A Description OF LOVE.
WITH certaine Epigrams. Elegies. and Sonnets.
AND Also IOHNSONS Answer to WITHERS.
The Second Edition, With the Crie of LVDGATE.
AND The Song of the BEGGER.
LONDON. Printed by Edw. Griffin. 1620.
Ad Lectorem.
Some men there be that praise what's good they hear,
And some there are that carpe what ere it be:
Some men in
Zoilus ghost will soone appeare,
And some with
Aristippus flattery.
But carpe at what you can, dispraise, back-bite,
I'le neuer hide my Poems from the light.
Ad lectorem maleuolum,
PAle faced Enuy aimes at greatest men,
And by her nature euer seekes to clime;
If it be so surely, she will not then
Looke-downe so low as for to view my rime,
But if against her nature shee will see't.
Her face to face my verse shall dare to meete.
In eundem.
IF good it be I write, some pick-thanke-pate,
Will sweare that I had some Coadinuate;
If naught it be, the more is my disgrace;
For euery man will houte me to my face.
But spit your venome at me if you will,
I must write what is good or what is ill.
Ad candidum Lectorem.
PLease learned wits, I know I neuer shall,
For shallow is my wit, my will is all,
If that the meanest sort I can but please,
I'le count this worke a play, this labour ease.
Ad Lectorem.
NOr good nor bad I can these verses call,
Some bad I know, and yet not therefore all.
'Mongst sweetest flowers no some nettles spring:
There's some blacke feathers in the Peaceckes wing.
Let not the bad then all the rest disgrace,
Faire
Venus had a wart vpon her face.
Nemo Propheta in patria sua.
GOod gentle Readers let me truely tell,
That Citty, Towne, and Countrey loues me well.
At home some hate me, too too well I know it;
They thinking me a Prophet or a Poet.
Ad Lectorem.
REad gently, gentle Reader, as t'is fit,
Lest that your tongue should ouer-runne my wit.
¶ A Description OF LOƲE.
NE're toucht my lips the
Heliconian Well,
Mine eies ne'regazd vpon
Parnassus Hill.
My tongue did neuer Ancients stories tell
My hand did neuer hold a curious quill.
Yet write I must, but if I barren bee,
And shew no wit, I'le shew my industry.
Where is that mortall man that can define
The thing cald loue, which all the gods do honor?
Her greatnes goes beyond the wit of mine,
I go beyond my wits; to thinke vpon her:
The more I think what this same loue should be,
The lesse I do conceiue what thing is shee.
A taske most weighty doe I vndergoe,
By vndertaking for to speake of Loue,
Whose bare description I did neuer know,
Whose definition pose the gods aboue,
She's deafe yet heares, she's dumb yet speaks, she's blind,
Yet
Ianus like, she seeth before, behind.
Like vnto Summers grasse shee's fresh and greene,
Shee adornes the body as the flowers the field,
She in a Begger liues, as in a Queene,
She conquers
Mars, and yet to
Mars shee'l yeeld;
Shee's white, shee's red, shee's yellow as the gold,
Shee's euer liuing, yet is neuer old.
Inuisible shee is, yet her we see,
Both Heauen and earth this goddesse doth inherit,
Shee's flesh, shee's bloud, shee's bone as well as we.
Yet can shee nothing doe but with a spirit;
Shee is a ponderous feather, wittie folly,
A quicke thing slow, a merry melancholy.
Shee'l soone be angry, Shee'l be pleas'd assoone,
Maliciousnesse nere harbours in her mind.
She's hot i'the morning, but shee's cold ere noon,
She's rough, shee's calm, shee's hoggish, yet shee's kind,
She'l sing, she'l sob, so that the curious fictiō
May tearme and call her, a contradiction.
Shee is a restlesse rest, a fervent cold,
A wholsome poyson, shee's a painfull pleasure,
Exceeding shamefast, shee's exceeding bold;
Shee's bitter hony, shee's a gainlesse treasure,
Shee's too too loose, yet too too fast a knot.
Shee is a hellish Heauen, what is shee not?
Shee made
Leander passe the raging Seas,
His louing
Hero that he might enioy;
Faire
Helena did
Paris better please,
Then all his kinsfolks, or the wealth in
Troy:
Shee's such a thing that we so much respect,
That we our friends forget, our selues neglect.
Our natiue Country doe we quite forsake,
Our prudent parents will we disobey,
Through desert places iournies doe we make,
And so become some lurking Lions pray:
Nay more then this, downe quicke to hell we go,
As
Orpheus did, if Loue would haue it so.
Whil'st on the key-cold earth our loue doth lie,
The ground sends forth a comfortable heat,
Forgetting of her owne proprietie,
The stones seeme soft whilst loue makes them her seat,
Down on the downs whil'st Louers lie together;
The down seems down, & euery stone a fether.
Who her enioyes, enioyes all earthly pleasure,
Who her enioyes, can feele no cold not heat,
Who her enioyes, enioyes a world of treasure,
Who her enioyes, enioyes his drinke, his meat:
Shee's hony sweet, her selfe not mixt with gall,
Who her enioyes, enioyeth all in all.
But if the goddesse Loue should changed be,
And not perpetually abide the same;
Shee head-long fals into extremity,
She takes vpon her then another name.
Her white is blacke, her smillings changed are,
Shee is a fury growne which once was faire.
Her golden haires are turn'd to slimy snakes,
Her eies like fire, her touch doth poyson spit;
Most grim and dreadfully her head she shakes:
Which on her shoulders once did finely sit.
Her pretty lisping tongue, & wanton speeches,
Are turnd to yelling, howling, and to scretches.
