ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE UNDER THE LONG Because you have thrown off your Prelate Lord, To force our consciences that Christ set, free, May with their wholesome and preventive shears POEMS OF SIR JOHN SUCKLING. [SIR JOHN SUCKLING, the Admirable Crichton of his time, was born in 1609, son of Charles I.'s comptroller of the household; educated at Trinity College, Cambridge; traveled on the Continent, and fought under Gustavus Adolphus (in the Marquis of Hamilton's contingent) 1631-1632; returning, wrote plays for court spectacles ("Aglaura," "The Goblins," "Brennoralt," etc.), and was leader of the court circle, in sports, fashion, and miscellaneous resourcefulness, besides being handsome, rich, and generous, a sparkling wit and graceful poet. In Charles's war of 1639, against the Covenanters, Suckling raised a troop of horse to fight for the King; was elected a royalist member of the Long Parliament in 1640; accused in 1641 of plotting to liberate Strafford, he fled to Paris and is supposed to have committed suicide there in 1642.] A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING. I TELL thee, Dick, where I have been, O, things without compare! Such sights again cannot be found At Charing-Cross, hard by the way, And there did I see coming down Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine Our landlord looks like nothing to him: At Course-a-Park, without all doubt, But wot you what? the youth was going The parson for him stayed: The maid (and thereby hangs a tale), No grape, that's kindly ripe, could be Her finger was so small, the ring, And to say truth (for out it must) Her feet beneath her petticoat, As if they feared the light: But O she dances such a way! Her cheeks so rare a white was on, (Who sees them is undone,) For streaks of red were mingled there, The side that's next the sun. Her lips were red, and one was thin, Than on the sun in July. Her mouth so small, when she does speak, But she so handled still the matter, Just in the nick the cook knocked thrice, His summons did obey; Each serving man, with dish in hand, When all the meat was on the table, To stay to be intreated? And this the very reason was, The business of the kitchen's great, Nor was it there denied: Passion o' me, how I run on! There's that that would be thought upon (I trow) besides the bride. Now hats fly off, and youths carouse; On the sudden up they rise and dance; By this time all were stolen aside, But yet 'twas thought he guessed her mind, ORSAMES' SONG IN "AGLAURA." Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Will, when looking well can't move her, Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move: This cannot take her. If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her. SONG. I prithee send me back my heart, For if from yours you will not part, Why then shouldst thou have mine? Yet now I think on't, let it lie, To find it were in vain, For th' hast a thief in either eye Why should two hearts in one breast lie O love, where is thy sympathy, If thus our breasts thou sever? But love is such a mystery, I cannot find it out: For when I think I'm best resolved, I then am in most doubt. Then farewell care, and farewell woe, I will no longer pine: For I'll believe I have her heart, As much as she hath mine. CONSTANCY. Out upon it, I have loved Time shall moult away his wings, Ere he shall discover In the whole wide world again But the spite on't is, no praise Is due at all to me: Love with me had made no stays, Had it any been but she. Had it any been but she, And that very face, There had been at least ere this A dozen dozen in her place. |