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So he on me; refus'd and made away,
I could renew those times, when first I saw
Of being officious, be impertinent;
But being got it is a treasure sweet,
Which to defend is harder than to get :
And ought not be profan'd on either part,
For though 't is got by chance, 't is kept by art.
The right true end of love, he's one that goes
Love is a bear-whelp born, if we o'er-lick
The wholesoinness, the ingenuity,
Can men more injure women than to say
'Above the earth, the earth we till and love: Curs'd may he be, that so our love hath slain, So we her airs contemplate, words and heart, And wander on the Earth, wretched as Cain, And virtues; but we love the centric part. Wretched as be, and not deserve least pity ;
Nor is the soul more worthy, or more fit In plaguing him let misery be witty.
For love, than this, as infinite as it. Let all eyes shun him, and he shun each eye, But in attaining this desired place Till he be noisome as bis infamy ;
How much they err, that set out at the face May he without remorse deny God thrice,
The hair a forest is of ambushes, And not be trusted more on his soul's price; Of springs and snares, fetters and manacles : And after all self-torment, when he dies
The brow becalms us, when 't is smooth and plain; May wolves tear out his heart, vultures his eyes; And wben 't is wrinkled, shipwrecks us again. Swine eat his bowels; and bis falser tongue, Smooth, 't is a paradise, where we would have That utter'd all, be to some raven fung;
Immortal stay; but wrinkled, 't is a grave. And let his carrion-corse be a longer feast The nose (like to the sweet meridian) runs To the king's dogs, than any other beast.
Not: 'twixt an east and west, but 'twixt two suns i Now I have curs’d, let us our love revive;
It leaves a cheek, a rosy hemisphere In me the flatne was never more alive;
On either side, and then directs us where I could begin again to court and praise,
Upon the Islands Fortunate we fall, And in that pleasure lengthen the short days Not faint Canaries, but ambrosial. Of my life's lease ; like painters, that do take Unto her swelling lips when we are come, Delight, not in made works, but whilst they make. We anchor there, and think ourselves at home,
For they seem all: there syrens' songs, and there A Heav'n like Mahomet's paradise; and though Wise Delphic oracles do fill the ear;
Ill spirits walk in white, we eas'ly know Then in a creek, where chosen pearls do swell By this these angels from an evil sprite; The remora, her cleaving tongue doth dwell. Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright. These and the glorious promontory) her chin License my roving hands, and let them go Being past the straits of Hellespont, between Before, behind, between, above, below. The Sestos and Abydos of her breasts,
O my America! my Newfoundland ! (Not of two lovers, but two loves the nests) My kingdom's safest when with one man man'd. Succeeds a boundless 'sea, but yet thine eye My mine of precious stones: my empery, Some isiand moles may scatter'd there descry; How am I bless'd in thus discovering thee ! And sailing towards her India, in that way To enter in these bonds is to be free; Shall at ber fair Atlantic navel stay;
Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be. Though there the current be the pilot made,
Full nakedness! all joys are due to thee; Yet ere thon be wbere thou should'st be embay'd, As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth'd must be, Thou shalt upon another forest set,
To taste whole joys. Gems, which you women use, Where many shipwreck and no further get. Are like Atlanta's ball, cast in men's views; When thou art there, consider what this chase That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem, Misspent, by thy beginning at the face.
His earthly soul may court that, and not them: Rather set out below.; practise my art; Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings, made Some symmetry the foot hath with that part For laymen, are all women thus array'd. Which thou dost seek, and is thy map for that, Themselves are only mystic books, which we Lovely enough to stop, but not stay at:
(Whom their imputed grace will dignify) Least subject to disguise and change it is;
Must see reveal'd. Then since that I may know; Men say the Devil never can change bis.
As liberally as to thy midwife show It is the emblem, that bath figured
Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence; Firmness; 't is the first part that comes to bed. There is no penance due to innocence. Civility we see refin'd: the kiss,
To teach thee, I am naked first; why, then, Which at the face began, transplanted is,
What need'st thou have more covering than a man?