She whom the gods did loue to looke vpon,
Makes
Pluto quiuer at her odious sight:
Who was a Mate most meete for
Ioue alone,
Is now become a Fiend of darksome night;
Who once was louely and in rich estate.
Is wretched, hurtfull, and is turn'd to hate.
Your youthfull Youths will not so often knocke,
And beate their tender fists against the doore,
But rust and canker now consumes the locke,
For want of vse which shind with vse before.
Shee keepes her home, and lurking there doth lie
In holes and corners free from company.
Speake what she will, shee may, here's none that heares;
Let her bite, back-bite, slander or reuile,
Weep whilst shee's weary, none respects her tears,
We know they come but from a Crocodile,
We know her arts, her cunning, charmes & skill,
Who can seeme kinde to those she meanes to kill.
Then why for
Rosa should I carke and care?
Why for my
Rosa should I sorrow feele,
Being she's false, as much as she is faire?
What once lay at my heart, lies at my heele:
For why, a foole I should accounted be,
To die for her that skornes to liue with mee.
Farewell my
Rosa, fickle as the winde,
Yet read these verses which I make of you,
Scan them vpon your fingers, & you'le finde
That euery staffe and line of these be true:
Then since that you and I are now apart,
My Verses feet be truer then thy heart.
Cursed be that beauty which was once my blisse,
Cursed be those twinckling star-like eies of thine,
Cursed be those lips which gaue me kisse for kisse,
Cursed be the tong which told me, thou wert mine,
Cursed be those arms which once did hold me fast
And ten times cursed be what e're thou hast.
Now to some vncouth desart will I goe,
There will I lay me downe in melancholy,
Where croaking toads lie throtling out my woe,
Or where some snakes lie hissing at my folly:
There will I lay me downe, there will I stay,
And neuer turne vntill I turne to clay.
But soft, what slumber hath mine eies opprest,
What idle fantasies disturbs my braines,
What is it makes me raile amidst my rest,
In slumber sweet what makes me talke of paines?
Pardon sweet Loue, on me compassion take,
For this I dreaming or in passion spake.
The
Heliotropium makes no shew at night,
The proudest
Peacocke hath no pleasing crie,
The glittering Sunne reserues his totall light,
Though mistie cloudes may keepe it from our eie:
Pardon sweet, loue, once more I pardon aske,
Faire is not foule, although she weares a maske.
He somtimes feeles the pricks that puls the rose;
Who hony takes may sometimes touch the sting,
The fairest flowers may offend the nose,
Death may be neere, although the Swan doth sing:
Checks from such cheekes, & frownes from such a face,
Sweet loue I like, so I may thee imbrace.
Then promise mee I may enioy thy sight,
And faithfully thy word and promise keepe,
Lest I lie rumbling all the irkesome night,
Telling the tedious minutes wanting sleepe:
For when ones loue doth stay a while away,
Each minute seems an houre, each houre a day.
Seeing.
What if I walke most richly through the towne,
What if I be ador'd like
Mahomet,
What if I take my rest on beds of downe,
What if I doe inioy whole kingdomes? yet
All this is nought, vnlesse my
Rosa be
In presence, to behold my brauerie.
Hearing.
What if the best Musitians that be,
Take in their hand a seuerall instrument,
And play to me the sweetest harmony
That euer was? yet were it no content;
The sweetest tunes seems harsh vnto mine care,
Vnlesse my
Rosa be in place to heare.
Smelling.
What if my skin should be by nature sweete
Like
Alexanders; whar if by perfumes
Each man should smell me passing through the streete,
What if my smell make sweet ill-smelling roomes?
These smels, these odors little will content me,
Vnlesse my
Rosa be in place to sent me.
Tasting.
What if my Table be most richly spread
With the best iunkets can be made for men,
If nectar be my drinke, if that my bread
Be of the purest Mancher made, what then?
All these delights will not my palate please,
Lest my
Rosa be in place to taste of these.
Feeling.
What if the fairest Damsels in the Land
With soft silke skin and Alabaster white,
Should all at once before me naked stand
To touch, they'd neither please my touch or sight:
Rosa is shee, like whom there is none such,
She is my eye, eare, smell, my tast, my touch.
All the Senses.
Her voice is pleasant musicke to the eare,
Her lookes doth like our sight exceeding well:
Feed on her lips, she is the daintiest cheare,
'Mong all perfumes she is the sweetest smell:
Our hot desire her water onely quenches,
She is the touch, the very sense of Sences.
She is the Star by which the Ship men faile,
She is the hatches, she wherein they rest,
She is the wind which makes the prosperous gale,
She is the hauen, she which pleaseth best;
She is the Dolphin which
Arion did
Preserue from danger, whil'st he plaid and rid.
Then be my Pilot to direct my Ship,
Be thou the onely house where I may dwell,
Be thou the onely cup to touch my lip,
Be thou my heauen, and I shall feele no hell:
Be thou my winde in spite of
Aeolus,
My iourney then must needes be prosperous.
Now what is Loue, or what may we it call,
Tell me O thou that triest? I doe beseech
You see, that onely shee's the senses all;
I thinke shee's also all the parts of Speech:
To call her first a Noune, I thinke it good,
Who can be felt, seene, heard, or vnderstood.
A Noune.
She is a
Noune, and a
Noune substantiue,
And by that name I may her rightly call,
Who stands her selfe, vnlesse another striue
To fling her downe, and force her for to fall:
An
Adiectiue she may be also said,
Who sometime doth require anothers aid,
But of
Nonne Substantiues there are two sorts,
Some Nounes are proper, others common be,
The best of all Grammarians reports;
If it be so, yet both of these is she:
She's proper, small, and of but slender bone,
Shee is doubtfull, common yet to moe then one.
