Volume 1 — APPENDIX C. A SELECTION OF POEMS WHICH FREQUENTLY ACCOMPANY POEMS BY JOHN DONNE IN MANUSCRIPT COLLECTIONS OR HAVE BEEN ASCRIBED TO DONNE BY MODERN EDITORS.

SINCE ev'ry Tree beginns to blossome now Perfuminge and enamelinge each bow, Hartes should as well as they, some fruits allow. For since one old poore sunn serves all the rest, 5You sev'rall sunns that warme, and light each brest Doe by that influence all your thoughts digest. And that you two may soe your vertues move, On better matter then beames from above, Thus our twin'd souls send forth these buds of love. 10As in devotions men Joyne both there hands, Wee make ours doe one Act to seale the bands, By which we enthrall ourselves to your commands, And each for others faith and zeale stand bound: As safe as spirits are from any wound, 15Soe free from impure thoughts they shal be found. Admit our magique then by which wee doe Make you appeere to us, and us to you, Supplying all the Muses in you twoe. Wee doe consider noe flower that is sweet, 20But wee your breath in that exhaling meet, And as true types of you, them humbly greet. Heere in our Nightingales we heere you singe Who soe doe make the whole yeare through a springe, And save us from the feare of Autumns stinge. 25In Anchors calme face wee your smoothnes see, Your mindes unmingled, and as cleare as shee That keepes untoucht her first virginitie. Did all St. Edith nunns descend againe To honor Polesworth with their cloystred traine, 30Compar'd with you each would confesse some stayne. Or should wee more bleed out our thoughts in inke, Noe paper (though it woulde be glad to drinke Those drops) could comprehend what wee doe thinke. For t'were in us ambition to write 35Soe, that because wee two, you two unite, Our letter should as you, bee infinite.

O FRUTEFULL garden, and yet never tilde, Box full of Treasure yet by noe man filde. O thou which haste, made him that first made thee; O neare of kinne to all the Trinetie; 5O Pallace where the kinge of all, and more; Went in, and out, yet never opened doore; Whose flesh is purer, than an others sperrit Reache him our Prayers, and reach us down his merrit; O bread of lyfe which sweld'ste up without Leaven; 10O bridge which joynst togeather earth and heaven; Whose eyes see me through these walles, and throughe glasse, And through this fleshe as thorowe Cipres passe. Behould a little harte made greate by thee Swellinge, yet shrinkinge at thy majestie. 15O dwell in it, for where soe ere thou go'ste There is the Temple of the Holy Ghoste.

FYE, Fye you sonnes of Pallas what madd rage Makes you contend that Love's, or God, or page? Hee that admires, his weaknes doth confess; For as Love greater growes; soe hee growes less. 5Hee that disdaines, what honor wynns thereby, That he feeles not, or triumphes on a fly? If love with queasie paine thy stomack move, Soe will a slutt whome none dare touch; or love. If it with sacred straines doe thee inspire 10Of Poetrie; soe wee maye want admire. If it thee valiant make, his ryvall hate Can out doe that and make men desperate. Yealdinge to us, all woemen conquer us, By gentlenes we are betrayed thus. 15We will not strive with Love that's a shee beaste; But playinge wee are bounde, and yeald in Jest; As in a Cobwebb toyle, a flye hath beene Undone; so have I some fainte lover seene. Love cannot take away our strength, but tame, 20And wee less feele the thinge then feare the name; Love is a temperate bath; hee that feeles more Heate or could there, was hott, or could before. But as Suñ beames which would but norishe, burne, Drawne into hollow Christall, soe we turne 25To fire her bewties Lustre willingly, By gatheringe it in our false treacherous eye. Love is nor you, nor you; but I a balme, Sword to the stiff, unto the wounded balme. Prayes noe thinge adds, if it be infinite, 30If it be nothing, who can lessen it?

WHY chose shee black; was it that in whitenes Shee did Leda equal? whose brightnes Must suffer loss to put a bewtie on Which hath no grace but from proportion. 5It is but Coullor, which to loose is gayne, For shee in black doth th'Æthiopian staine, Beinge the forme that beautifies the creature Her rareness not in Coullor is; but feature. Black on her receaves soe strong a grace 10It seemes the fittest beautie for the face. Coullor is not, but in æstimation Faire, or foule, as it is stild by fashion. Kinges wearinge sackcloath it doth royall make; Soe black〈ne〉s from her face doth beautie take. 15It not in Coullor but in her, inheres, For what she is, is faire, not what she weares; The Moore shalle envye her, as much, or more, As did the Ladies of our Court before. The Sunn shall mourne that hee had westwarde beene, 20To seeke his Love; whilst shee i'th North was seene. Her blacknes lends like lustre to her eyes, As in the night pale Phoebe glorifyes. Hell, synne, and vice their attributes shall loose Of black, for it wan, and pale whitenes choose, 25As like themselves, Common, and most in use: Sad of that Coulor is the late abuse.

