Now take you up) know 'tis decreed

You straight bestride the college steed:
Leave Socinus and the schoolmen,

(Which Jack Boud swears do but fool men)
And come to town; 'tis fit you show
Your self abroad, that men may know
(Whate'er some learned men have guest)
That oracles are not yet ceas'd:
There you shall find the wit and wine
Flowing alike, and both divine:
Dishes, with names not known in books,
And less amongst the college-cooks;
With sauce so pregnant, that you need
Not stay till hunger bids you feed.
The sweat of learned Johnson's brain,
And gentle Shakespear's eas'er strain,
A hackney coach conveys you to,
In spite of all that rain can do:
And for your eighteen pence you sit
The lord and judge of all fresh wit.
News in one day as much we've here
As serves all Windsor for a year,
And which the carrier brings to you,
After 't has here been found not true.
Then think what company's design'd
To meet you here; men so refin'd,
Their very common talk at board,
Makes wise or mad a young court-lord,
And makes him capable to be
Umpire in's father's company.
Where no disputes, nor forc'd defence
Of a man's person for his sense,
Take up the time; all strive to be
Masters of truth, as victory:

And where you come, I'd boldly swear
A synod might as easily err.

A BALLAD,

UPON A WEDDING'.

I TELL thee, Dick, where I have been,
Where I the rarest things have seen;
Oh things without compare!
Such sights again cannot be found
In any place on English ground,
Be it at wake, or fair.

At Charing Cross, hard by the way
Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay,

There is a house with stairs;

And there did I see coming down
Such folk as are not in our town,
Vorty at least, in pairs.

Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine
(His beard no bigger though than thine)
Walk'd on before the rest:

Our landlord looks like nothing to him:
The king (God bless him) 'twould undo him,
Should he go still so drest.

At Course-a-park, without all doubt,
He should have first been taken out
By all the maids i'th' town:
Though lusty Roger there had been,
Or little George upon the green,
Or Vincent of the crown.

But wot you what? the youth was going
To make an end of all his woing;

The parson for him staid :
Yet by his leave (for all his haste)
He did not so much wish all past

(Perchance) as did the maid. The maid (and thereby hangs a tale) For such a maid no Whitson-ale

Could ever yet produce:
No grape that's kindly ripe, could be
So round, so plump, so soft as she,
Nor half so full of juyce.

Her finger was so small, the ring
Would not stay on which they did brings
It was too wide a peck :
And to say truth (for out it must)
It look'd like the great collar (just)
About our young colt's neck.
Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice, stole in and out,

As if they fear'd the light:
But oh! she dances such a way!
No sun upon an Easter day

Is half so fine a sight.

He would have kist her once or twice,
But she would not, she was so nice,
She would not do't in sight:
And then she lookt, as who should say
I will do what I list to day;

And you shall do't at night.

Her cheeks so rare a white was on,
No daisie makes comparison;

(Who sees them is undone)

For streaks of red were mingled there,
Such as are on a Cath'rine pear,

(The side that's next the Sun.)
Her lips were red; and one was thin,
Compar'd to that was next her chin;
(Some bee had stung it newly.)
But (Dick) her eyes so guard her face,
I durst no more upon them gaze,

Than on the Sun in July.

Her mouth so small, when she does speak,
Thou'd'st swear her teeth her words did break,
That they might passage get;

But she so handled still the matter,
They came as good as ours, or better,
And are not spent a whit.

If wishing should be any sin,
The parson himself had guilty been;
(She look'd that day so purely :)
And did the youth so oft the feat
At night, as some did in conceit,

It would have spoil'd him, surely.
Passion, oh me! how I run on!
There's that that would be thought upon,
I trow besides the bride.

The business of the kitchen's great,
For it is fit that men should eat,
Nor was it there denied.

Just in the nick the cook knock'd thrice, And all the waiters in a trice

His summons did obey;

Each servingman with dish in hand,
March'd boldly up like our train'd-band,
Presented, and away.

When all the meat was on the table,
What man of knife, or teeth, was able
To stay to be intreated?

And this the very reason was,
Before the parson could say grace,
The company was seated.

Now hats fly off, and youths carouse;
Healths first go round, and then the house,
The bride's came thick and thick;
And when 'twas nam'd another's health,
Perhaps he made it hers by stealth.

(And who could help it, Dick?)