A Pronoune.
Shee is a
Pronoune, like vnto a
Noune,
A
Pronoune now she may be called well,
For she what ere is done throughout the towne,
To euery one that comes will shew and tell;
She busie is, like Poets that be versing,
She doth delight in shewing and rehearsing.
A Verbe.
Shee's a
Ʋerbe Actiue; for if any wooe,
And aske her if she loues, shee'l say, I doe;
Shee is a
Passiue too, for shee'l sit still,
And suffer any man to haue his will;
But yet to her I n'ere will be a Suter,
Shee's
Actiue, Passiue, but to me a
Neuter.
A Participle.
Shee is a
Participle too I know,
For she has two strings euer to her bow;
Shee is a
Noune, a
Verbe, yet sometimes neither:
Shee sometimes onely takes but part of either:
Foure kindes of
Participles now there be,
But shee is of the
Preter tense with me.
An Adverbe.
Adverbs of diuers kindes we know there be,
An
Adverbe then of any kinde is she,
Sometimes shee is of place, for here and there,
Nay looke for her, you'l finde her any where;
Shee's any
Adverbe; if you would know why,
Shee'l wish, shee'l sweare, flatter, affirme, deny.
A Coniunction.
Shee's a
Coniunction copulatiue, for either
As close as wax shee ioyneth things together,
Or a
Disinnctiue, for shee'l stir vp strife,
(Hauing a naughty tongue) twixt man and wife:
She is a thing that's fit for any function,
Shee's any thing, therefore any
Coniunction.
A Preposition.
Shee is a part of speech commonly set
Before all other parts of speeches; yet
This part of speech, we very often finde
Beyond, beside, nigh, through, about, behinde:
She is a
Preposition likewise seene,
Within, without, against, beneath, betweene:
An Interiection.
Since she is any thing, we last of all,
May rightly her an
Interiection call;
Sometimes shee's curst, somtimes exceeding kind,
Troubled with diuers passiions of the minde;
Of maruelling, shee's often as
Pape,
Sometimes of laughing too, as
Ha, ha, he.
O you most braue coniuring Seminaries,
Read and attend my wofull wooing story:
Take beades, make crosses, say your
Aue Maries,
And pray I may be out of Purgatory:
For if I'me not in Purgatory here,
Ile not beleeue ther's any any where.
Epigrams.
Ad lectorem candidum.
THese Epigrams I made seuen yeeres agoe,
Before I rime or reason scarce did know:
Condemne me not for making these, alas,
It was not I, I am not as I was.
De Ligato non Ligato.
As 'twas my fortune by a wood to ride,
I saw two men, their armes behinde them tide:
The one lamenting there what did befall,
Cride, I'me vndone, my wife and children all:
The other hearing him, alowd did crie,
Vndoe me then, let me no longer lie:
But to be plaine, the men which there I found,
Were both vndone indeed, yet both fast bound.
Ad Tonserium.
Tonserius onely liues by cutting haire,
And yet he brags, that Kings to him sit bare:
Me thinkes he should not brag and boast of it,
For he must stand to Beggers, whiles they sit.
Mordaces sapit vngues.
Philomathes once studying to indite,
Nibled his fingers, and his nailes did bite:
By this I know not what he did intend,
Vnlesse his wit lay at his fingers end.
In Vxorium.
Noctivagus walking in the euening sad,
Met with a Spirit; whether it was good or bad,
He did not know: yet courage he did take,
And to the wandring spirit thus he spake;
If good thou beest, thou'lt hurt no silly men,
If thou beest bad, thou'st cause to loue me then,
For I thy Kinsman am, my wife so euill,
That I am sure I maried with the Deuill.
In Naturam.
Nature did well in giuing poore men wit,
That fooles well monified, may pay for it.
Ad Cansidices.
To go to law, I haue no maw,
Although my sure be sure;
For I shall lacke sutes to my backe,
Eare I my sute procure.
Demosthenis Imperfectio.
Demosthenes both learning had and wit,
As we may gather by the bookes he writ:
Then blame him not, hauing so much to vtter,
If that his tongue did trip, or he did stutter.
In quendam Tobacconistam.
If mans flesh be like swines, as it is said,
The Metamorphosis is sooner made;
Then full fac'd
Gnatho no Tobacco take,
Smoking your corps, lest bacon you doe make.
In quendam Ebrium.
Cinna one time most wonderfully swore
That whil'st he breathed he would drink no more
But since I know his meaning, for I thinke
He meant, he would not breath whilst he did drink.
In Adulatores.
Whilst on the
Heliotropium Sol doth shine,
Her clos'd and twisted selfe it will vntwine,
But when from her bright
Phabus takes his light,
She shuts againe as scornefull to the night.
Whilst on me
Phaebus sun-shine shewes his face,
Each man with open armes will me embrace.
But when the Sunne of fortune'gins to set,
They clutch their owne, hauing no more to get.
In Superbum.
Sylla would take the vpper hand of mee,
Saying he was a better man then I;
I knew my selfe his better for to bee,
But yet the wall I gaue him willingly.
The wall he tooke, and take it euer shall,
For still the weakest goeth to the wall.
Mulieris inconstantia.
A woman may be faire, and yet her mind,
Is as vnconstant as the wauering wind,
Ʋenus her selfe is faire, she shineth farre:
Yet shee's a Planet, and no fixed starre.
Bassae superbia.