THIS lyfe it is not life, it is a sight That wee have of y^e earth, y^e earth of vs; It is a feild, where sence & reason fight, The soules & bodies quarrells to discus; 5It is a iorney where wee do not goe, but fly w^th speedy wings t'our blisse or woe. It is a chaine y^t hath but two smale links Where〈with〉 o^r graue is to o^r bodie ioyned; It is a poysned feast wherein who thinks 10To tast ioyes cup, y^e cup of death doth find. It is a play, presented in heauens eye Wherein o^r parts are to do naught but dye.

MY love doth fly w^th wings of feare And doth a flame of fire resemble, w^ch mounting high & burning cleere yet ever more doth wane & tremble. 5My loue doth see & still admire, Admiring breedeth humblenes; blind loue is bold, but my desire the more it loues p^resumes y^e lesse. My loue seekes no reward or glory 10but w^th it self it self contenteth, is never sullaine, never sory, never repyneth or repenteth. O'who the sunne beames can behold but hath some passion, feeles some heat, 15for though the sunn himself be cold his beames reflecting fire begett. O y^t myne eyes, ô that myne hart Were both enlarged to contayne the beames & ioyes shee doth impart, 20whilst shee this bowre doth not disdayne; this bowre vnfit for such a gueste, but since she makes it now her Inn, Would god twere like her sacred breast most fayre w^thout, most rich w^thin.

O Eyes, what do you see? O eares what do you heare? that makes y^o wish to bee All eyes or else all eare? 5I see a face as fayre As mans eye ever saw, I here as sweet an ayre as y^t w^ch rocks did draw, I wish, when in such wise 10I see or heare y^e same, I had all Argus eyes or else y^e eare〈s〉 of fame.

Cui, quot sunt corpore plumae, Tot vigiles oculi subter, mirabile dictu, Tot linguae, totidem ora sonant, tot subrigit auris. Virgil: Aen. iv. 181-3.

C ÕMEND her? no. I dare not terme her fayre, nor sugred sweet, nor tall, nor louely browne; suffice it y^t she is w^thout compare; but how, I dare not tell lest she should frowne. 5but those parts 〈least〉 w^ch others make theyre pryde, and feed there fancies w^th devised lyes; giue me but leaue to pull my saint asyde, and tell her in her eare that she is wise. to write of beauties rare ther is noe art, 10for why tis common to there sex & kind, but making choice of natures better part my Muse doth most desire to prayse her mind. But as her vertue〈s〉 clayme a crowne of bayes, So manners makes me sylent in her prayse.

THOSE drossy heads & irrepurged braynes w^ch sacred fyre of loue hath not refined may grossly think my loue smale worth contaynes because shee is of body smale combined. 5Not diving to y^e depth of natures reach, W^ch on smale things doth greatest guifts bestow: small gems & pearls do witt more truly teach W^ch little are yet great in vertue grow, of flowers most part y^e least wee sweetest see, 10of creatures having life & sence y^e annt is smalst, yet great her guifts & vertues bee, frugall & provident for feare of want. Wherfore who sees not natures full intent? she made her smale to make her excellent.

I THAT y^e higher half of loues Round Zodiake haue rune, And in the signe of crabbed chaunce My Tropick haue begun, 5Am taught to teach y^e man is blest Whose loues lott lights so badd, as his solstitium soonest makes And so growes Retrograde.

WHEN fortune, loue, and Tyme bad me be happie, Happy I was by fortune, loue, and tyme. These powres at highest then began to vary, and cast him downe whome they had caus'd to clyme; 5They prun'd theire wings, and tooke theire flight in rage; fortune to fooles, loue to gold, and tyme to age. Fooles, gold, and age, (o foolish golden age!) Witt, fayth, and loue must begg, must brybe, must dy; These are the actors and the world's the stage, 10Desert and hope are as but standers by: True lovers sit and tune this restlesse song; Fortune, loue, and tyme haue done me wrong.

WHAT is o^r life? a play of passion. o^r mirth? the musick of diuision. O^r mothers wombs the tyring houses bee Where we are drest for liues short comedy. 5The earth the stage, heauen y^e spectator is, Who still doth note who ere do act amisse. O^r graues that hyde vs, frõ the all-seeing suñ, Are but drawne curtaynes whẽ the play is done.

