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Things are distinct, and must the same appear Thy teeth in white do Leda's swan exceed;
To every piercing eye or well-tun'd ear. [meet: Thy skin's a heavenly and immortal weed;
Though sweets with your's, sharps best with my taste And when thou breath'st, the winds are ready straight
Both must agree, this meat's or sharp, or sweet. To filch it from thee; and do therefore wait
But if I scent a stench, or a perfume,

Close at thy lips, and, snatching it from thence, Whilst you smell nought at all, I may presume Bear it to Heaven, where 't is Jove's frankincense. You have that sense imperfect: so you may Fair goddess, since thy feature makes thee one, Affect a sad, merry, or humorous play;

Yet be not such for these respects alone ;
If, though the kind distaste or please, the good But as you are divine in outward view,
And bad be by your judgment understood : So be within as fair, as good, as true.
But if, as in this play, where with delight
I feast my Epicurean appetite
With relishes so curious, as dispense
The utmost pleasure to the ravish'd sense,
You should profess that you can nothing meet

THE ENQUIRY.
That hits your taste either with sharp or sweet,
But cry out, 'T is insipid; your bold tongue

Amongst the myrtles as I walk'd,
May do its master, not the author wrong;

Love and my sighs thus intertalk'd: For men of better palate will by it

“ Tell me, (said I in deep distress) Take the just elevation of your wit.

Where may I find my shepherdess?"
“ Thou fool," (said Love) “ know'st thou not this,
In every thing that 's good she is?
In yonder tulip go and seek,

There thou mayst find her lip, her cheek.
MY FRIEND WILLIAM D'AVENANT.

“ In yon enamel'd pansy by,
I CROWDED 'mongst the first, to see the stage There thou shalt have her curious eye.
(Inspir'd by thee) strike wonder in our age, In bloom of peach, in rosy bud,
By thy bright fancy dazzled; where each scene There wave the streamers of her blood.
Wrought like a charm, and forc'd the audience lean
To th' passion of thy pen: thence ladies went “ In brightest lilies that there stand,
(Whose absence lovers sigh'd for) to repent The emblems of her whiter hand,
Their unkind scorn; and courtiers, who by art In yonder rising hill there smell
Made love before, with a converted heart,

Such sweets as in her bosom dwell."
To wed those virgins, whom they woo'd t'abuse;
Both render'd Hymen's pros’lites by thy Muse. “ 'T is true” (said 1): and thereupon

But others, who were proof 'gainst love, did sit I went to pluck them one by one,
To learn the subtle dictates of thy wit;

To make of parts a union;
And, as each profited, took his degree,

But on a sudden all was gone.
Master, or bachelor, in comedy.
We of th' adult'rate mixture not complain, With that I stopt : said Love, “ These be,
But thence more characters of virtue gain;

Fond man, resemblances of thee:
More pregnant patterns of transcendent worth, And, as these flow'rs, thy joys shall die,
Than barren and insipid fruit brings forth :

Er'n in the twinkling of an eye:
So, oft the bastard nobler fortune meets,

And all thy hopes of her shall wither, Than the dull issue of the lawful sheets.

Like these short sweets thus knit together!.”

TO

THE COMPARISON.

THE SPARK.
DEAREST, thy tresses are not threads of gold,
Thy eyes of diamonds, nor do I hold

My first love, whom all beauties did adorn,
Thy lips for rubies, thy fair cheeks to be

Firing my heart, supprest it with her scorn; Fresh roses, or thy teeth of ivory:

Sunlike to tinder in my breast it lies,
Thy skin, that doth thy dainty body sheath, By every sparkle made a sacrifice.
Not alabaster is, nor dost thou breath

Each wanton eye now kindles my desire,
Arabian odours; those the earth brings forth, And that is free to all, that was entire.
Compar'd with which, would but impair thy worth. Desiring more by thee, desire I lost,
Such may be others' mistresses, but mine

As those that in consumptions hunger most; Holds nothing earthly, but is all divine.