If it be true as ancient Authors write,
That Blackamores do paint their Deuils white,
Then why doth
Bassa brag that she is faire,
When such as shee most like the Deuils are?
In medices nostri-seculi.
Twixt former times and ours there is great ods,
For they held men that were Physitians, Gods.
O what a happy age liue we in then,
That haue such Gods before that they be men!
Pauperum felicitas.
Fortune doth fauour poore men most of all,
They hope to rise, but rich men feare to fall.
Ad Coriatum.
Coriat shoes, and shirt did neuer shift
In his last voiage; would you know his drift?
It was because he scorn'd that any one
Should say, he was a shifting Companion.
Ad Caluum.
Caluus to combe his head doth take no eare,
For why, there breeds no nits, where growes no haire.
In Eundem.
Haire on my head I neuer number shall,
Nor
Calvus his, for he hath none at all.
Ad Aucipitem.
As
Auceps walked with his peece to shoote,
Vpon a toad by chance he set his foote,
With that he strait-way started backe and said,
It was the foulest Creature, that was made.
But say he what he will, I thinke not so,
For he himselfe a
Fowler was I know.
In Balbum.
Balbus, with other men would angry be,
Because they could not speake so well as he.
For others speake but with their mouth, he knowes
But
Balbus speakes both through the mouth and nose.
Nulla dies sine linea.
By euer learning
Solon waxed old,
For time he knew, was better farre then gold.
Fortune would giue him gold, which would decay,
But fortune cannot giue him yesterday.
In vino nulla veritas.
Truth is in wine, but none can finde it there,
For in your Tauerne, men will lie and sweare.
In Pictorem.
Priscus is excellent in making faces,
For he his eies, his nose, his mouth displaces;
Since he hath skill in making these alone,
I wonder much he mendeth not his owne,
In Rosam Periuratam.
Rosa being false and periur'd, once a freind,
Bid me contented be, and marke her end.
But yet I care not, let my friend go fiddle,
And let him marke her end, Ile marke her middle.
Temporum inconstantia.
Those men that trauell all the world about,
Doe go to finde the rarest fashions out,
For all the newest fashions that we weare,
We haue beyond Sea; They their fashions here,
But now the world of fashions seemeth dry,
We looke to finde them in the starry skie.
For if you looke it now, this fashion's new,
To weare a starre on a Polonie shooe.
In Adulatorem.
The Dogge will euer barke before he bite,
The Theefe will bid you stand, before hee'le fight,
Each lurking beast, with some sowre visage will
Shew you a former signe of following ill:
But
Marcus yet is ten-times worse then these,
Whose heart is killing, when his words do please.
In Aulicum.
Man's but a worme, the wisest sort doth say,
Yet
Clim the Courtier goes in fine array,
So that if man's a worme till hee's deceast,
He meanes to be a Silke-worme at the least.
De morte Achillis.
Achilles heart no wound would hurt, his minde
No chance could fright, we in story finde:
But yet he died when he did
Paris feele;
Surely I thinke his heart was in his heele.
In Arrogantem.
When foolish
Icarus like a Bird would flie,
With waxed wings he did ascend on hie;
But when that
Phoebus saw his proud intent,
Him head-long downe into the Sea he sent.
Then
Icarus cried, O that I had my wish,
I would not be a Bird, but be a fish.
Mulierum superbia.
Why women weare a Fall, I do not know,
Vnlesse it onely be to make a show;
It's true indeed, to pride they're giuen all,
And pride the Prouerbe saies, must haue a fall.
In quandam Edentulam.
To
Fusca beefe and bacon very loathsome,
Chickens and Pigeons are not very toothsome;
No maruell though if them she cannot eate,
Shee hath no teeth, and they are toothsome meate.
In viraginem
My wife while she doth liue, her Will will take,
For when she dying is, no will must make:
But if shee'le promise quickly for to die,
Ile grant her will, her life-time willingly.
In Calumniatores.
When
Codrus catches fleas, what ere he ailes,
He kils them with his teeth, not with his nailes;
Saying that man by man might blamelesse goe,
If euery one would vse Back-biters so.
In Magistrum Leech fugitiuum.
A pillar of the Church some
Leech doe call,
But such as he are Caterpillars all:
Hee's fled to
Rome, there's roome for such as he,
We loue his roome, but not his company.
Vultus index animi.
If
Phoebus good and bad doth see his signe,
Bassa is bad; for shee when
Sol doth shine
Doth weare a maske, lest to the pearing Sunne,
Her countenance should tell what she hath done.
Ad Momum responsum.
Whilst I, as I was wont, went neate and fine,
Momus me
delicatulum did call;
This was the answere which I made to him,
Take you but halfe the word, and Ile take all.
De Educatione Authoris.
The City
London to me life did giue,
And
Westminster did teach me how to liue:
To whether place I doe most dutie owe,
Good Readers tell me, for I hardly know.
Nosce teipsum.
Walking and meeting one not long agoe,
I ask'd who't was, he said, he did not know;
I said I know thee, so said he, I you,
But he that knowes himselfe I neuer knew.
Nimium ne crede colori.
When
Bassa walkes abroad, she paints her face,
And then she would be seene in euery place;
For then your Gallants who so ere they are,
Vnder a colour will account her faire.
In Macilentum.
When first of all I
Macilent did see,
An vgly spirit, I thought him for to be;
But since I know the cause he look'd so grim,
Had hardly flesh enough to couer him.
In faeneratorem.
Griper more money got then he could spend,
By mony which to others he did lend,
Say what he will, he was no gainer yet,
But he a Looser was, which so did get:
To get by cosening, was his whole pretence,
By getting so, he lost his conscience.
In eundem.