O WHAT a blisse is this? heaven is effected and loues eternity contracted 5In one short kisse. For not tymes measure makes pleasure more full, tedious and dull 10all ioyes are thought y^t are not in an instant wrought. Cupi〈d〉s blest and highest spheare is heare. heere on his throne 15in his bright imperial crowne hee sitts. Those witts That thinke to proue that mortals know 20in any place below a blisse so great so sweet Are heretiques in loue. These pleasures high 25now dye, but still beginning new & greater glory wiñing gett fresh supply. No short breath'd panting 30nor faynting is heere, fuller and freer more pleasinge is this pleasure still, & none but this. 35Heer'es no blush nor labor great, no sweat; Heres no payne nor repentance when againe Loue cooles. 40O fooles That fondly glory in base condition of sensual fruition, you do mistake 45& make y^r heaven purgatory.

TELL me who can when a player dies In w^ch of his shapes againe hee shall rise? What need hee stand at the iudgment throne Who hath a heaven and a hell of his owne. 5Then feare not Burbage heavens angry rodd, When thy fellows are angells & old Hemmĩgs is God.

LOE now hee shineth yonder A fixed starr in heaven, Whose motion is vnder None of the planetts seaven; 5And if the soñ should tender The moone his loue and marry, They never could engender So fayre a starr as Harry.

NATURE amaz'd sawe man without mans ayde Borne of a mother nursed by her a mayd, The child the Parent was, the worke the word, No word till then did such a worke affoord. 5Twas lesse from nothing the world's all to growe Then all-Creato^rs height to stoope so lowe. A virgin mother to a child bredd wonder, T'was more a child should bee the God of thunder. Th'omnipotent was strangely potent heere 10To make the powerfull God pearelesse appeare. Hee in our body cladd, for our soules love Came downe to us, yet stay'd vnchanged above. Yet God through man shind still in this cleere brooke, Through meane shewes into maiesty wee looke. 15Sinnes price seemd payd with brasse, fewe sawe the gold, Yet true stones set in lead theyr lustre hold. His birth though poore, Prophets foretold his story, Hee breathd with beasts, but Angels sung his glory. Hee, so farr of, so weake, yet Herod quakes, 20The citty dreads, babes, murderd, feare mistakes. His Circumcision bore sinne, payne, and shame, Young bloud new budd, hence bloomd a sauiours name. His paynes and passion bredd compassion, wonder; Earth trembling, heavens darke, rocks rent asunder. 25His birth, life, death, his words, his workes, his face Shewd a rich Jewell shining through the case, Cast thus, since man at gods high presence trembles. Heere man mans troth loves whome his sheepe resembles. The bright Sunne beame a sickly eye may dim̃e, 30A little babe in shallow heart may swim̃. Hee heavens wealth to a poore stable brings, Th'oxestall the Court unto the king of kings. No Shadowes now nor lightning flames give terro^r. This light tells with our tongue, and beares o^r erro^r. 35Pure infant teares, moist pearle adornd his cheeke, Assignd, ere borne, our erring soules to seeke. Hee first wept teares, then bloud, a deare redemption; This bought what Adam sould, that seemd preemption. Cleare droppe, deare seede, the corne had bloudy eares, 40Rich harvest reapd in bloud and sowne in teares. Who this Corne in theyr hart nor thresh, nor lay, Breake for sinnes debt, unthrifty never pay. Use wealth, it wastes, a stayd hand heapes the store, But this the more wee use wee have the more; 45Use, not like usury whose growth is lending, Rich thoughts this treasure keepe and thrive by spending; Th'expense runnes circular, turning returning, Such love no hart consumes, yet ever burning.

C HAST Love, let mee embrace thee in mine armes Without the thought of lust. From thence no harmes Ensue, no discontent attende those deeds So innocently good w^ch thy love breeds. 5Th'approche of day brings to thy sence no feares, Nor is the black nights worke washd in thy teares; Thou takst no care to keepe thy lover true, Nor yet by flighte, nor fond inventions new To hold him in, who with like flame of love 10Must move his spirit too, as thine doth move; w^ch ever mounts aloft with golden wings And not declines to lowe despised things. Thy soule is bodyd within thy quiet brest In safety, free from trouble and unrest. 15Thou fearst no ill because thou dost no ill, Like mistress of thy selfe, thy thought, and will, Obey thy mind, a mind for ever such As all may prayse, but none admire too much. Then come, Chast Love, choyse part of womankind 20Infuse chast thoughts into my loving mind.