FREDERICK COUNT PALATINE OF THE RHYNE, Rich Nature hath in women wisely made
AND THE LADY ELIZABETH,
BEING MARRIED ON ST. VALENTINE'S DAY.
Hail bishop Valentine, whose day this is,
All the air is thy diocese,
And all the chirping choristers
Thou marry'st every year
The lyric lark, and the grave whispering dove;
The sparrow, that neglects his life for love;
The household bird with the red stomacher;
Thou mak'st the blackbird speed as soon, Come, madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
As doth the goldfinch or the balcyon; Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The husband cock looks out, and straight is sped, The foe oft-times having the foe in sight
And meets his wife, which brings her feather-bed.
All that is nothing unto this,
Thou mak'st a taper see
Two phenixes, whose joined breasts Of with that wiry coronet, and show
Are unto one another mutual nests; The bairg diadem, which on your head doth grow: Where motion kindles such fires, as shall give Now off with those shoes, and then softly tread Young phenixes, and yet the old shall live: In this Love's hallow'd temple, this soft bed. Whose love and courage never shall decline, In such white robes Heaven's angels us'd to be But make the whole year through thy day, Va. Rereal'd to men: thou angel bring'st with thee
HIS ACTIONS THERE.
Up then, fair phenix bride, frustrate the Sun; They pay, they give, they lend, and so let fall Thyself from thine affection
No occasion to be liberal. Tak'st warmth enough, and from thine eye More truth, more courage in these two do shine, All lesser birds will take their jollity.
Than all thy turtles have and sparrows, Valentine. Up, up, fair bride, and call Thy stars from out their several boxes, take And by this act of these two phenixes Thy rubies, pearls, and diamonds forth, and make Nature again restored is; Thyself a constellation of them all:
For since these two are two no more, And by their blazing signify,
There 's but one phenix still, as was before. That a great princess falls, but doth not die :
Rest now at last, and we Be thou a new star, that to us portends
(As satyrs watch the Sun's uprise) will stay Ends of much wonder; and be thou those ends. Waiting when your eyes opened let out day, Since thou dost this day in new glory shine, Only desir'd, because your face we see ; May all men date records from this day, Valentine. Others near you shall whispering speak,
And wagers lay, at which side day will break, Come forth, come forth, and as one glorious flame, And win by observing then whose band it is Meeting another, grows the same:
That opens first a curtain, her's or his; So meet thy Frederick, and so
This will be tried to morrow after pine, To an unseparable union go ;
Till which hour we thy day enlarge, O Valentine.
DECEMBER, 26, 1613.
MAS TIME, REPREHENDS HIS ABSENCE FROM COURT, AT Desides this bishop's knot, of bishop Valentine.
THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET ; IDIOS
GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF HIS PURPOSE THEREIN, AND OF But oh! what ails the Sun, that hence he stays
Longer to day than other days?
Stays he new light from these to get? And finding here such stars, is loath to set ?
UNSEASONABLE man, statue of ice, And hy do you two walk
What could to country's solitude entice So slowly pac'd in this procession ?
Thee, in this year's cold and decrepid time? Is all your care but to be look'd upon,
Nature's instinct draws to the warmer clime And be to others spectacle and talk ?
Ev'n smaller birds, who by that courage dare The feast with gluttonous delays
Iu numerous fleets sail through their sea, the air. Is eaten, and too long their meat they praise. What delicacy can in fields appear, The maskers come late, and I think will stay, Whilst Flora herself doth a frize jerkin wear? Like fairies, till the cock crow them away.
Whilst winds do all the trees and hedges strip Alas! did not antiquity assign
Of leaves, to furnish rods enough to whip A night as well as day to thee, old Valentine ? Thy madness from thee, and all springs by frost
Having tak’n cold, and their sweet murmurs lost? They did, and night is come: 'and yet we see If thou thy faults or fortunes would'st lament Formalities retarding thee.
With just solemnity, do it in Lent: What mean these ladies, which (as though At court the spring already advanced is, They were to take a clock in pieces) go
The Sun stays longer up; and yet not his So nicely about the bride?