Much gold you Griper gather and corrade,
By lending out to vse a damned trade;
But whilst of gold you are a Hell-u-o,
Much to the Deuill, much to hell you owe.
In ventriculum sesquipedalem.
Gaster did seeme to me to want his eies,
For he could neither see his legs nor thighes;
But yet it was not so, he had his sight,
Onely his belly hanged in his light.
In Asseclam.
Sextus in old apparell still doth goe,
Yet all his sute is new from top to toe:
It is no maruell though, if this be true,
His Masters old apparell makes him new.
In Edentulum garrulum.
Nature the teeth doth as an hedge ordaine,
The nimble frisking tongue for to containe:
No maruell then since that the hedge is out,
If
Fuscus tongue walketh so fast about.
Necessitas non habet legem.
Florus did beate his Cooke, and gan to sweare,
Because his meate was rotten roasted there:
Peace good sir, quoth the Cook, need hath no law,
'Tis rotten rosted, 'cause 'twas rotten raw.
In deauriculatum.
Thraso vpon a pillar lost his eare,
And euer since he hid that place with haire;
Now least you
Thraso, or his friend would be,
Cut off your lockes, that we your eares may see.
Iri Paupertas.
Irus vsing to lie vpon the ground,
One morning vnder him a feather found;
Haue I all night here laine so hard (quoth he)
Hauing but one poore feather vnder me?
I wonder much then how they take their ease,
That night by night lies on a bed of these.
In malam vxorem.
Priscus was weeping when his wife did die,
Yet he was then in better case then I,
I should be merry, and should thinke to thriue,
Had I but his dead wife for mine aliue.
Aenigma.
As
Sextus once was opening of a nut,
With a sharpe knife his finger deepely cut,
What signe is this quoth he, can any tell,
'Tis signe, quoth one, you haue cut your finger well:
Not so, saith he, for now my finger's sore,
And I am sure that it was well before.
De Paupertate Codri.
Codrus did serue a multitude with meate:
Yet he himselfe had nothing for to eate:
Some men may thinke this frolicke misery,
Or miserable liberalitie.
Vermine did reede on him, when he perhaps
Did either feed on nothing or on scraps.
In Philogastrum.
Craesus is rich, and gallant, faire, and fat,
Codrus thou art but poore, and what to that?
When he is dead, tell
Craesus this from me,
More wormes will feed on him, then will on thee.
In quendam Petatorem.
Bid
Gnatho heare a Sermon, then hee'le say,
Hee's a dry fellow that doth preach to day;
But hee's a drier Fellow sure, I thinke,
That ne're has from his nose a pot of drinke.
In eundem.
Gnatho did sweare that he would drinke no moe,
Flinging the beere away cause it run loe;
Nay faith, saies one, it is a sinne to spil't,
For that is noble beere that runnes at tilt.
De Casto amore.
Many accuse me cause I could doe nothing,
Many accuse' me 'cause I was a slow thing;
But soft my Masters, I was politicke:
For had not I beene slow, shee had beene quicke.
Ad Cornutum.
Cornutus call'd his wife both whore and slut.
Quoth she, youl'e neuer leaue your brawling, but;
But what, quoth he? quoth she, the post or doore:
For you haue hornes to but, if I'me a whoore.
An Epigram.
The Shopmen Gallant go, and spruse they are,
And giue their Workmen what they list for ware,
They drinke good wine, they feed vpon anchoues,
Sic vos non vobis, fertis aratra boues.
An Epigram.
When I in Presse saw these things, not long since
I iudg'd they had beene tried by the bench;
For if the Iurie once had gone vpon them,
Lesse they'd beene hang'd or burn'd, what had come on them.
Ad
[...] F.
Since you your selfe did breake, you cunning are,
Cozening your kindred thus with broken ware.
Ad M. P.
Six yeeres I was a Seruant vnto thee,
Had I seru'd one yeere more, I had beene free;
But since you got me once vpon the hippe,
You turn'd me off, before my Prentiship.
An Epigram.
Cmna loued
Rosa well, thinking her pure,
And was not quiet till he made her sure,
She married yet another, but the end
Is this; shee's
Cinnaes wife, the others friend.
Ad quosdam Academicos.
You that so many precious houres loose,
Fall close vnto your studie; let your Muse
Thinke vpon nought but goodnes. Starue & pine,
Before an houre passe without a line.
For euen as the riuer ebs and flowes,
This trash and earthly treasure, comes and goes,
But learning lasts vntill the day of doome,
Sea cannot sinke it, nor fire it consume,
What if thy friends, thee meate, nor money send,
Spend thy time well, though hast enough to spend,
What if thou beest, by chaunce in prison cast,
'Mongst those that are in want, thou'lt find a waste.
Nay one may come, thy face that nere did see.
And set thee out, as one deliuer'd mee.
A Loue Sonnet.
I Loued a Lasse a faire one,
As faire as e're was seene,
Shee was indeed a rare one,
Another
Sheba Queene.
But foole as then I was,
I thought she lou'd me too,
But now alas sh's left me;
Falero, lero, loo.
Her haire like gold did glister,
Each eye was a starre,
Shee did surpasse her sister,
Which past all others farre.
She would me hony call,
Shee'd-O-shee'd kisse me too,
But now alas sh'as left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
In Summer-time to
Medley
My loue and I would goe,
The boate-men there stood ready,
My loue and I to rowe:
For creame there would we call,
For cakes, for pruines too,
But now alas sh'as left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
Many a merrie meeting
My loue and I haue had,
Shee was my onely sweeting,
Shee made my heart full glad,
The teares stood in her eies
Like to the morning dew,
But now alas sh'as left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
And as abroad we walked,
As Louers fashion is,
Oft we sweetly talked,
The Sun would steale a kisse:
The winde vpon her lips
Likewise most sweetly blew,
But now alas sh'as left mee,
Falero, lero, loo.