C RUELL since that thou dost not feare the curse W^ch thy disdayne, and my despayre procure, My prayer for thee shall torment thee worse Then all the payne thou coudst thereby endure. 5May, then, that beauty w^ch I did conceave In thee above the height of heavens course, When first my Liberty thou didst bereave, Bee doubled on thee and with doubled force. Chayne thousand vassalls in like thrall with mee, 10W^ch in thy glory mayst thou still despise, As the poore Trophyes of that victory Which thou hast onely purchasd by thine eyes; And when thy Triumphs so extended are That there is nought left to bee conquered, 15Mayst thou with the great Monarchs mournfull care Weepe that thine Hono^rs are so limited; So thy disdayne may melt it selfe to love By an unlookd for and a wondrous change, W^ch to thy selfe above the rest must prove 20In all th'effects of love paynefully strange, While wee thy scorned subjects live to see Thee love the whole world, none of it love thee.

WONDER of Beautie, Goddesse of my sense, You that have taught my soule to love aright, You in whose limbes are natures chief expense Fitt instrument to serve your matchless spright, 5If ever you have felt the miserie Of being banish'd from your best desier, By Absence, Time, or Fortunes tyranny, Sterving for cold, and yet denied for fier: Deare mistresse pittie then the like effects 10The which in mee your absence makes to flowe, And haste their ebb by your divine aspect In which the pleasure of my life doth growe: Stay not so long for though it seem a wonder You keepe my bodie and my soule asunder.

FAIRE eies do not think scorne to read of Love That to your eies durst never it presume, Since absence those sweet wonders do〈th〉 remove That nourish thoughts, yet sence and wordes consume; 5This makes my pen more hardy then my tongue, Free from my feare yet feeling my desire, To utter that I have conceal'd so long By doing what you did yourself require. Believe not him whom Love hath left so wise 10As to have power his owne tale for to tell, For childrens greefes do yield the loudest cries, And cold desires may be expressed well: In well told Love most often falsehood lies, But pittie him that only sighes and dies.

LOVE if a god thou art then evermore thou must Bee mercifull and just; If thou bee just, ô wherefore doth thy dart 5Wound mine alone and not my mistresse hart? If mercifull, then why Am I to payne reservd Who have thee truely serv'd, When shee that by thy powre sets not a fly 10Laughs thee to scorne and lives at liberty? Then if a God thou woulds accounted bee, Heale mee like her, or else wound her like mee.

G REATE Lord of love, how busy still thou art To give new wounds and fetters to my hart! Is't not enough that thou didst twice before It so mangle 5And intangle By sly arts of false harts. Forbeare mee, Ile make love no more. Fy busy Lord, will it not thee suffice 10To use the Rhetorique of her tongue and eyes When I am waking, but that absent so They invade mee To perswade mee, When that sleepe 15Oft should keepe And lock out every sence of woe. If thou perswade mee thus to speake, I dye And shee the murdresse, for me will deny; And if for silence I bee prest, Her good 20Yet I cherish Though I perish, For that shee Shall bee free From that foule guilt of spilling bloud.

1. T O sue for all thy Love, and thy whole hart were madnesse. I doe not sue, nor can admitt, (Fayrest) from yo^u to have all yet; 5 Who giveth all, hath nothing to impart But sadnesse. 2. Hee who receaveth all can have no more, Then seeing. My love by length of every howre 10Gathers new strength, new growth, new power: You must have dayly new rewards in store Still beeing. 3. You cannot every day give mee yo^r hart For merit; 15Yet if you will, when yours doth goe You shall have still one to bestow, For you shall mine, when yours doth part, Inherit. 4. Yet if you please weele find a better way 20 Then change them, For so alone (dearest) wee shall Bee one and one another all; Let us so joyne our harts, that nothing may Estrange them.

NOW y'have killd mee with yo^r scorne Who shall live to call yo^u fayre? What new foole must now bee borne To prepare 5Dayly sacrifice of service new, Teares too good for woemen true? Who shall sorrow when yo^u crye And to please yo^u dayly dye? Men succeeding shall beware 10And woemen cruell, no more fayre.

Now y'have killd mee, never looke Any left to call yo^u trewe; Who more madd must now bee tooke To renewe 15My oblations dayly, lost? Vowes too good for woemen chast! Who shall call yo^u sweete, and sweare T'is yo^r face renews the yeare? Men by my Death shall beleeve, 20And woemen cruell yet shall greeve.

LOVE bred of Glances twixt amorous eyes Like Childrens fancies, sone borne, sone dyes. Guilte, Bitternes, and smilinge woe Doth ofte deceaue poore lovers soe, 5As the fonde Sence th'unwary soule deceives With deadly poison wrapt in Lily leaves. But harts so chain'd as Goodnes stands With truthe unstain'd to couple hands, Love beinge to all beauty blinde 10Save the cleere beauties of the minde, There heaven is pleasd, continuall blessings sheddinge, Angells are guests and dance at this blest weddinge.