And now my wand'ring thoughts are uot confind Thy tresses are those rays that do arise,

Unto one woman, but to woman-kind :
Not from one sun, but two; such are thy eyes;
Thy lips congealed nectar are, and such
As, but a deity, there 's none dare touch;

1 This little poem, with the several little love The perfect crimson that thy cheek doth cloath verses and songs that follow, fully evince our poet's (But only that it far exceeds them both)

superior genius on the subject of love. We rish Aurora's blush resembles, or that red

he had never sacrificed at any shrine but the shrine That Iris strnts in when her mantle 's spread; in Cyprus.

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This for her shape 1 love; that for her face ; Ask me no more, whither doth haste This for ber gesture or some other grace;

The nightingale, when May is past; And where I done of these do use to find,

For in your sweet dividing throat choose there by the kernel, not the rind : She winters, and keeps warın her nole. And so I hope, since first my hopes are gone, To find in inany what I lost in one;

Ask me no more, where those stars light, And, like to merchants after some great loss, That downwards fall in dead of night; Trade by retail, that cannot now in gross.

For in your eyes they sit, and there the fault is hers that made me go astray;

Fixed become, as in their sphere.
He needs must wander that hath lost his way.
Guiltless I am ; she did this change provoke, Ask me no more, if east or west,
And made that charcoal which to her was oak: The phenix builds her spicy nest ;
God as a looking-glass, from the aspect,

For unto you at last she flies,
Vhilst it is whole, doth but one face reflect, And in your fragrant bosom dies.
But being crack'd or broken, there are shown
Many half-faces, which at first were one;
o love unto my heart did first prefer
Jer image, and there planted none but her;
fut since 't was broke and martyrd by her scorn,

SONG, lany less faces in her face are born: hus, like to tinder, am I prone to catch

Would you know what 's soft, I dare ach falling sparkle, fit for any match.

Not bring you to the down or air;
Nor to stars to show what 's bright,
Nor to snow to teach you white.
Nor, if you would music hear,
Call the orbs to take your ear;

Nor, to please your sense, bring forth SIGHT OF A GENTLEWOMAN'S FACE

Bruised nard, or what's more worth.

ON

IN THE WATER.

SAND still, you Aoods, do not deface
That image which you bear:
· votaries, from every place,
To you shall altars rear.

Or, on food were your thoughts plac'd,
Bring you nectar for a taste:
Would you have all these in one,
Name my mistress, and 't is done.

o winds but lovers' sighs blow here,
To trouble these glad streams,
a which no star from any sphere
Did ever dart such beams.

THE HUE AND CRY.

o crystal then in baste congeal,
Lest you should lose your bliss;
ad to my cruel fair reveal,
How cold, how hard she is.
ut if the envious nymphs shall fear
Their beauties will be scorn'd,
ad hire the ruder winds to tear
That face which you adorn'd;
ben rage and foam amain, that we
Their

malice may despise ;
nd from your froth we soon shall see
A second Venus rise.

In Love's name, you are charg'd hereby,
To make a speedy hue and cry
After a face which t' other day,
Stole my wand'ring heart away.
To direct you, these, in brief,
Are ready marks to know the thief.

Her hair a net of beams would prove,
Strong enough to captive Jove
In his eagle shape; her brow
Is a comely field of snow;
Her eye so rich, so pure a grey,
Every beam creates a day;
And if she but sleep (not when
The Sun sets) 't is night again;
In her cheeks are o be seen
Of fowers both the king and queen,
Thitber by the Graces led,
And freshly laid in nuptial bed ;
On whom lips like nymphs do wait,
Who deplore their virgin state;
Oft they blush, and blush for this,
That they one another kiss :
But observe, besides the rest,
You shall know this felon best
By her tongue; for if your ear
Once a heavenly music hear,
Such as neither gods nor men,
But from that voice, shall hear again,
That, that is she. O straight surprize,
And bring her unto Love's assize:

SONG.

Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
Then June is past, the fading rose;
or in your beauties, orient deep
hese flow'rs, as in their causes, sleep.
sk me no more, whither do stray
he golden atoms of the day;
or, in pure love, Heaven did prepare
hose powders to enrich your hair.

If you let her go, she may
Antedate the latter day,
Fate and philosophy controul,
And leave the world without a soul.

Sure that mistress, to whose beauty
First I paid a lover's duty,
Burnt in rage my heart to tinder;
That nor pray’rs, nor tears can hinder;
But wherever I do turn me,
Every spark let fall doth bum me.
Women, since you thus inflame me,
Flint and steel I'll ever name ye.

SONG.

TO HIS MISTRESS CONFINED.

A SONG.

O THINK not, Phæbe, cause a cloud
Doth now thy silver brightness shrowd,

My wand'ring eye
Can stoop to common beauties of the sky,

Rather be kind, and this eclipse
Shall neither binder eye nor lips;

For we shall meet
With our hearts, and kiss, and none shall see 't.
Nor canst thou in thy prison be,
Without some living sign of me:

When thou dost spy
A sun-beain peep into the room, 't is I;

For I am hid within a flame,
And thus into thy chamber came,

To let thee see
In what a martyrdom I burn for thee.
When thou dost touch thy lute, thou mayst
Think on my heart, on which thou play'st ;

When each sad tone
Upon the strings doth show my deeper groan.

Wheu thou dost please, they shall rebound
With nimble airs, struck to the sound

Of thy own voice;
O think how much I tremble and rejoice!
There is no sad picture that doth dwell
Upon thy Arras wall, but well

Resembles me.
No matter though our age do not agree,

Love can make old, as well as Time;
And he that doth but twenty climb,

If he dare prove
As true as 1, shows fourscore years in love.

In her fair cheeks two pits do lie,
To bury those slain by her eye;
So, spight of death, this comforts me,
That fairly buried I shall be:
My grave with rose and lilly spread,
o't is a life to be so dead.

Come then and kill me with thy eye,

For if thou let me live, I die. When I behold those lips again Reviving what those eyes have slain With kisses sweet, whose balsam pure Love's wounds, as soon as made, can cure ; Methinks 't is sickness to be sound, And there's no health to such a wound.

Come then, &c.

When in her chaste breast I behold, Those downy mounts of snow ne'er cold, And those blest hearts her beauty kills, Reviv'd by climbing those fair bills; Methinks there 's life in such a death, And so t' expire inspires new breath,

Come then, &c.

Nymph, since no death is deadly, where
Such choice of antidotes are near,
And your keen eyes but kill in vain
Those that are sound; as soon as slain,
That I no longer dead survive,
Your way 's to bury me alive
In Cupid's cave, where happy I
May dying live, and living die:

Come then and kill me with thy eye,
For if thou let me live, I die.

THE CARVER.

THE PRIMROSE, Ask me why I send you here This firstling of the infant year; Ask me why I send to you Tbis primrose all bepearld with dew; I straight will whisper in your ears, The sweets of love are wash'd with tears: Ask me why this flow'r doth show So yellow, green, and sickly too; Ask me why the stalk is weak, And bending, yet it doth not break; I must tell you, these discover What doubts and fears are in a lover.

TO HIS MISTRESS.

a

A CARVER, having lov'd too long in vain,

Hew'd out the portraiture of Venus' son In marble rock, upon the which did rain

Small drizzling drops that from a fount did run;' Imagining the drops would either wear

His fury out, or quench bis living flame: But when he saw it bootless did appear,

He swore the water did augment the same. So I, that seek in verse to carve thee out,

Hoping thy beauty will my flame allay, Viewing my lines impolish'd all throughout,

Find my will rather than my love obey; That, with the carver, I my work do blame, Finding it still th' augmenter of my flame.

