Call a rough carele ffnefs good fashion;
Whofe cloak his fpurs tear, or whom he spits on,
He cares not, he. His ill words do no harm
To him; he rushes in, as if Arm, Arm,
He meant to cry; and though his face be as ill
As theirs which in old hangings whip Chrift, ftill
He ftrives to look worfe; he keeps all in awe,
Jefts like a licens'd fool, commands like law.
Tir'd, now; leave this place, and but pleas'd fo
As men from gaols to execution go;
Go through the Great Chamber (why is it hung
With the feven deadly fins?) being among
Thofe Afkaparts, men big enough to throw
Charing-crols, for a bar, men that do know
No token of worth but queen's man and fine
Living, barrels of beef and flagons of wine,
Ifhook like a fpy'd fpy. Preachers! which are
Seas of wit and arts, you can, then dare
Drown the fins of this place; for, for me,
Which am but a fcant brook, it enough fhall be
To wash the ftains away; although I yet
(With Maccabee' modefty) the known merit
Of my work leffen, yet fome wife men thall,
I hope, efteem my writs canonical.
Flows from the firft main head; and these can throw
Thee, if they fuck thee in, to misery,
To fetters, halters. But if th' injury
Steel thee to dare complain, alas! thou go'st
Against the ftream, upwards, when thou art molt
Heavy and moft faint; and in thefe labours they,
'Gainst whom thou shouldft complain, will in thy
way
Become great feas, o'er which, when thou shalt be
Forc'd to make golden bridges, thou shalt fee
That all thy gold was drown'd in them before.
All things follow their like, only who have may
Judges are gods; and he who made them fo
Meant not men fhould be forc'd to them to gs
Tuou shalt not laugh, in this leaf, Mufe! nor they By means of angels. When fupplications
Whom any pity warnis. He which did lay
Rules to make courtiers, he being understood
May make good courtiers, but who courtiers good?
Frees from the fting of jefts all who in extreme
Are wretched or wicked; of these two a theme
Charity and Liberty give me. What is he
Who officers' rage and suiters' mifery
Can write in je? If all things be in all,
As I think, fince all which were, are, and fhall
Be, be made of the fame elements,
Each thing, each thing implies or represents;
Then man is a world, in which officers
Are the vast ravishing feas, and fuiters
Springs, now full, now fhallow, now dry, which to
That which drowns them run: thefe felf reafens do
Prove the world a man, in which officers
Are the devouring ftomach, and fuitors
Th' excrements which they void. All men are duft;
How much worfe are fuitors, who no men's luft
Are made preys? O worfe than duft or worms'
meat!
We send to God, to dominations,
Powers, cherubims, and all heaven's courts, if we
| Should pay fees, as here, daily bread would be
Scarce to kings; fo'tis. Would it not anger
A ftoic, a coward, yea, a martyr,
For they eat you now whofe felves worms fhall eat.
They are the mills which grind you; yet you are
The wind which drives them; and a wastful war
Is fought against you, and you fight it: they
Adulterate law, and you prepare the way,
Like wittals; th' iffue your own ruin is.
Greatest and faireft Emprefs? know you this?
Alas! no more than Thames' calm head doth know
Whofe meads her arms drown, or whofe can o'er-
flow.
You, Sir, whofe righteoufnefs fhe loves, whom I,
By having leave to ferve, am moft richly
For fervice paid authoriz'd, now begin
To know and weed out this enormous fin.
To fee a purfuivant come in, and call
All his clothes Copes, books Primers, and all
His plate Chalices; and mif-take them away,
And afk a fee for coming? Oh! ne'er may
Fair law's white rev'rend name be strumpeted,
To warrant thefts: fhe is established
Recorder to Deftiny on earth, and she
Speaks Fate's words, and tells who must be
Rich, who poor, who in chairs, and who in gaols:
She is all fair, but yet hath foul long nails,
With which the fcratcheth fuitors. In bodies
Of men, fo in law, nails are extremities;
So officers firetch to more than law can do,
As our nails reach what no elfe part comes to.
Why bar'ft thou to yon' officer? Fool, hath he
Got thofe goods for which erft men bar'd to thee?
Fool! twice, thrice, thou hast bought wrong and
Begg'ft right, but that dole comes not till thefe die..
Thou hadst much and law's Urim and Thummim
Thou wouldst for more; and for all haft paper
Enough to clothe all the great Carrick's pepper,
Sell that, and by that thou much more fhalt leefe
Than Hammon, when he fold 's antiquities.