G OE and Count her better howers. For they are happier than oures. The day that gives her any bliss, Make it as long againe as 'tis. 5The hower shee smyles in, lett it bee By thy acte multiplyde to three. But if shee frowne on thee or mee, Know night is made by her, not thee; Be swifte in such an hower & soone, 10See thou make night, ere it be noone. Obey her tymes, whoe is the free Faire Sunne that governes thee & mee.

WHERFORE peepst thou, envious daye? We can kisse without thee. Lovers hate the golden raye, Which thou bearst about thee. 5Goe and give them light that sorowe Or the saylor flyinge: Our imbraces need noe morowe Nor our blisses eying. We shall curse thy curyous eye 10For thy soone betrayinge, And condemn thee for a spye Yf thou catch us playinge. Gett thee gone and lend thy flashes Where there's need of lendinge, 15Our affections are not ashes Nor our pleasures endinge. Weare we cold or withered heare We would stay thee by us, Or but one anothers feare 20Then thou shouldst not flye us. Wee are yongue, thou spoilst our pleasure; Goe to sea and slumber, Darknes only gives us leasure Our stolne joyes to number.

G REATE and goode if she deryde mee Let me walke Ile not despayre, Ere to morrowe Ile provide mee One as greate, lesse prowd, more faire. 5They that seeke Love to constraine Have theire labour for their paine. They that strongly can importune And will never yeild nor tyre, Gaine the paye in spight of Fortune 10But such game Ile not desyre. Where the prize is shame or synn, Wynners loose and loosers wynn. Looke upon the faythfull lover, Griefe stands paynted in his face, 15Groanes, and Teares and sighs discover That they are his onely grace: Hee must weepe as children doe That will in the fashion wooe. I whoe flie these idle fancies 20Which my dearest rest betraye, Warnd by others harmfull chances, Vse my freedome as I may. When all the worlde says what it cann 'Tis but—Fie, vnconstant mann!

WHAT if I come to my mistris bedd The candles all ecclipst from shyninge, Shall I then attempt for her mayden-head Or showe my selfe a coward by declyninge? 5Oh noe Fie doe not soe, For thus much I knowe by devyninge, Blynd is Love The dark it doth approve, 10To pray on pleasures pantinge; What needeth light For Cupid in the night, If jealous eyes be wantinge. Fortune never failes, if she badd take place, 15To shroude all the faire proceedings: Love and she though blynd, yet each other embrace, To favor all their servants meetings: Venture I say To sport and to play, 20If in place all be fitting; Though she say fie Yet doth she not denie: For fie is but a word of tryall: Jealosie doth sleepe, 25Then doe not weepe At force of a faynt denyall. Glorious is my love, with tryumphs in her face, Then to to bould were I to venter: Who loves deserves to live in a princes grace, 30Why stand you then affraid to enter? Lights are all out Then make noe doubt A lover bouldly maye take chusinge. Bewtie is a baite 35For a princely mate. Fy, why stand you then a musinge? You'll repent too late If she doe you hate, For loves delight refusinge.

1. B ELEEVE yo^r Glasse, and if it tell you (Deare) Yo^r Eyes inshrine A brighter shine Then faire Apollo, looke if theere appeare 5The milkie skye The Crimson dye Mixt in your cheeks, and then bid Phoebus sett, More Glory then hee owes appears. But yet 2. Be not deceived with fond Alteration 10. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . As Cynthias Globe, A snow white robe 15 Is soonest spotled, a Carnation dye Fades, and discolours open'd but to Eie. 3. Make use of youth, and bewty whilest they flourish: Tyme never sleepes, Though it but creeps 20 It still gets forward. Do not vainly nourish Them to selfe-use, It is Abuse; The richest Grownds lying wast turne Boggs and rott, And soe beinge useles, were as good were not. 254. Walke in a meddowe by a Rivers side, Upon whose Bancks Grow milk-white Ranks Of full blown Lyllies in their height of Pryde, Which downward bend 30And nothing tend Save their owne Bewties in the Glassie streame: Looke to yo^r selfe: Compare yo^rselfe to them. 5. In show, in bewtie, marke what followes then: Sommer must end, 35The sunn must bend His Longe Absented beames to others: then Their spring being crost By wynters frost And sneap'd by bytter storms against w^ch nought boots, 40They bend their prowd topps lower then their roots. 6. Then none regard them; but w^th heedles feet In durt each treads Their declyned heads. So when youthe wasted, Age, and yo^u shall meet, 45Then I alone Shall sadly moane That Interviewe; others it will not move, So light regard we, what we little Love.

