And the divine Impreffion of ftol'n Kiffes,
That seal'd the reft, could now prove empty Bliffes ?
Did you draw Bonds to forfeit fign to break?
Or muft we read you quite from what you fpeak,
And find the Truth out the wrong way? or must
He first defire you falfe, would wish you juft?
O, I profane Though most of Women be
The common Monfter, Love, fhall except thee,
My dearest Love, however Jealoufie
With Circumftance might urge the contrary.
Sooner Fll think the Sun would ceafe to chear
The teeming Earth, and that forget to bear;
Sooner that Rivers would run back, or Thames
With Ribs of Ice in June would bind his Streams:
Or Nature, by whofe ftrength the World endures,
Would change her Courfe, before you alter yours.
But, O that treacherous Breaft, to whom weak you
Did truft our Counfels, and we both may rue,
Having his Falfhood found too late! 'twas he
That made me caft you guilty, and you me.
Whilft he, black Wretch, betray'd each fimple Word
We fpake unto the coming of a third!

Curft may he be that fo our Love hath flain,
And wander wretched on the Earth, as Cain:
Wretched as he, and not deserve least pity:
In plaguing him, let Mifery be witty.

Let all Eyes fhun him, and he fhun each Eye,
Till he be noifom as his Infamy :

May he without remorfe deny God thrice,
And not be trufted more on his Soul's price:
And after all felf-torment, when he dies,

May Wolves tear out his Heart, Vultures his Eyes,
Swine cat his Bowels, and his falfer Tongue,
That utter'd all, be to fome Raven flung :
And let his Carrion Coarfe be a longer Feaft
To the King's Dogs, than any other Beaft.
Now I have curft, let us our Love revive;
In me the Flame was never more alive.

I could begin again to court and praise,
And in that Pleasure lengthen the short days
Of my Life's Leafe; like Painters that do take
Delight, not in made Works, but whilft they make.
I could renew those Times, when firft I faw

Love in your Eyes, that gave my Tongue the Law
To like what you lik'd, and at Masks, or Plays,
Commend the felf-fame Actors, the fame Ways,
Ask how you did, and often with intent
Of being officious, grow impertinent;

All which were fuch loft Paftimes, as in these
Love was as fubtly catch'd as a Disease.
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 'tis got by Chance, 'tis kept by Art.

LEGES CONVIVALES. Quod fœlix fauftumque Convivis in Apolline fit. By BEN. JOHNSON.

I

2

NE

́Emo Àsymbolus, nifi Umbra, huc venito. Idiota, Infulfus, Triftis, Turpis, abefto. 3 Eruditi, Urbani, Hilares, Honefti, adfcifcuntor. 4 Nec lecta Fomina repudiantor.

s In Apparatu quod Convivis corruget Nares nil efto. 6 Epula delectu potius quam fumptu parentur.

7 Obfenator & coquus convivarum Gula periti funto. 8 De Difcubitu non contenditor.

9 Miniftri, à Dapibus oculati & muti,

A Poculis auriti & celeres funto.

Io Vina puris fontibus miniftrentur, aut vapulet Hofpes. II Moderatis poculis provocare fodales fas efto.

12 At Fabulis magis quam Vino velitatio fiat.

13 Conviva nec muti nec loquaces funto.

14 De feriis ac facris Poti & Saturi ne differunto. Is Fidicen, nifi accerfitus, non venito.

16 Admiffo Rifu, Tripudiis, Choreis, Cantu, Salibus, Omni Gratiarum feftivitate facra celebrantor.

17 Joci fine felle funto.

18 Infipida poemata nulla recitantor.

19 Verfus fcribere nullus cogitor.

20 Argumentationis totus Strepitus abefto.

21 Amatoriis querelis, ae fufpiriis liber Angulus after 22 Lapitharum more Scyphis pugnare, Vitrea collidere,

Feneftras excutere, fupellectilem dilacerare, nefas eftoi 23 Qui foras vel dicta vel falta Eliminat, Eliminator. 24 Neminem reum Pocula faciunto.

Focus perennis efto.

RULES for the Tavern Academy, &c.

By BEN. JOHNSON.

I.

[shot,

S the Fund of our Pleafure, let each pay his Except fome chance Friend whom a Member brings in.

2 Far hence be the Sad, the Lewd Fop and the Sot, For fuch have the Plagues of good Company been.

II.

3 Let the Learned and Witty, the Jovial and Gay. The Generous and Honest Compose our free State; 4 And the more to exalt our Delight whilst we stay, Let none be debarr'd from his choice Female [Mate.

III.

Let no Scent offenfive the Chamber infeft.
6 Let Fancy, not Coft, prepare all our Dishes.

Let the Caterer mind the tafte of each Guest,
And the Cook in his Dreffing comply with their
Wishes.

H 3

IV.

8 Let's have no disturbance about taking Places,
To fhew your nice Breeding, or out of vain Pride.
9 Let the Drawers be ready with Wine and freth
[must be ty'd.

Glaffes;
Let the Waiters have Eyes, tho' their Tongues

V.

zo Let ourWines without mixture,or Stum, be all fine, Or call up the Mafter, and break his dull Noddle. 11 Let no fober Bigot here think it a Sin,

To push on the chirping and moderate Bottle..

VI.

12 Let the Contests be rather of Books than of Wine. 13 Let the Company be neither noifie nor mutę.. 14 Let none of things Serious, much lefs of Divine, When Belly and Head's full, prophanely difpute. VII.

15 Let no fawcy Fidler prefume to intrude, Unless he is fent for to vary our Blifs.

16 With Mirth, Wit, and Dancing and Singing conclude, To regale ev'ry Senfe, with Delight in excess. VIII.

17 Let Raillery be without Malice or Heat. 18 Dull Poems to read let none privilege take. I 19 Let no Poetafter command or intreat

Another Extempore Verfes to make.

IX.

20 Let Argument bear no unmufical found, Nor Jars interpofe facred Friendship to grieve. 21 For Generous Lovers let a Corner be found, Where they in foftSighs may their Paffions relieve.

X.

~22 Like the old Lapithites, with the Goblets to fight, Our own 'mongft Offences unpardon'd will rank;

Or breaking of Windows, or Glasses for spight,
And spoiling the Goods for a Rakehelly Prank,

XI.

23. Whoever shall publish what's faid or what's done, Be he banish'd for ever our Affembly Divine. 24 Let the freedom we take be perverted by none, To make any guilty by drinking good Wine.

Over the Door at the Entrance into the APOLLO.

W

By BEN. JOHNSON.

Elcome all that lead or follow,
To the Oracle of Apollo-
Here he speaks out of his Pottle,
Or the Tripos, his Tower Bottle:
All his Answers are Divine,
Truth it felf doth flow in Wine.
Hang up all the poor Hop-Drinkers,
Cries Old Sym the King of Skinkers 3
He the half of Life abuses,

That fits watering with the Muses.

Those dull Girls no good can mean us,

Wine it is the Milk of Venus,

And the Poet's Horfe accounted:

Ply it and you all are mounted.
'Tis the true Phœbeian Liquor,

Chears the Brains, makes Wit the quicker..
Pays all Debts, cures all Diseases,
And at once three Senfes pleafes.
Welcome all that lead or follow,
To the Oracle of Apollo.