The glory is; far other, other fires: A bride, before a good-night could be said, First zeal to prince and state ; then love's desires Should vanish from her clothes into her bed; Burn in one breast, and like Heav'n'stwo great lights, As souls from bodies steal, and are not spy'd. The first doth govern days, the other nights.
But now she's laid: what though she be? And then that early light, which did appear Yet there are more delays; for where is he? Before the Sun and Moon created were, He comes and passeth through sphere after sphere; The prince's favour, is diffus'd o'er all, First her sheets, then her arms, then any wbere. From which all fortunes, names, and natures fall; Let not this day then, but this night be thine, Then from those wombs of stars, the bride's bright Thy day was but the eve to this, ( Valentine.
At every glance a constellation fies, Here lies a she Sun, and a he Moon there,
And sows the court with stars, and doth prevent She gives the best light to his sphere,
In light and power the all-ey'd firmament. Or each is both, and all, and so
First her eyes kindle other ladies' eyes, They unto one another nothing owe;
Then from their beains their jewels' lustres rise, And yet they do, but are
And from their jewels torcbes do take fire; So just and rich in that coin which they pay, And all is warmth, and light, and good desire. That neither would, nor needs, forbear nor stay, Most other courts, alas! are like to Hell, Neither desires to be spar'd, nor to spare: Where in dark plots fire without light doth dwell:
They quickly pay their debt, and then Or but like stoves, for lust and envy get Take no acquittances, but pay again;
Continual but artificial heat;
THE TIME OF THE MARRIAGE.
Here zeal and love, grown one, all clouds digest, Of his own thoughts; I would not therefore stay And make our court an everlasting east.
At a great feast, having no grace to say.
And yet I 'scap'd not here ; for being come
Either the court or men's hearts to invade ;
But since I am dead and buried, I could frame As Hear'n, to men dispos'd, is ev'ry where;
No epitaph, which might advance my fame So are those courts, whose princes animate,
So much as this poor song, which testifies
I did unto that day some sacrifice.
Thou art repriev'd, old Year, thou shalt not die, So reclus'd hermits oftentimes do know
Though thou upon thy death-bed lie,
And should'st within five days expire;
Yet thou art rescu'd from a mightier fire,
Than thy old soul, the Sun,
When he doth in his largest circle run.
open wide their easy liquid jaw As their own common soul, give life to both.
To all our ships, could a Promethean art
Either unto the northern pole impart And am I then from court?
The fire of these inflaming eyes, or of this loving
EQUALITY OF PERSONS,
But, undiscerning Muse, which heart, which eyes, A little spice or amber in thy taste?
In this new couple dost thou prize,
When his eye as inflaming is
Be tried by beauty, and then
If by that manly courage they be try'd,
Divide these two, whom Nature scarce did part, From higher powers; froin God religion springs; Since both have the inflaming eye, and both the Wisdom and honour from the use of kings:
RAISING OF THE BRIDEGROOM.
Though it be some divorce to think of you
Single, so much one are you two, Might'st have read more than all thy books be- Let me here contemplate thee Hast thou a history, which doth present [wray:
first, cheerful bridegroom, and first let me see A court, where all affections do assent
How thou prevent'st the Sun, Unto the king's, and that, that kings are just ?
And his red foaming horses dost outrun; And where it is no levity to trust,
How, having laid down in thy sovereign's breast Where there is no ambition but t'obey,
All businesses, from thence to reinvest Where men need whisper nothing, and yet may;
Them, when these triumphs cease, thou forward art Where the king's favours are so plac'd, that all
To show to her, who doth the like impart, Find that the king therein is liberal
The fire of thy inflaming eyes, and of thy loving To them, in him, because his favours bend
But now to thee, fair bride, it is some wrong, And is no more in his minority;
To think thou wert in bed so long;
Since soon thou liest down first, 't is fit
Powder thy radiant hair,
Thou who, to all which come to look upon,
Wert meant for Phoebus, would'st be Phaeton.