O'th' suddain up they rise and dance;
Then sit again, and sigh, and glance:

Then dance again, and kiss:
Thus sev'ral ways the time did pass,
Till ev'ry woman wish'd her place,
And ev'ry man wish'd his.

By this time all were stol'n aside
To counsel and undress the bride;

But that he must not know:
But yet 'twas thought he guest her mind,
And did not mean to stay behind

Above an hour or so.

When in he came (Dick) there she lay
Like new fal'n snow melting away,

('Twas time, I trow to part:)
Kisses were now the only stay,
Which soon she gave, as who would say,
Good boy! with all my heart.

But just as Heav'ns would have to cross it,
In came the bride-maids with the posset:
The bridegroom eat in spight;
For had he left the women to't
It would have cost two hours to do't,

Which were too much that night.
At length the candle's out; and now
All that they had not done, they do!
What that is, who can tell?

But I believe it was no more
Than thou and I have done before
With Bridget, and with Nell.

My dearest rival, least our love
Should with excentric motion move,
Before it learn to go astray,
We'll teach and set it in a way,
And such directions give unto't,
That it shall never wander foot.
Know first then, we will serve as true
For one poor smile, as we would de
If we had what our higher flame,
Or our vainer wish, could frame.
Impossible shall be our hope;
And love shall only have his scope
To join with fancy now and then,
And think, what reason would condemn:

And on these grounds we'll love as true,
As if they were most sure t' ensue :
And chastly for these things we'll stay,
As if to morrow were the day.
Mean time we two will teach our hearts
In love's burdens to bear their parts:
Thou first shalt sigh, and say she's fair;
And I'll still answer, past compare.
Thou shalt set out each part o'th' face,
While I extol each little grace:
Thou shalt be ravish'd at her wit;
And I, that she so governs it:

Thou shalt like well that hand, that eye,
That lip, that look, that majesty;
And in good language them adore:
While I want words, and do it more.
Yea we will sit and sigh a while,
And with soft thoughts some time beguile;
But straight again break out, and praise
All we had done before, new ways.
Thus will we do, till paler Death
Come with a warrant for our breath.
And then whose fate shall be to die
First of us two, by legacy

Shall all his store bequeath, and give
His love to him that shall survive;
For no one stock can ever serve
To love so much as she'll deserve.

Had the three goddesses been just as fair,
It had not been so easily decided,
And sure the apple must have been divided:
It must, it must; he's impudent, dares say
Which is the handsomer, till one's away.
And it was necessary it should be so ;
Wise Nature did foresee it, and did know
When she had fram'd the eldest, that each heart
Must at the first sight feel the blind god's dart:
And sure as can be, had she made but one,
No plague had been more sure destruction;
For we had lik'd, lov'd, burnt to ashes too,
In half the time that we are choosing now:
Variety, and equal objects, make

The busie eye still doubtful which to take;
This lip, this hand, this foot, this eye, this face,
The other's body, gesture, or her grace:
And whilst we thus dispute which of the two,
We unresolv'd go out, and nothing do.
He sure happy'st that has hopes of either,
Next him is he that sees them both together.

TO HIS RIVAL.

Now we have taught our love to know
That it must creep where't cannot go,
And be for once content to live,
Since here it cannot have to thrive ;
It will not be amiss t'enquire
What fuel should maintain this fire:
For fires do either flame too high,
Or where they cannot flame, they die.
First then (my half but better heart)
Know this must wholly be her part;
(For thou and I, like clocks, are wound
Up to the height, and must move round)
She then, by still denying what
We fondly crave, shall such a rate
Set on each trifle, that a kiss
Shall come to be the utmost bliss.

Where sparks and fire do meet with tinder,
Those sparks meer fire will still engender:
To make this good, no debt shall be
From service or fidelity;

For she shall ever pay that score,
By only bidding us do more
So (though she still a niggard be)
In gracing, where none's due, she's free.
The favours she shall cast on us,
(Lest we should grow presumptuous)
Shall not with too much love be shown,
Nor yet the common way still done;
But ev'ry smile and little glance
Shall look half lent, and half by chance:
The ribbon, fan, or muff, that she
Would should be kept by thee or me,
Should not be giv'n before too many,
But neither thrown to's when there's any;
So that her selfe should doubtful be
Whether 'twere Fortune flung 't, or she.
She shall not like the thing we do
Sometimes, and yet shall like it too;
Nor any notice take at all

Of what, we gone, she would extol:
Love she shall feed, but fear to nourish;
For where fear is, love cannot flourish;
Yet live it must, nay must and shall,
While Desdemona is at all:

But when she's gone, then love shall die, And in her grave buried lie.