THE TINDER. Of what mould did Nature frame me? Or was it her intent to sbaine me, That no woman can come near me, Fair, but her I court to hear me?

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1

Venus must lose her title now,
TO THE PAINTÈR.

And leave to brag of Cupid's bow;

Silly queen! Fond man, that hop'st to catch that face

She hath but one, but I can spy Vith those false colours, whose short grace

Ten thousand Cupids in thy eye. erves but to show the lookers on he faults of thy presumption ;

Nor may the Sun behold our bliss, Ir at the least to let us see,

For sure thy eyes do dazzle his; That is divine, but yet not she:

If thou fear ay you could imitate the rays

That he ’ll betray thee with his light, * those eyes that out-shine the day's;

Let me eclipse thee from his sight. #p counterfeit, in red and white, hat most uncounterfeited light

And while I shade thee from his eye, of her complexion ; yet canst thou,

Oh let me hear thee gently cry, Great master though thou be) tell how

Celia yields. o print a virtue? Then desist;

Maids often lose their maidenhead, 'his fair your artifice hath miss'd:

Ere they set foot in nuptial bed. ou should have mark'd how she begins o grow in virtue, not in sins; istead of that same rosy dye, ou should have drawn out Modesty, Vhose beauty sits enthroned there,

ON A DAMASK ROSE nd learns to look and blush at her. is can you colour just the same,

STICKING UPON A LADY'S BREAST. Then virtue blushes ; or when shame, 'hen sickness, and when innocence,

Let pride grow big, my rose, and let the clear

And damask colour of thy leaves appear. news pale or white unto the sense?

Let scent and looks be sweet, and bless that hand an sucb coarse varnish e'er be said o imitate her white and red?

That did transplant thee to that sacred land. his may do well elsewhere in Spain,

O happy thou that in that garden rests,

That paradise between that lady's breasts: mong those faces dy'd in grain;

There 's an eternal spring; there shalt thou lie, » you may thrive, and wbat you do rove the best picture of the two.

Betwixt two lilly mounts, and never die: esides (if all I hear be true)

There shalt thou spring among the fertile vallies, Sis taken ill by some, that you

By buds, like thee, that grow in midst of allies. bould be so insolently vain,

There none dare pluck thee, for that place is such, s to contrive all that rich gain

That but a god divine there 's none dare touch; ito one tablet, which alone

if any but approach, straight doth arise say teach us superstition;

A blushing lightning-Nash, and blasts his eyes.

There, 'stead of rain, shall living fountains flow; istructing our amazed eyes ' adınire and worship imag'ries,

For wind, her fragrant breath for ever blow.

Nor now, as erst, one sun shall en thee shine, uch as quickly might out-shine

But those two glorious suns, her eyes divine. ome new saint, wer 't allow'd a shrine,

O then what monarch would not think 't a grace, nd turn each wand'ring looker-on

To leave his regal throne to have thy place? ito a new Pygmalion.

Myself, to gain thy blessed seat, do vow Cet your art cannot equalize

Would be transforın'd into a rose as thou. This picture in her lover's eyes: lis eyes the pencils are, which limb ser truly, as her's copy him; lis heart the tablet, which alone s for that portrait the tru'st stone ;

THE PROTESTATION,
f you would a truer see,
Tark it in their posterity,

A SONNET
Ind you shall read it truly there,
When the glad world shall see their heir.

No more shall meads be deck'd with flowers,
Nor sweetness dwell in rosy bowers;
Nor greenest buds on branches spring,

Nor warbling birds delight to sing;
LOVE'S COURTSHIP.

Nor April violets paint the grove;

If I forsake my Celia's love.
(iss, lovely Celia, and be kind;
Eet my desires freedom find:

The fish shall in the ocean burn,
Sit thee down,

And fountains sweet shall bitter turn;
And we will make the gods confess,

The huinble oak no flood shall know Mortals enjoy some happiness.