For our ease give thine eyes th' unusual part All this, and only therefore I withdrew.
Of joy, a lear; so quench'd, thou may'st impart, To know and feel all this, and not to have
To us that come, thy' inflaming eyes; to him, thy Words to express it, makes a man a grave
RAISING OF THE BRIDE.
THE BRIDEGROOM'S COMING. Thus thou descend'st to our infirmity,
As he that sees a star fall runs apace, Who can the San in water see.
And finds a gelly in the place, So dost thoa, when in silk and gold
So doth the bridegroom haste as much, Thon cloud'st thyself ; since we, which do behold, Being told this star is falln, and finds her such Are dust and worms, 't is just
And as friends may look strange Our objects be the fruits of worms and dust. By a new fashion, or apparel's change : Let every jewel be a glorious star;
Their souls, thongh long acquainted they had been, Yet stars are not so pure as their spheres are. These clothes, their bodies, never yet had seen. And though thou stoop, ťappear to us in part,
Therefore at first she modestly might start, Still in that picture thou entirely art, [ing heart. But must forthwith surrender every part (or heart. Which thy inflaming eyes have made within his lov- As freely, as each to each before gave either hand
GOING TO THE CHAPEL.
THE GOOD NIGHT. Now from your east you issue forth, and we,
Now, as in Tullia's tomb one lamp burnt clear, As men, which through a cypress see
Unchang'd for fifteen hundred year, The rising Sun, do think it two;
May these love-lamps, we here enshrine, So, as you go to church, do think of you:
In warmth, light, lasting, equal the divine. But that vail being gone,
Fire ever doth aspire, By the church rites you are from thenceforth one.
And makes all like itself, turns all to fire, The church triumphant made this match before,
But ends in ashes; which these cannot do, And now the militant doth strive no more.
For none of these is fuel, but fire too. Then, reverend priest, who God's recorder art,
This is joy's bonfire then, where Love's strong arts Do from his dictates to these two impart
Make of so noble individual parts [hearts. All blessings which are seen, or thought, by angel's One fire of four inflaming eyes, and of two loving
eye or heart.
As I have brought this song, that I may do Bless'd pair of swans, oh may you interbring
A perfect sacrifice, I 'll burn it too. Daily new joys, and never sing:
Live, till all grounds of wishes fail, Till honour, yea till wisdom grow so stale, That new great heights to try,
No, sir, this paper I have justly got, It must serve your ambition, to die,
For in burnt incense the perfuine is not Raise heirs, and may here to the world's end live
His only, that presents it, but of all; Heirs from this king to take thanks, you, to give.
Whatever celebrates this festival
Is common, since the joy thereof is so.
Such altars, as prize your devotion.
FEASTS AND REVELS.
But you are over-bless'd. Plenty this day
Injures; it causeth time to stay;
MADE AT LINCOLN'S INN.
Leave, leave, fair bride, your solitary bed,
No more shall you return to it alone,
It nurseth sadness; and your body's print, The masks and banquets will not yet impart
Like to a grave, the yielding down doth dint; A sun-set to these weary eyes, a centre to this heart.
You and your other you meet there anon :
Put forth, put forth, that warm balm-breathing
[smother, What mean'st thou, bride, this company to keep? Which when next time you in these sheets will To sit up, till thou fain would sleep?
There it must meet acother, Thou may'st not, when thou 'rt laid, do so, Which never was, but must be oft niore nigh; Thyself must to him a new banquet grow,
Come glad from thence, go gladder than you came, And you must entertain,
To day put on perfection, and a woman's name. And do all this day's dances o'er again. - Know, that if Sun and Moon together do
Daughters of London, you which be Rise in one point, they do not set so too.
Our golden mines, and furnish'd treasury; Therefore thou may'st, fair bride, to bed depart, You which are angels, yet still bring with you Thou art not gone being gone; where'er thou art, Thousands of angels on your marriage days, Thou leav'st in him thy watchful eyes, in him thy Help with your presence, and devise to praise loving heart.
These rites, which also unto you grow due ;