Her cheekes were like the cherry,
Her skin as white as snow,
When she was blithe and merry,
She Angell-like did shew:
Her waste exceeding small,
The fiues did fit her shooe,
But now alas sh'as left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
In summer-time or winter
She had her hearts desire,
I still did scorne to stint her
From sugar, sacke, or fire:
The world went round about,
No cares we euer knew,
But now alas sh'as left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
As we walk'd home together
At midnight, through the towne,
To keepe away the weather,
O're her i'de cast my gowne:
No cold my Loue should feele,
What e're the heau'ns could doe.
But now alas sh'as left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
Like Doues we would be billing,
And clip and kisse so fast,
Yet she would be vnwilling,
That I should kisse the last:
They're
Iudas kisses now,
Since they prou'd all vntrue,
For now alas sh'as left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
To Maidens vowes and swearing,
Henceforth no credit giue,
You may giue them the hearing,
But neuer them beleeue;
They are as false as faire,
Vnconstant, fraile, vntrue,
For mine alas has left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
'Twas I that paid for all things,
'Twas others dranke the wine,
I cannot now recall things,
Liue but a foole to pine:
'Twas I that beate the bush,
The bird to others flew,
For she alas has left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
If euer that Dame nature,
For this false Louers sake,
Another pleasing creature,
Like vnto her would make;
Let her remember this.
To make the other true,
For this alas hath left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
No riches now can raise me,
No want makes me despaire,
No miserie amaze me,
Nor yet for want I care:
I haue lost a world it selfe,
My earthly heauen adue,
Since she alas hath left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
To his Loue fearing a Corriuall.
THe poisnous Spider, and the labouring Bee,
The one and selfe-same flower daily suckes;
But yet in nature much they disagree,
For poison one, the other hony pluckes.
You are the flower (you know my meaning,) he
The poisnous Spider is, and I the Bee.
But if you like that swelling creature best,
Whose onely trap can but insnare a flie;
I'le leaue my writing, and I'le liue in rest,
Vntill another Loue can like my eie.
But, if you leauing me, me none can please,
I'le lingering liue in paine, I'le pine in ease.
I am the Bee, if thou wilt be the Hiue,
Wherein no blacke nor poisnous moisture lies;
I'le be a painefull Bee, I'le daily striue,
Home to returne to thee with loaden thighes:
And in the winter, when all flowers perish,
The hiue the Bee, the Bee the hiue shall cherish.
'Tis not your fringe, your gloues, your bands, your lace,
Your gold, your fathers goods that I desire;
But 'tis your golden haire, your comely face,
'Tis that, O that, that sets my heart on fire:
Your hands, your heart, your loue, your comely hue.
Makes me forget my selfe, remembring you.
O that I were a hat for such a head!
O that I were a gloue for such a hand!
O that I were your sheetes within your bed!
O that I were your shooe whereon you stand!
To be your very smocke! I'de daily seeke,
So that you would not shift me once a weeke,
Another to his Loue seeing her walke in twi-light.
THe deepest waters haue the smoothest looks,
The fairest shirt may hide the foulest skin:
Bad lines are often writ in guilded bookes,
View not the outside then, but looke within:
Try ere you trust, and if all things be true,
Locke hands in hands, and seeke not for a new.
I must confesse, and will, I am but poore,
But rich I am in loue, perhaps you know:
But if you to some higher region soare,
Disdaining for to take your flight so lowe,
Take heed lest by some vehemencie of wether,
You chance to burn some, or scorch some other.
But tell me sweet, if that thy minde be set
Vpon some other man; or if you know
What thing this Loue should be, if not as yet,
Ile teach you what a thing is loue; O no:
What thing is loue? how can you learne of
[...]e,
When first I learn'd to loue by seeing thee?
The pretty winding of thy comely head,
The decent rowling of thy liuely eie,
Thy tender lilly hand, hath strucke me dead
Without a touch. Now what is Loue? T'is I,
T'is you, t'is I, t'is you, t'is both together,
You loue, I loue, both loues, sweete loue come hither.
I cast an eye vpon you yester-night,
But
Phoebus Horses went too great a pace,
Vnwilling to afford me so much light,
Wherein I plainely might discerne your face:
In spite of
Phoebus, nay in spite of you.
I'le looke, I'le loue, t'is somwhat strange, but true.
Desiring an Answer from his loue.
IF that I am vnworthy of your loue.
Let me be worthy of your answer yet,
That I may know whether I must remoue
My deare affection from you now, and set
My minde vpon my bookes, which now I feare
I spend in Loue toyes, and am n'ere the neere.
Prethee sweet Loue, some prettie thing Indite,
Let those thy prettie fingers hold a Pen;
Vpon some pretty peece of paper write,
Nature made Maidens pretty, and not men.
What
Midas toucht was gold; you are so witty
That what you write, or touch, or do, 'tis prettie.
If you want paper, paper will I send you,
If you want Inke, I'le likewise send you Inke;
If that you want a Pen, a Pen Ile lend you,
What ere t'is you want, if that I can but thinke:
What 'tis, I'de freely giue it to you, so
You would but send an answer, I, or no.
I doe not write to thee for hope of gaines,
But onely for to gaine thy loue; so then
I prethee
Rosa take a little paines;
Once more I prethee
Rosa hold a Pen:
I long to heare from thee, I faine would know,
An answer from thee quickly, I, or no.