O Wretch that thy fortunes fhould moralize
fop's Fables, and make tales prophefies.
Thou art the fwimming dog, whom fhadows co-
zened,
Which div', near drowning, for what vanished.
MEN write that love and reafon difagree,
But I ne'er faw't expreft as 't is in thee.
Well, I may lead thee, God must make thee fee;
But thine eyes blind too, there's no hope for thee.
Thou fay'ft fhe's wife and witty, fair and free;
All these are reasons why the should fcorn thee.
Thou doft proteft thy love, and wouldft it fhew
By matching her, as fhe would match her foe;
And wouldst perswade her to a worse offence
Than that whereof thou didst accufe her wench.
Reason there's none for thee, but thou may'ft vex
Her with example. Say, for fear her fex
Shun her, fhe needs must change: I do not fee
How reafon e'er can bring that must to thee.
'Thou art a match a juftice to rejoice,
Fit to be his, and not his daughter's choice. Dry'd with his threats fhe'd fcarcely ftay with thee,
And wouldst th' have this to choose thee, being free?
Go, then, and punish some soon gotten stuff;
For her dead husband this hath mourn'd enough
In hating thee. Thou may'ft one like this meet; For fpite take her, prove kind, make thy breath fweet:
Let her fee the 'hath caufe, and to bring to thee Honeft children, let her dishonest be.
If the be a widow, I'll warrant her
She'll thee before her first hufband prefer;
And will with thou hadft had her maidenhead,
(She'll love thee fo) for then thou hadft been dead.
But thou fuch ftrong love and weak reasons haft,
Thou must thrive there, or ever live difgrac'd.
Yet pause a while, and thou may'st live to fee
A time to come wherein the may beg thee.
If thou'lt not paufe nor change, fhe'll beg thee now,
Do what she can, love for nothing allow.
Befides, here were too much gain and merchandise,
And when thou art rewarded defert dies.
Now thou haft odds of him fhe loves; he may doubt
Her conftancy, but none can put thee out.
Again, be thy love true, fhe'll prove divine,
And in the end the good on't will be thine;
For though thou must ne'er think of other love,
And fo wilt advance her as high above
Virtue as cause above effect can be,
'Tis virtue to be chaste, she'll make thçe.
On FREDERICK COUNT PALATINE of the Rhine, and LADY ELIZABETH, being married on St. Valentine's Day,
HAIL, Bishop Valentine! whofe day this is,
All the air is thy diocese,
And all the chirping choristers
And other birds are thy parishioners:
Thou marry'st every year
The lyric lark and the grave whispering dove;
The fparrow, that neglects his life for love,
The household bird with red ftomacher;
Thou mak'st the black bird speed as foon
As doth the goldfinch or the halcyon;
The husband cock looks out, and strait is fped,
And meets his wife, which brings her feather bed.
This day more cheerfully than ever shine;
This day, which might inflame thyfelf, old Va-
lentine!
Till now thou warm'dst with multiplying loves Two larks, two fparrows, or two doves;
All that is nothing unto this,
For thou this day coupleft two phoenixes.
Thou mak'ft a taper fee
What the fun never faw, and what the ark
(Which was of fowl and beafts the cage and park)
Did not contain; one bed contains through thee
Two phoenixes, whofe joined breasts
Are unto one another mutual nefts;
Where motion kindles fuch fires as shall give
Young phoenixes, and yet the old fhall live;
Whofe love and courage never shall decline,
But make the whole year through thy day,
Valentine!
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Tak'ft warmth enough, and from thine eye
All leffer birds will take their jollity.
Up, up, fair Bride! and call
Thy ftars from out their several boxes; take
Thy rubies, pearls, and diamonds, forth, and make Thyself a conftellation of them all;
And by their blazing fignify
That a great princefs falls, but doth not die :
Be thou a new ftar, that to us portends
Ends of much wonder, and be thou those ends.
Since thou doft this day in new glory shine,
May all men date records from this day, Va-
lentine!
But, oh! what ails the fun, that hence he stays
Longer to-day than other days?
Stays he new light from th f: to get?
And finding here such stars is loth to fet
They did, and night is come; and yet we fee
Formalities retarding thee.
What mean thefe ladies, which (as though
They were to take a clock in pieces) go
So nicely about the bride?