NOT kisse? By Jove I must, and make impression As longe as Cupid dares to holde his Session Vpon my flesh and blood: our kisses shall Outminute Time and without number fall. 5Doe I not know these Balls of blushinge Red That on thy Cheekes thus amorouslie are spred? Thy snowy necke, those veynes upon thy Browe Which with their azure crincklinge sweetly bowe Are artificiall? Borrowed? and no more thine owne 10Then Chaines which on St. George's Day are showne, Are proper to the wearers? Yet for this I idole thee, and beg a luscious kisse. The fucus, and Ceruse, which on thy face Thy Cunninge hand layes on to add new Grace, 15Detaine me with such pleasing fraude, that I Finde in thy art, what can in nature Lie. Much like a painter that upon some Wall On which the radiant Sun-beames use to fall Paints with such art a Gilded butterflye 20That silly maides with slowe-moved fingers trye To Catch it, and then blush at theire mistake, Yet of this painted flye most reckonynge make: Such is our state; since what we looke upon Is nought but Coullor and Proportion. 25Take me a face, as full of fraud and Lies As Gypsies in your cunninge Lotteries, That is more false, and more Sophisticate Than are Saints reliques, or a man of state. Yet such being Glazed by the sleight of arte, 30Gaines admiration, winninge many a Harte. Put case there be a difference in the molde, Yet may thy Venus be more Chaste, and holde A dearer treasure: oftentimes we see Rich Candian wines in woodden Boules to bee. 35The odoriferous Civet doth not lie Within the muskat's nose, or eare, or eye, But in a baser place; for prudent nature In drawinge us of various formes and stature Gives from the curious shop of hir rich treasure 40To faire parts comeliness, to baser, pleasure. The fairest flowers, which in the Springe doe growe Are not so much for use, as for the showe, As Lillies, Hyacinths, and the georgious birthe Of all pide flowers that diaper the earthe, 45Please more with their discoloured purple traine Then wholesome pothearbs which for use remaine. Shall I a Gaudy Speckled Serpent kiss For that the colours which he weares are his? A perfumed Cordevant who will not wear 50Because the sente is borrowed elsewhere? The roabes and vestiments, which grace us all Are not our owne, but adventitiall. Time rifles Natures beauty, but slye Arte Repaires by cunninge this decayinge parte. 55Fills here a wrinckle, and there purles a veyne, And with a nimble hand runs o're againe The breaches dented in by th'arme of time, And makes Deformity to be no crime. As when great men be grip't by sicknes hand, 60Industrious Physicke pregnantly doth stand To patch up foule diseases, and doth strive To keepe theire totteringe Carcasses alive. Beautie is a candlelight which every puffe Blowes out, and leaves nought but a stinking snuffe 65To fill our nostrills with; this boldelie thinke, The cleerest Candle makes the greatest stincke, As your pure fode and cleerest nutryment Gets the most hott, and nose stronge excrement. Why hange we then on thinges so apt to varie, 70So fleetinge, brittle, and so temporarie? That agues, Coughes, the toothache, or Catarr (Slight hansells of diseases) spoile and marr. But when olde age theire beauties hath in Chace, And plowes up furrowes in theire once-smoothe face, 75Then they become forsaken, and doe showe Like stately abbeyes ruin'd longe agoe. Nature but gives the modell, and first draught Of faire perfection, which by art is taught To speake itselfe, a compleat form and birthe, 80Soe stands a Copie to these shapes on earthe. Jove grante me then a reparable face Which, whiles that Colours are, can want no grace. Pigmalions painted statue I coulde love, Soe it were warme and softe, and coulde but move.

MADAM that flea that Crept between your brests I envied, that there he should make his rest: The little Creatures fortune was soe good That Angells feed not on so pretious foode. 5How it did sucke how eager tickle you (Madam shall fleas before me tickle you?) Oh I can not holde; pardon if I kild it. Sweet Blood, to you I aske this, that which fild it Ran from my Ladies Brest. Come happie flea 10That dide for suckinge of that milkie Sea. Oh now againe I well could wishe thee there, About hir Hart, about hir anywhere; I would vowe (Dearest flea) thou shouldst not dye, If thou couldst sucke from hir hir crueltye.

