TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE WILLIAM LORD CRAVEN, BARON OF HAMSTED-MARSHAM. MY LORD, MANY of these poems have, for several impressions, wandered up and down, trusting (as well as they might) upon the author's reputation: neither do they now complain of any injury, but what may proceed either from the kindness of the printer, or the courtesy of the reader; the one, by adding something too much, lest any spark of this sacred fire might perish undiscerned; the other, by putting such an estimation upon the wit and fancy they find here, that they are content to use it as their own; as if a man should dig out the stones of a royal amphitheatre, to build a stage for a country show. Amongst all the monsters this unlucky age has teemed with, I find none so prodigious as the poets of these later times, wherein men, as if they would level understandings too, as well as estates, acknowledging no inequality of parts and judgments, pretend as indifferently to the chair of wit as to the pulpit, and conceive themselves no less inspired with the spirit of poetry, than with that of religion: so it is not only the noise of drums and trumpets which have drowned the Muse's harmony, or the fear that the church's ruin will destroy the priests' likewise, that now frights them from this country, where they have been so ingeniously received; but these rude pretenders to excellencies they unjustly own, who, profanely rushing into Minerva's temple, with noisome airs blast the laurel, which thunder cannot hurt. In this sad condition, these learned sisters are fled over to beg your lordship's protection, who have been so certain a patron both to arts and arms, and who, in this general confusion, have so entirely preserved your honour, that in your lordship we may still read a most perfect character of what England was in all her pomp and greatness. So that although these poems were formerly written upon several occasions to several persons, they now unite themselves, and are become one pyramid to set your lordship's statue upon; where you may stand, like armed Apollo, the defender of the Muses, encouraging the poets now alive to celebrate your great acts, by affording your countenance to his poems, that wanted only so noble a subject. My Lord, your most humble servant, JOHN DONNE. HEXASTICON BIBLIOPOLE. I SEE in his last preach'd and printed book, And sure his body in the grave hath one : Those sheets present him dead, these if you buy, JO. MAR. HEXASTICON AD BIBLIOPOLAM. INCERTI. In thy impression of Donne's poems rare, TO JOHN DONNE. DONNE, the delight of Phœbus, and each Muse, And which no' affection praise enough can give! To it thy language, letters, arts, best life, Which might with half mankind maintain a strife; BEN JONSON. POEMS OF JOHN DONNE, D. D. Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare, Our marriage bed and marriage temple is; Cruel and sudden, hast thou since Except in that blood, which it suck'd from thee? THE GOOD-MORROW. I worden, by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we lov'd were we not wean'd till then, Which I desir'd, and got, 't was but a dream of thee. And now good-morrow to our waking souls, My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, If our two loves be one, both thou and I We are not just those persons, which we were? Of Love and his wrath, any may forswear? Bind but till sleep, death's image, them unloose? For having purpos'd change and falsehood, you Dispute, and conquer, if I would; For by to morrow I may think so too. Busy old fool, unruly Sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows and through curtains, look on us? Late school-boys, or sour 'prentices, Go tell court-huntsmen, that the king will ride, Love, all alike, no season, knows nor clime, Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time. Thy beams, so reverend and strong, Dost thou not think I could eclipse, and cloud them with a wink, If her eyes have not blinded thine, She's all states, and all princes I, Princes do but play us; compar'd to this, In that the world 's contracted thus. THE UNDERTAKING. I HAVE done one braver thing, Than all the worthies did; And yet a braver thence doth spring, Which is, to keep that hid. It were but madness now t' impart When he, which can have learn'd the art So, if I now should utter this, Others (because no more Such stuff, to work upon, there is) Would love but as before. Be he, who loveliness within Hath found, all outward loathes; For he, who colour loves and skin, Loves but their oldest clothes. If, as I have, you also do Virtue in woman see, And dare love that, and say so too, And forget the he and she; And if this love, though placed so, From profane men you hide, Which will no faith on this bestow, Or, if they do, deride: Then you have done a braver thing, THE INDIFFERENT. "I CAN love both fair and brown; Her whom abundance melts, and her whom want [plays; betrays; Her who loves loneness best, and her who sports and Her who still weeps with spungy eyes, I can love her, and her, and you, and you, I can love any, so she be not true. Will no other vice content you? Will it not serve your turn to do, as did your mothers? Or have you all old vices worn, and now would find out others? Or doth a fear, that men are true, torment you? Let me; and do you twenty know. Venus heard me sing this song, And by love's sweetest sweet, variety, she swore, Which think to stablish dangerous constancy, For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love, Or the king's real or his stampted face Alas, alas! who 's injur'd by my love? What merchant's ships have my sighs drown'd? Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still Call's what you will, we are made such by love; W' are tapers too, and at our own cost die; By us, we two being one, are it: We can die by it, if not live by love. I AM two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining poetry; But where 's that wise man, that would not be I, If she would not deny? Then as th' Earth's inward narrow crooked lanes Do purge sea water's fretful salt away, I thought, if I could draw my pains Some man, his art or voice to show, LOVER'S INFINITENESS. If yet I have not all thy love, I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move; Than at the bargain made was meant: Or, if then thou giv'st me all,' All was but all, which thou hadst then: But if in thy heart since there be, or shall New love created be by other men, Which have their stocks entire, and can in tears, K/ |