A bride, before a good-night could be faid,
-Should vanish from her clothes into her bed,
As fouls from bodies steal, and are not spy'd.
But now he's laid: what though the be?
Yet there are more delays; for where is he?
He comes, and paffeth through fphere after sphere;
Firft her sheets, then her arms, then any where.
Let not this day, then, but this night, be thine;
Thy day was but the eve to this, O Valentine!
Here lies a fhe fun, and he a moon there;
She gives the beft light to his fphere;
Or each is both, and all, and fo
They unto one another nothing owe:
And yet they do; but are
So just and rich in that coin which they pay,
That neither would, nor needs, forbear nor flay;
Neither defires to be fpar'd nor to spare:
They quickly pay their debt, and then
Take no acquittances, but pay again:
They pay, they give, they lend, and fo let fall
No occafion to be liberal.
More truth, more courage, in thefe two do fhine
Than all thy turtles have, and fparrows, Valentine!
And by this act of these two phenixes
Nature again restored is;
For fince thefe two are two no more,
There's but one phoenix ftill, as was before.
Reft now, at laft, and we
(As Satyrs watch the fun's uprife) will flay
Waiting when your eyes opened let out day,
Only defired, because your face we fee;
Others near you fhall whifp'ring speak,
And wagers lay, at which fide day will break,
And win, by obferving then whofe hand it is
That opens firft a curtain, her's or his.
This will be try'd to-morrow after nine,
Till which hour we thy day enlarge, O Valentine!
THE fun-beams in the Eaft are spread, Leave, leave, fair Bride! your folitary bed;
Daughters of London! you which be
Our golden mines and fernifh'd treafury;
You which are angels, yet still bring with you
Thousands of angels on your marriage days,
Help with your prefence, and devife to praise
Thefe rites, which alfo unto you grow due;
Conceitedly drefs her, and be affign'd
By you fit place for every flower and jewel;
Make her for Love fit fuel
As gay as Flora, and as rich as Inde;
So may fhe, fair and rich, in nothing lame,
To-day put on perfection and a woman's name.
And you, frolic Patricians!
Sons of thofe fenators, wealth's deep oceans;
Ye painted Courtiers! barrels of others' wits,
Ye Country men! who but your beafts love none;
Ye of thote fellowships, whereof he's one,
Of study and play made ftrange hermaphrodites,
Here fhine; this bridegroom to the temple bring,
Lo! in yon' path which ftore of ftrow'd flow'rs
graceth,
The fober virgin paceth;
Except my fight fail 't is no other thing:
Weep not, nor bluth, here is no grief nor fhame;
To-day put on perfection and a wonian's name.
Thy two-leav'd gates fair Temple! unfold,
And thefe two in thy facred bofom hold,
Till myftically join'd but one they be;
Then may thy lean and hunger-ftarved womb
Long time expect their bodies and their tomb,
Long after their own parents fatten thee.
All elder claims, and all cold barrennefs,
All yielding to new loves he far for ever,
Which might thele two diffever,
Always all th' other may each one poffefs;
For the best bride, best worthy of praife and fame,
To-day puts on perfection and a woman's name.
The amorous evening-star is rose,
Why then should not our amorous ftar inclofe
Herself in her with'd bed? Release your strings,
Muficians! and, Dancers! take fome truce
With these your pleafing labours; for great ufe
As much wearinefs as perfection brings.
You, and not only you but all toil'd beaft
Reft duly; at night all their toils are difpenf'd;
But in their beds commenc'd
Are other labours, and more dainty feasts.
She goes a maid who, left the turn the fame,
To-night puts on perfection and a woman's
Thy virgin's girdle now untie,
And in thy nuptial bed (Love's altar) lie
A pleafing facrifice; now difpoffefs
Thee of these chains and robes which were put on
T'adorn the day, not thee; for thou alone,
Like Virtue and Truth, are best in nakedness:
VOL. IV.
Ev'n like a faithful man, content
That this life for a better should be spent,
So the a mother's rich ftyle doth prefer,
And at the bridegroom's wifh'd approach doth
Like an appointed lamb, when tenderly
The priest comes on his knees t' imbowel her.
Now fleep or watch with more joy; and, oh!
light
Of heav'n! to-morrow rife thou hot and early,
This fun will love fo dearly
Her reft, that long long, we fhall want her fight.
Wonders are wrought; for the which had no
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