If it be I, then
Rosa thou art mine,
Then will we spend our youthful daies in pleasures
If it be No, yet
Rosa am I thine:
What ere thy answere is, thou art my treasure.
If that (sweet heart) youl'd know the reason why,
It is, because a Maidens No, is I.
¶ An Answere to her Answer.
SWeete Mistris
Rosa, for whose onely sake
I'de run through fire and water, nay I'de make
A iourney through the dangerous vncuth places,
I'de measure all the world with weary paces
To doe you good: nay more, I'de lose my heart,
Rather then haue your little finger smart:
But when you chance to read the same, I flatter
You then will say; but oh, it is no matter,
Mock, flout, neglect, disdain, spit, spite, contemne,
I needs must loue my earthly Diadem.
I stouted others once in miserie,
But other men may now well flout at me;
This is that dire and cursed punishment,
Which all the gods aboue to me hath sent
For all my faults, O see with pitty see,
Sweet Loue, thy loue in wofull miserie,
Whose eies ne're sleepes, whose fancie still is doing
Since that he knew what did belong to wooing:
Thou art the
Clothe that hath spun my thred,
By which I seeme to liue, but yet am dead.
But prethee
Rosa, if thoul't stop thy breath,
Kill quicke, let me not liue a lingring death:
Pitty, pitty, pitty, pitty, pitty.
Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty,
Sweet, golden, lilly, liuely, tender maide,
Looke, like, liue, loue me well, and I am made.
To his second Loue.
TWixt hope & feare, I feare (sweet Loue) I liue,
Thinking my heart was giuen long agoe;
Being one man, has but one heart to giue,
How can you looke for mine, yet thinke not so?
But trie me, trust me, and sweet heart, you'le see,
I haue a heart that's onely kept for thee.
Misdoubt me not although I lou'd before,
Misdoubt me not, but I lou'd faithfully;
Experience makes me now loue ten-times more,
I haue my lesson now without booke, I:
When first I lou'd I was a fondling foole,
Now I am a Captaine made in
Cupids schoole.
You smil'd on me, but if you'le smile no more,
What will those men that know me now furmise?
Being I was forsaken once before.
They'le thinke me hatefull in a Maidens eiet:
They'l thinke all hate me, or suppose indeed,
I onely came to wooe, but not to speed.
O how much am I bound to Nature now,
For making thee, that dost so farre excell
Her, whom I thought excell'd all others; how
Am I now bound to nature pre' thee tell.
The difference 'twixt my first loue, and you
Is this, shee's faire and false, thou faire and true.
Misdoubt me not, for by the Heauens aboue,
Thou shalt not finde me with a double tongue;
For if I am the man thou canst not loue,
I am the man that will doe thee no wrong.
For if I speake by thee but any euill,
Count me no more a Man, count me a Deuill.
Of the burning of his letter.
LIke as the Moath about the candle flies,
Hoping to haue some comfort from the light,
Scorcheth her wings, and on a sudden lies
Panting vpon the ground, or burned quite.
So I still hoping thee sweet heart to moue,
Consume my selfe in burning flames of loue.
Alas, alas, thy beautie shines so bright,
It duls and dazels all that doe come nie thee,
This is the cause I neuer come, but write.
Without an Eagles eye, how dare I eye thee?
Cupid is blinde; then I in louing thee,
And looking too, should be more blind then he.
Why doe I sigh, and sob, and broyle, and burne?
Why doe I seeke to striue against the streame?
Letters, nor loue, nor lookes, thy heart can turne,
Why doe I then make loue my onely theame?
I loue, you hate, I write; but what the better?
I burne in loue, and you doe burne my letter.
Poore harmelesse verses, what did ye commit?
Hard hearted
Flora how did they offend thee?
More verses haue I made for thee, but yet
Ile sweare thou shalt not burne the next Ile send thee.
Burning's too base a death, therefore the rest,
If they deserue to die, they shall be prest.
Master Johnsons answer to Master Withers.
Withers.
SHall I wasting in despaire,
Die because a woman's faire,
Or my cheekes make pale with care,
Cause anothers rosie are?
Be she fairer then the day,
Or the flowrie Meades in
May,
If she be not so to mee,
What care I how faire she be?
Iohnson.
Shall I mine affection slacke,
'Cause I see a woman's blacke,
Or my selfe with care cast downe,
'Cause I see a woman browne?
Be she blacker then the night,
Or the blackest iet in sight:
If she seeme not so to mee,
What care I how blacke shee be?
Withers.
Shall my foolish heart be pinde,
'Cause I see a woman's kinde,
Or a well disposed nature
Ioyned in a comely feature?
Be she kinde or meeker than
Turtle Doue, or Pellican;
If she be not so to mee,
What care I how kinde she be?
Iohnson.
Shall my foolish heart be burst,
'Cause I see a woman's curst,
Or a thwarting hoggish nature
Ioyned in as bad a feature;
Be she curst or fiercer then
Brutish Beast, or sauage Men:
If she be not so to mee,
What care I how curst shee be?
Withers.
Shall a womans vertues make,
Me to perish for her sake,
Or her merits value knowne
Make me quite forget my owne?
Be she with that goodnesse blest,
That may merit name of best:
If she seeme not so to mee,
What care I how good she be?
Iohnson.
Shall a womans vices make,
Me her vertues quite forsake,
Or her faults to me made knowne,
Make me thinke that I haue none?
Be shee of the most accurst,
And deserue the name of worst:
If she be not so to me,
What care I how bad she be?
Withers
Cause her fortunes seemes too high,
Should I play the foole and dye?