When floods shall highest hills o'erflow; Mars would disdain his mistress' charms,

Black Lethe shall oblivion leare;
If he beheld thee in my arms,

If e'er my Celia 1 deceive.
And descend,
Thee bis mortal queen to make,

Love shall his bow and shaft lay by,
Or live as mortal for thy sake.

And Venus' doves want wings to fly;

7

The Sun refuse to show his light,
And day shall then be turn'd to night,

THE DART.
And in that night no star appear;
If once I leave my Celia dear.

OFT when I look, I may descry

A little face peep through that eye : Love shall no more inhabit Earth,

Sure that's the boy, which wisely chose Nor lovers more shall love for worth;

His throne among such beams as those,
Nor joy above in Heaven dwell,

Which, if his quiver chance to fall,
Nor pain torment poor souls in Hell;
Grim death no more shall horrid prore;

May serve for darts to kill withal.
If e'cr I leave bright Celia's love.

THE MISTAKE.

THE

.

a

a

When on fair Celia I did spy
TOOTH-ACH CURED BY A KISS.

A wounded heart of stone,

The wound had almost made me cry, Fate 's now grown merciful to men,

“ Sure this heart was iny own:" Turning disease to bliss : For had not kind rheum rex'd me then

But when I saw it was enthron'd I might not Celia kiss.

In her celestial breast, Physicians, you are now my scorn;

O then! I it no longer own'd,
For I have found a way

For mine was ne'er so blest.
To cure diseases, when forlorn
By your dull art, which may

Yet if in highest Heavens do shine

Each constant martyr's heart; Patch up a body for a time, a

Then she may well give rest to mine,
But can restore to health

That for her sake doth smart:
No more than chymists can sublime
True gold, the Indies' wealth.

Where, seated in so high a bliss,
The angel, sure, that us'd to move

Though wounded, it shall live:

Death enters not in Paradise;
The pool' meu so admir'd,

The place free life doth give.
Hath to her lip, the seat of love,
As to his Heaven, retir'd.

Or, if the place less sacred were,

Did but her saving eye
Bathe my sick heart in one kind tear,

Then should I never die.
TO THE JEALOUS MISTRESS.

Slight balms may heal a slighter sore;
Admit (thou darling of mine eyes)

No medicine less divine I have some idol lately fram'd;

Cau ever hope for to restore
That, under such a false disguise,

A wounded heart like mine.
Our true loves might the less be fam’d;
Cairst thou, that know'st my heart, suppose
I'll fall from thee, and worship those ?
Remember (dear) how loath and slow

TO MY LORD ADMIRAL',
I was to cast a look or smile,
Or ons love-line to mis-bestow,

ON HIS LATE SICKNESS AND RECOVERY.
Till thou hadst chang'd both face and stile ;
And art thou grown afraid to see

With joy like ours, the Thracian youth inrads That mask put on thou mad'st for me?

Orpheus returning from th' Elysian shade,

Embrace the hero, and his stay implore, I dare not call those childish fears,

Make it their public suit he would do more Coming from love, much less from thee,

Desert them so, and for his spouse's sake, Put wash away with frequent tears

His vanish'd love, tempt the Lethæau lake : This counterfeit idolatry;

The ladies too, the brightest of that time, And henceforth kneel at ne'er a shrine,

Ambitious all his lofiy bed to climb, To blind the world, but only thine.

Their doubtful hopes withi expectation feed,

Which shall the fair Eurydice succeed; "The pool of Bethesda near Jerusalem, which Euridice, for whom bis numerous moan was frequented by all kinds of diseased people. Through all the air; his sounding strings dilate

Makes list’ning trees and savage mountains gTUAI waiting for the moving of the waters. angel,” says St. John, “ went down at a certain Sorrow like that which touch'd our hearts of lats; season into the pool, and troubled the water: whosoever then first after the troubling of the water The duke of Buckingham, the unhappy fastepped in, was made whole of whatsoever disease rourite of Charles I. by whom he was appointin he bad."

Jord bigh admiral of Englanri.

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