I F shaddowes be the pictures excellence; And make it seeme more lively to the sence; If starres in the bright day are hid from sight And shine most glorious in the masque of night; 5Why should you thinke (rare creature) that you lack Perfection cause your haire and eyes are blacke, Or that your heavenly beauty which exceedes The new sprung lillies in their mayden weeds, The damaske coullour of your cheekes and lipps 10Should suffer by their darknesse an eclipps? Rich diamonds shine brightest, being sett And compassed within a foyle of Jett. Nor was it fitt that Nature should have mayde So bright a sunne to shine without a shade. 15It seemes that Nature when she first did fancie Your rare composure studied Necromancie, That when to you this guift she did impart She used altogether the black art. By which infused power from Magique tooke 20You doe command all spiritts with a looke: Shee drew those Magique circles in your eyes, And mayde your hayre the chaines wherewith shee ties Rebelling hearts: those blew veines which appeare, Winding Meander about either spheare, 25Misterious figures are, and when you list Your voice commandeth like the Exorcist, And every word which from your Pallett falleth In a deep charme your hearer's heart inthralleth. Oh! If in Magique you have skill so farre, 30Vouchsafe me to be your familiar. Nor hath kind Nature her black art reveal'd To outward partes alone, some lie conceal'd, And as by heads of springs men often knowe The nature of the streames that run belowe, 35So your black haire and eyes do give direction To make me thinke the rest of like complexion: That rest where all rest lies that blesseth Man, That Indian mine, that straight of Magellan, That worlde dividing gulfe where he that venters, 40With swelling sayles and ravisht senses enters To a new world of blisse. Pardon, I pray, If my rude muse presumeth to display Secretts unknowne, or hath her bounds orepast In praysing sweetnesse which I ne're did tast; 45Sterved men doe know there's meate, and blind men may Though hid from light presume there is a day. The rover in the marke his arrowe sticks Sometimes as well as he that shootes att prickes, And if I might direct my shaft aright, 50The black mark would I hitt and not the white.

A ND though thy glasse a burning one become And turne us both to ashes on her urne, Yet to our glory till the later day Our dust shall daunce like attomes in her ray. 5And when the world shall in confusion burne, And Kinges and peasantes scramble at an urne, Like tapers new blowne out wee happy then Will at her beames catch fire and live againe. But this is sence, and some one may-be glad 10That I so good a cause of sorrow had, Will with all those whome I affect may dye So I might please him with an elegie. O let there never line of witt be read To please the living that doth speake thee dead; 15Some tender-harted mother good and mild, Who on the deare grave of her tender child So many sad teares hath beene knowne to rayne As out of dust would mould him up againe, And with hir plaintes enforce the wormes to place 20Themselves like veynes so neatly on his face, And every lymne, as if that they wer striving To flatter hir with hope of his reviving: Shee should read this, and hir true teares alone Should coppy forth these sad lines on the stone 25Which hides thee dead, and every gentle hart That passeth by should of his teares impart So great a portion, that if after times Ruine more churches for the Clergyes crimes, When any shall remove thy marble hence, 30Which is lesse stone then hee that takes it thence, Thou shalt appeare within thy tearefull cell Much like a faire nymph bathing in a well. But when they find thee dead so lovely fair, Pitty and sorrow then shall straight repaire 35And weepe beside thy grave with cipresse cround, To see the secound world of beauty dround, And add sufficient teares as they condole 'Twould make thy body swimme up to thy soule. Such eyes should read the lines are writ of thee; 40But such a losse should have no elegie To palliate the wound wee tooke in hir, Who rightly greeves admittes no comforter. He that had tane to heart thy parting hence Should have beene chain'd to Bedlam two houres thence, 45And not a frind of his ere shed a teare To see him for thy sake distracted there, But hugge himselfe for loving such as hee That could runne mad with greefe for loosing thee. I, haplesse soule, that never knew a frend 50But to bewayle his too untimely end, Whose hopes (cropt in the bud) have never come But to sitt weeping on a sencelesse tombe, That hides not dust enough to count the teares Which I have fruitlesse spent in so few yeares, 55I that have trusted those that would have given For our deare Saviour and the Sonne of heaven Ten times the valew Judas had of yore, Onely to sell him for three peeces more; I that have lov'd and trusted thus in vaine 60Yet weepe for thee, and till the clowdes shall daigne To throw on Egipt more then Nile ere sweld, These teares of mine shalbee unparellell'd. He that hath lov'd, enjoy'd, and then beene crost, Hath teares at will to mourne for what he lost; 65He that hath trusted and his hope appeares Wrong'd but by death may soone dissolve in teares; But hee unhappy man whose love and trust Nere met fruition nor a promise just, For him (unlesse like thee hee deadly slepe) 70'Tis easier to runn mad then 'tis to weepe; And yet I can. Fall then yee mournefull showers, And as old time leades on the winged howers, Bee you their minutes, and let men forgett To count their ages from the plague of sweat, 75From eighty eight, the Poulder-plot, or when Men were affrayd to talke of it againe; And in their numerations be it sayd Thus old was I when such a teare was shed, And when that other fell a comett rose 80And all the world tooke notice of my woes. Yet finding them past cure, as doctores fly Their patientes past all hope of remedy, No charitable soule will once impart One word of comfort to so sicke a heart; 85But as a hurt deare beaten from the heard, Men of my shadow allmost now affeard Fly from my woes, that whilome wont to greet mee, And well nigh thinke it ominous to meete mee. Sad lines go yee abroad; go saddest muse, 90And as some nations formerly did use To lay their sicke men in the street, that those, Who of the same disease had scapt the throwes, Might minister releefe as they went by To such as felt the selfsame malady, 95So haplesse lynes fly through the fairest land, And if ye light into some blessed hand, That hath a heart as merry as the shine Of golden dayes, yet wrong'd as much as mine, Pitty may lead that happy man to mee, 100And his experience worke a remedy To those sad fittes which (spight of nature's lawes) Torture a poore hart that out-lives the cause. But this must never bee, nor is it fitt An ague or some sickenes lesse then itt 105Should glory in the death of such as hee, That had a heart of flesh and valued thee. Brave Roman, I admire thee that would'st dy At no lesse rate then for an empery. Some massy diamond from the center drawne, 110For which all Europ wer an equall pawne, Should (beaten into dust) bee drunke by him That wanted courage good enough to swimme Through seas of woes for thee, and much despise To meet with death at any lower prize, 115Whilst greefe alone workes that effect in mee, And yet no greefe but for the losse of thee. Fortune now doe thy worst, for I have gott By this her death so strong an antidote, That all thy future crosses shall not have 120More then an angry smile, nor shall the grave Glory in my last day: these lines shall give To us a second life, and we will live To pull the distaffe from the hand of fate; And spinn our own thrides for so long a date, 125That death shall never seize uppon our fame Till this shall perish in the whole world's frame.

