred
I do not know, in his diſtempered head,
But a ſtrange Ghoſt appear'd (and forc'd him ſtay)
With which perplext, he thus beganne to ſay,
Good ſpirit if thou be, I need no charme,
For well I know, thou wilt not do me harm,
Or if the Devil, ſure, me thou ſhould'ſt not hurt,
I wedd thy ſiſter, I am plagued for't,
The ſpirit well approving what he ſaid,
Diſſolv'd to aire, and quickly vaniſhed.

A pleſant Song.

WHen Autumn 'diſroabed the woods of their leaves,
And provident Ceres, had got in her ſheaves,
When Acorns were fallen,
And Shrubs were grown dead,
Then froſty old Hyems, with Flora would wed.
A rotten old Ruſtick, with hobnailes in's ſhoes,
With cobled old Rethorick, a Virgin he woes;
Yea, vertue proves venial,
And beauty is ſold,
And Mopſus get his Miſa, with Plutho's gold.
Since lovely Corinna, ſo peereleſſe a Gem,
Muſt match with a block, and ſo ſapleſſe a ſtem,
Let Daphne bewail it,
And Cynthia mourn.
And all the Nymphs mirth, into heavineſſe turn.
Diana the loſſe of her Nymph doth deplore,
And vowes him Acteons bad fortune, and more,
A Bull Jove will make him,
And ſo he doth vow,
His wife he will turn into IO the Cow.
Like Venus to Vulcan, ſo chaſte let her prove,
As conſtant and quiet, as Iuno to Iove,
As kinde as Zantippe.
To Socrates was.
So let this rude Coridon finde his ſweet Laſſe.


MAy no annoy
Diſturb our joy.


Suſpition flie
And jealouſie.


We joyntly both
Have plighted troth.


Where's Love, there's bliſſe;
Where's hate, there's diſſe.


Our loyal Love
Was made above.


No ill ſhall ſpot
Our Gordian knot.


Our hands have given
Our hearts to Heaven.


Thou art my ſtar,
Be not irregular.


What can outvy
Our Harmony?


WHen men and women bluſhleſſe grow
In filthineſſe, and act it ſo,
As if a ſtallion to be known,
A Princely quality were grown,
Or when your Ladies do appear,
(As if old heath'niſh Rome were here)
By Coachfulls, with a brazen face,
To ſee men run a naked race,
And when ſin to a rankneſſe ſprings
Beyond the reach of libellings,
And libelling ſo common be,
That none ſhall from their dirt be free,
Though ne're ſo innocent (but thoſe
Whom no man hates, envies, or knows)
Then look for that, which will enſue
Such impudence, if heaven be true.

Epithalamium, Or A Nuptiall Song.

CRowned be thou Queen of love
By thoſe glorious powers above,
Love, and beauty joyn'd together,
May they col, and kiſſe each other,
And in mid'ſt of their delight,
Shew the pleaſure in the night,
For where acts of love reſort
Longeſt nights, ſeem too too ſhort.
May thou ſleeping dream of that,
Which thou waking doſt pertake,
That both ſleep, and watching may,
Make the darkeſt night ſeem day.
In thy pleaſures, may thy ſmile
Burniſh, like the Camomile,
Which in verdure is increaſt
Moſt, when it is moſt depreſt.
Vertues, as they do attend thee,
So may Soveraign thoughts defend thee.
Acting in thy love with him,
Wedlock actions are no ſin,
Be he loyal ever thine,
He thy picture, thou his ſhrine,
Thou the metal, he the mint,
Thou the Wax, and he the print,
He the Lanthorn, thou the Lamp,
Thou the bulloyn, he the ſtamp,
He the image, leg, and limb,
Thou the mold to caſt him in,
He the Plummet, thou the Center,
Thou to ſhelter, he to enter.

The finiſhing of uſual, and ordinary Epistles.

YOur friend to ſerve you,
Your faithfull friend.
Your obliged friend.
Your friend and ſervant.
Your conſtant friend.
Your immutable friend.
Or thus:
Your ſervant.
Your humble ſervant.
Your very ſervant.
Your humbleſt ſervant.
The ſervant of your worth.
The ſervant of your worthy vertues.
36Or thus.
Your honourer.
Your admirer.
Your adorer.
Your Beadſman.
Yours devoted.
Yours affectionately, &c.

For Amorous Epiſtles.

The honourer of your perfections.
The adorer of your beauty.
Your beauties vaſſail.
Your obſequious ſervant.
Your languiſhing Lover.
Yours, more than his own.
Yours, wholy to be diſpoſed of.
Yours, in life, or death.
Yours, or his Grave's.

Superſcriptions for uſual, and ordinaly Epiſtles.

For the much honoured.
For my approved friend.
For my true friend.
For my much reſpected friend.
For the much merriting, &c.
For the worthily honoured.
For my dearly loved friend.
For the pious, and truely learned.

Superſcriptions for Amorous Epistles.

FOr the truely chaſte, and exquiſitely beauteous.
For the fair and vertuous.
For the mirrour of her Sex.
For the beauteous, and moſt ingenious.
For the glorie of her Sex.
For the gallant and truely noble.
For the ſweet and vertuous.
For the truely chaſte and pious.
For the pattern of perfection.

If any list to make a conceited concluſion to his Letter, then thus.

FRom me, and mine,
To you and yours,
From time to times,
Our prayers like ſhowers
Diffuſed be
Your worth's obſerver.

About this transcription

TextCupids cabinet unlock't, or, The new accademy [sic] of complements Odes, epigrams, songs, and sonnets, poesies, presentations, congratulations, ejaculations, rhapsodies, &c. With other various fancies. Created partly for the delight, but chiefly for the use of all ladies, gentlemen, and strangers, who affect to speak elegantly, or write queintly. By W. Shakespeare.
AuthorShakespeare, William, 1564-1616, attributed name..
Extent Approx. 33 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 21 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images.
SeriesEarly English books online.
Additional notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A81182)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 135712)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 2479:5)

About the source text

Bibliographic informationCupids cabinet unlock't, or, The new accademy [sic] of complements Odes, epigrams, songs, and sonnets, poesies, presentations, congratulations, ejaculations, rhapsodies, &c. With other various fancies. Created partly for the delight, but chiefly for the use of all ladies, gentlemen, and strangers, who affect to speak elegantly, or write queintly. By W. Shakespeare. Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616, attributed name.. [2], 38 p. s.n.,[S.l. :1650?]. (Not in fact by William Shakespeare. "Except for extracts from the poet, this cannot be numbered among [Shakespeare's] productions." -- Jaggard, William. Shakespeare bibliography.) (Wing dates this before 1700.) (In verse.) (Copy filmed at UMI microfilm Early English Books 1641-1700 reel 2479 lacks pages 5-6.) (Reproduction of original in the Folger Shakespeare Library.)

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  • Text Creation Partnership,
ImprintAnn Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2012-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 2).
  • DLPS A81182
  • STC Wing C7597A
  • STC ESTC R224860
  • EEBO-CITATION 99897204
  • PROQUEST 99897204
  • VID 135712

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