He that beares a noble minde,
If not outward helpe he find,
Thinke what with them he would do,
That without them dares to wooe.
And vnlesse that minde I see,
What care I how great she be.
Iohnson.
Cause her fortunes seemes too loe,
Shall I therefore let her goe?
He that beares an humble mind,
And with riches can be kinde,
Thinke how kinde a heart hee'd haue,
If he were some seruile slaue:
And if that same minde I see,
What care I how poore she be.
Withers.
Great, or good, or kind, or faire,
I will ne're the more dispaire,
If she loue me then beleeue,
I will die, ere she shall grieue,
If she slight me when I wooe,
I can slight, and bid her goe:
If she be not fit for me,
What care I for whom she be?
Iohnson.
Poore, or bad, or curst, or blacke,
I will nere the more be slacke,
If she hate me, then beleeue,
Shee shall die ere I will grieue,
If she like me when I wooe,
I can like and loue her too:
If that she be fit for me,
VVhat care I what others be?
To the Reader.
IT is a common custome now adayes,
For one to wright vpon anothers praise:
But I no Trumpets seeke, no sound of Drums,
No man for me shall make incomiums:
Their verses cannot make these verses better,
They will not mend a staffe, a line, a letter.
The cries of Ludgate.
NOble King
Lud, long heare hast thou stood,
Not framed of wood,
But of stones;
Stones sure thou art, like our creditors heart,
Which cares not a —.
For our grones
Within thy gates, the cry at thy grates,
Though it moues the states of this City:
Our calling, our bawling, our yawling it moues not,
Our Creditors hearts vnto pitty.
In caps, and in coates, with sorrowfull notes,
And tearing our throates
For reliefe:
Good, Sir, we cry, with a Box hanging by,
Heeres a hundred that lye
Full of griefe,
The Gallants ride on, and nere thinke vpon,
Our pitifull mone
Which we make,
But rumbling, and tumbling, and iumbling their Coaches,
The stones in the streetes they do shake.
Marchants that goe by the gate too and fro,
There hearts at our woe,
Seeme to shake,
Thinking what crosses, what griefe, & what losses,
When theire carackes to sea,
They take,
These men are best, remorse in their brest,
Doth harbour and rest
To the needy,
They roundly, profoundly, and soundly are giuing,
As if they to free them were greedy.
Others passe by, and cast vp an eye
Vpon that cry,
In disdaine,
Saying, that we, all quickly would be,
If now we were free, heere againe:
Let them take heede, that mock vs indeede,
And thus at our neede goe by giuing,
Tis so man, that no man, can know man his ending,
Though well he may know his beginning.
The Song of the Begger.
I Am a Rogue and a stout one,
A most couragious drinker,
I doe excell, t'is knowne full well,
The Ratter, Tom, and Tinker
Still doe I crie, good your Worship good Sir,
Bestow one small denire Sir,
And brauely then at the bousing can,
Ile bouse it all in beere Sir.
If a Bung be got by the hye Law,
Then straight I doe attend them,
For if Hue and cry do follow I,
A wrong way soone do send them.
Still do I cry, &c.
Ten miles vnto a Market,
I runne to meete a Miser,
Then in a throng, I nip his Bong,
And the Party nere the wiser.
Still do I cry, &c.
My dainty Dals, my Doxis,
When ere they see melacking,
Without delay poore wretches they,
Will set their Duds a packing.
Still do they cry, &c.
I pay for what I call for,
And so perforce it must be,
For as yet I cannot know the man,
Nor Oastis that will trust me.
Still do I cry, &c.
If any giues me lodging,
A courteous knaue they finde me,
For in their bed, aliue or dead,
I leaue some lice behinde me,
Still do I cry, &c.
If a gentry coe be comming,
Then straight it is our fashion,
My Leg I tye close to my thigh,
To mooue him to compassion.
Still doe I cry &c.
My dublet sleeue hangs empty,
And for to beg the boulder,
For meate and drink, mine arme I shrinke
Vp close vnto my shoulder.
Still do I cry, &c.
If a Coatch I heare be rumbling,
To my Crutches then I hve me,
For being lame, it is a shame,
Such Gallants should deny me.
Still do I c̄ry, &c.
With a seeming bursen belly,
I looke like one halfe dead sir,
Or else I begg with a wodden leg,
And a Night-cap on my head sir.
Still doe I cry, &c.
In Winter time starke naked,
I come into some City,
Then euery man that spare them can,
[...]ll giue me cloathes for pity.
Still do I cry, &c.
If from out the Low country,
I heare a Captaines name sir,
Then straight I sweare I haue beene there,
And so in fight came lame sir.
Still doe I cry, &c.
My Dog in a string doth leade me,
When in the towne I goe sir,
For to the blinde, all men are kinde,
And will their Almes bestow sir,
Still doe I cry, &c.
With switches sometimes stand I,
In the bottome of a Hill sir,
There those men which, do want a switch
Some mony giues me still sir,
Still do I cry, &c.
Come by, come by, a horne booke,
Who buyes my pins or needles:
In Cities I, these things do cry.
Oft times to scape the Beadles.
Still doe I cry, &c.
In Pauls Church by a Pillar,
Sometimes you see me stand sir,
With a writ that shewes what care & woes,
I past by Sea and Land sir.
Still doe I cry, &c.
Now blame me not for boasting,
And bragging thus a lone Sir,
For my selfe I will be praysing still,
For neighbours haue I none Sir:
Which makes me crie good your Worship good sir,
Bestow one small dinere Sir,
And brauely then at The bousing Kan,
I bouse it all in beere Sir.