FAREWELL TO LOVE.
WELL-Shadow'd landscape, fare-ye-well:
How I have lov'd you, none can tell;
At least so well

As he that now hates more
Than e're he lov'd before.

But my dear nothings, take your leave,
No longer must you me deceive,
Since I perceive

All the deceit, and know
Whence the mistake did grow.

As he whose quicker eye doth trace
A false star shot to a mark'd place,
Does run apace,
And thinking it to catch,
A gelly up does snatch:

So our dull souls tasting delight
Far off, by sense and appetite,

Think that is right
And real good; when yet
"Tis but the counterfeit.

Oh how I glory now! that I
Have made this new discovery!
Each wanton eye
Enflam'd before: no more
Will I increase that score.

If I gaze now, 'tis but to see
What manner of death's-head 'twill be,
When it is free

From that fresh upper skin;
The gazer's joy, and sin.

The gum and glist'ning, which with art
And study'd method, in each part
Hangs down the heart,
Looks (just) as if, that day
Snails there had crawl'd the hay.

The locks, that curl'd o'er each ear be,
Hang like two master-worms to me,
That (as we see)

Have tasted to the rest

Two holes, where they lik'd best.

A quick corse methinks I spy
In ev'ry woman; and mine eye,
At passing by,
Checks, and is troubled, just
As if it rose from dust.

They mortifie, not heighten me:
These of my sins the glasses be:
And here I see

How I have lov'd before,
And so I love no more.

THE INVOCATION.

Ye juster powers of love and fate,

Give me the reason why

A lover crost,

And all hopes lost,

May not have leave to die.

It is but just, and love needs must
Confess it is his part,

When he does spie
One wounded lie,

To pierce the other's heart.

But yet if he so cruel be

To have one breast to hate;
If I must live,

And thus survive,

How far more cruel's fate?

In this same state I find too late
I am; and here's the grief.

Cupid can cure,

Death heal, I'm sure,
Yet neither sends relief.

To live, or die, beg only I,
Just powers, some and me give;
And traitour-like,
Thus force me not
Without a heart to live

SIR J. S.

Our upon it, I have lov'd

Three whole days together; And am like to love three more, If it prove fair weather.

Time shall moult away his wings,
E'er he shall discover

In the whole wide world again
Such a constant lover.

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 e'er this

A dozen dozen in her place.

SIR TOBY MATHEWS1. SAY, but did you love so long? In truth I needs must blame you : Passion did your judgment wrong; Or want of reason shame you. But Time's fair and witty daughter Shortly shall discover, Y'are a subject fit for laughter, And more fool than lover. But I grant you merit praise For your constant folly: Since you doted three whole days, Were you not melancholy? She to whom you prov'd so true, And that very very face, Puts each minute such as you A dozen dozen to disgrace.

LOVE TURNED TO HATRED. I WILL not love one minute more, I swear, No not a minute; not a sigh or tear Thou gett'st from me, or one kind look again, Tho' thou shoud'st court me to't, and woud'st begin.

I will not think of thee, but as men do

Of debts and sins, and then I'll curse thee too:
For thy sake woman shall be now to me
Less welcome, than at midnight ghosts shall be:
I'll hate so perfectly, that it shall be
Treason to love that man that loves a she;
Nay, I will hate the very good, I swear,
That's in thy sex, because it does lie there;
Their very virtue, grace, discourse and wit,
And all for thee; what, wilt thou love me yet?

THE CARELESS LOVER.

NEVER believe me if I love,

Or know what 'tis, or mean to prove;
And yet in faith I lye, I do,

And she's extremely handsome too;

She's fair, she's wond'rous fair,

But I care not who knows it,

E'er I'll die for love, I fairly will forgo it.

This heat of hope, or cold of fear,
My foolish heat could never bear:
One sigh imprison'd ruins more
Than earthquakes have done heretofore:
She's fair, &c.

When I am hungry I do eat,
And cut no fingers 'stead of meat,
Nor with much gazing on her face,
Do e'er rise hungry from the place:
She's fair, &c.

A gentle round fill'd to the brink,
To this and t' other friend I drink;
And if 'tis nam'd another's health,
I never make it hers by stealth:
She's fair, &c.