FAREWEL ye guilded follies, pleasing troubles, Farewel ye honour'd rags, ye glorious bubbles; Fame's but a hollow echo, gold pure clay, Honour the darling but of one short day. 5Beauty (th'eyes idol) but a damasked skin, State but a golden prison, to keepe in And torture free-born minds; imbroidered trains Meerly but Pageants, proudly swelling vains, And blood ally'd to greatness, is a loane 10Inherited, not purchased, not our own. Fame, honor, beauty, state, train, blood and birth, Are but the fading blossomes of the earth. I would be great, but that the Sun doth still Level his rayes against the rising hill: 15I would be high, but see the proudest Oak Most subject to the rending Thunder-stroke; I would be rich, but see men too unkind Dig in the bowels of the richest mine; I would be wise, but that I often see 20The Fox suspected whilst the Ass goes free; I would be fair, but see the fair and proud Like the bright sun, oft setting in a cloud; I would be poor, but know the humble grass Still trampled on by each unworthy Asse: 25Rich, hated; wise, suspected; scorn'd, if poor; Great, fear'd; fair, tempted; high, stil envied more: I have wish'd all, but now I wish for neither, Great, high, rich, wise, nor fair, poor I'l be rather. Would the world now adopt me for her heir, 30Would beauties Queen entitle me the Fair, Fame speak me fortune's Minion, could I vie Angels with India, with a speaking eye Command bare heads, bow'd knees, strike Justice dumb As wel as blind and lame, or give a tongue 35To stones, by Epitaphs, be called great Master In the loose rhimes of every Poetaster; Could I be more then any man that lives, Great, fair, rich, wise in all Superlatives; Yet I more freely would these gifts resign 40Then ever fortune would have made them mine, And hold one minute of this holy leasure, Beyond the riches of this empty pleasure. Welcom pure thoughts, welcom ye silent groves, These guests, these Courts, my soul most dearly loves, 45Now the wing'd people of the Skie shall sing My cheerful Anthems to the gladsome Spring; A Pray'r book now shall be my looking-glasse, Wherein I will adore sweet vertues face. Here dwell no hateful looks, no Pallace cares, 50No broken vows dwell here, nor pale-faced fears, Then here I'l sit and sigh my hot loves folly, And learn t'affect an holy melancholy. And if contentment be a stranger, then I'l nere look for it, but in heaven again.

I would be wise but that the fox I see Suspected guilty when the Ass goes free A182, E26, H60, Grosart, and Chambers

I would be fair, but see that Champion proud The bright sun often setting in a cloud WI and MSS., but with The worlds bright eye or fair eye

could I vie Angels with India, Walton, A182, E26, H60

could I joy The blisse of angells, CCC

could I vie (vey Grosart) The blisse of angells, Grosart and Chambers

Here dwells no hartlesse Love, no palsey fears, No short joys purchased with eternal tears. A182, H60