1 Son of the Archbishop of York. Suckling introduces him in the Session of Poets. C

Black Friars to me, and old Whitehall,
Is even as much as is the fall
Of fountains on a pathless grove,
And nourishes as much my love:
She's fair, &c.

I visit, talk, do business, play,
And for a need laugh out a day :
Who does not thus in Cupid's school,
He makes not love, but plays the fool:
She's fair, &c.

LOVE AND DEBT ALIKE TROUBLESOME.

THIS One request I make to him that sits the clouds

above,

our rest;

and common;

mad.

That I were freely out of debt, as I am out of love; Then for to dance, to drink and sing, I shou'd be very willing; [a shilling. I should not owe one lass a kiss, nor ne'er a knave 'Tis only being in love and debt, that breaks us of [is blest: And he that is quite out of both, of all the world He sees the golden age wherein all things were free [man nor woman. He eats, he drinks, he takes his rest, he fears no Tho Croesus compassed great wealth, yet he still craved more, [to door. He was as needy a beggar still, as goes from door Tho' Ovid was a merry man, love ever kept him sad; He was as far from happiness, as one that is stark [and treasure; Our merchant he in goods is rich, and full of gold But when he thinks upon his debts, that thought destroys his pleasure. [man envies; Our courtier thinks that he's preferr'd, whom every When love so rumbles in his pate, no sleep comes in his eyes. [betwixt them; Our gallant's case is worst of all, he lies so just For he's in love, and he's in debt, and knows not which most vex him. [is so brown, But he that can eat beef, and feed on bread which May satisfie his appetite, and owe no man a crown: And he that is content with lasses cloathed in plain woollen, [be sullen, May cool his heat in every place, he need not to Nor sigh for love of lady fair; for this each wise man knows, [cloaths. As good stuff under flannel lies, as under silken

SONG.

I PRYTHEE Send me back my heart,

Since I cannot have thine:
For if from yours you will not part,
Why then shou'd'st thou have mine?

Yet now I think on't, let it lie;
To find it, were in vain:

For thou'st a thief in either eye
Wou'd steal it back again.

Why should two hearts in one breast lie,
And yet not lodge together?

Oh 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 resolv'd,

I then am in most doubt.

Then farewel care, and farewel wo,
I will no longer pine:

For I'll believe I have her heart,
As much as she has mine.

TO A LADY THAT FORBAD TO LOVE
BEFORE COMPANY.

WHAT! no more favours, not a ribbon more,
Not fan, not muff, to hold as heretofore?
Must all the little blisses then be left,
And what was once love's gift, become our theft?
May we not look our selves into a trance,
Teach our souls parley at our eyes, not glance,
Not touch the hand, not by soft wringing there,
Whisper a love, that only yes can hear?
Not free a sigh, a sigh that's there for you,
Dear, must I love you, and not love you too?
Be wise, nice fair: for sooner shall they trace
The feather'd choristers from place to place,
By prints they make in th' air, and sooner say
By what right line the last star made his way
That fled from Heav'n to Earth, than guess to know
How our loves first did spring, or how they grow.
Love is all spirit: Fairies sooner may
Be taken tardy, when they night-tricks play,
Than we; we are too dull and lumpish rather:
Would they cou'd find us both in bed together.

THE GUILTLESS INCONSTANT.

My first love, whom all beauties did adorn,
Firing my heart, supprest it with her scorn,
Since like the tinder in my breast it lies,
By every sparkle made a sacrifice,
Each wanton eye can kindle my desire,
And that is free to all which was entire;
Desiring more by the desire I lost,
As those that in consumptions linger most.
And now my wand'ring thoughts are not confin'd
Unto one woman, but to woman kind:
This for her shape I love, that for her face;
This for her gesture, or some other grace:
And where that none of all these things I find,
I choose her by the kernel, not the rhind:
And so I hope, since my first hope is gone,
To find in many what I lost in one;
And like to merchants after some great loss,
Trade by retail, that cannot do in gross.
The fault is hers that made me go astray;
He needs must wander that has lost his way:
Guiltless I am; she does this change provoke,
And made that charcoal, which to her was oak.
And as a looking-glass from the aspect,
Whilst it is whole, does but one face reflect,
But being crackt or broken, there are grown
Many less faces, where there was but one:
So love unto my heart did first prefer
Her image, and there placed none but her;
But since 'twas broke and martyr'd by her scorn,
Many less faces in her place are born.