No More Learning

803. TO SAPPHO.

Sappho, I will choose to go
Where the northern winds do blow
Endless ice and endless snow:
Rather than I once would see
But a winter's face in thee,
To benumb my hopes and me.


804. TO HIS FAITHFUL FRIEND, M. JOHN CROFTS, CUP-BEARER TO THE KING.

For all thy many courtesies to me,
Nothing I have, my Crofts, to send to thee
For the requital, save this only one
Half of my just remuneration.
For since I've travell'd all this realm throughout
To seek and find some few immortals out
To circumspangle this my spacious sphere,
As lamps for everlasting shining here;
And having fix'd thee in mine orb a star,
Amongst the rest, both bright and singular,
The present age will tell the world thou art,
If not to th' whole, yet satisfi'd in part.
As for the rest, being too great a sum
Here to be paid, I'll pay't i' th' world to come.


805. THE BRIDE-CAKE.

This day, my Julia, thou must make
For Mistress Bride the wedding-cake:
Knead but the dough, and it will be
To paste of almonds turn'd by thee:
Or kiss it thou but once or twice,
And for the bride-cake there'll be spice.


806. TO BE MERRY.

Let's now take our time
While w'are in our prime,
And old, old age is afar off:
For the evil, evil days
Will come on apace,
Before we can be aware of.


807. BURIAL.

Man may want land to live in; but for all
Nature finds out some place for burial.

808. LENITY.

'Tis the Chirurgeon's praise, and height of art,
Not to cut off, but cure the vicious part.


809. PENITENCE.

Who after his transgression doth repent,
Is half, or altogether innocent.


810. GRIEF.

Consider sorrows, how they are aright:
_Grief, if't be great, 'tis short; if long, 'tis light_.


811. THE MAIDEN-BLUSH.

So look the mornings when the sun
Paints them with fresh vermilion:
So cherries blush, and Kathern pears,
And apricots in youthful years:
So corals look more lovely red,
And rubies lately polished:
So purest diaper doth shine,
Stain'd by the beams of claret wine:
As Julia looks when she doth dress
Her either cheek with bashfulness.

_Kathern pears_, _i. e. _, Catharine pears.


812. THE MEAN.

_Imparity doth ever discord bring;
The mean the music makes in everything. _


813. HASTE HURTFUL.

_Haste is unhappy; what we rashly do
Is both unlucky, aye, and foolish, too.
Where war with rashness is attempted, there
The soldiers leave the field with equal fear. _


814. PURGATORY.

Readers, we entreat ye pray
For the soul of Lucia;
That in little time she be
From her purgatory free:
In the interim she desires
That your tears may cool her fires.


815. THE CLOUD.

Seest thou that cloud that rides in state,
Part ruby-like, part candidate?
It is no other than the bed
Where Venus sleeps half-smothered.

_Candidate_, robed in white.


817. THE AMBER BEAD.

I saw a fly within a bead
Of amber cleanly buried;
The urn was little, but the room
More rich than Cleopatra's tomb.


818. TO MY DEAREST SISTER, M. MERCY HERRICK.

Whene'er I go, or whatsoe'er befalls
Me in mine age, or foreign funerals,
This blessing I will leave thee, ere I go:
Prosper thy basket and therein thy dough.
Feed on the paste of filberts, or else knead
And bake the flour of amber for thy bread.
Balm may thy trees drop, and thy springs run oil,
And everlasting harvest crown thy soil!
These I but wish for; but thyself shall see
The blessing fall in mellow times on thee.


819. THE TRANSFIGURATION.

Immortal clothing I put on
So soon as, Julia, I am gone
To mine eternal mansion.
Thou, thou art here, to human sight
Cloth'd all with incorrupted light;
But yet how more admir'dly bright
Wilt thou appear, when thou art set
In thy refulgent thronelet,
That shin'st thus in thy counterfeit!


820. SUFFER THAT THOU CANST NOT SHIFT.

Does fortune rend thee? Bear with thy hard fate:
_Virtuous instructions ne'er are delicate_.
Say, does she frown? still countermand her threats:
_Virtue best loves those children that she beats_.


821. TO THE PASSENGER.

If I lie unburied, sir,
These my relics pray inter:
'Tis religion's part to see
Stones or turfs to cover me.
One word more I had to say:
But it skills not; go your way;
He that wants a burial room
_For a stone, has Heaven his tomb_.

_Religion's_, orig. ed. _religious_.


823. TO THE KING, UPON HIS TAKING OF LEICESTER.

This day is yours, great Charles! and in this war
Your fate, and ours, alike victorious are.
In her white stole now Victory does rest
_Ensphered with palm on your triumphant crest_.
Fortune is now your captive; other Kings
_Hold but her hands; you hold both hands and wings_.


824. TO JULIA, IN HER DAWN, OR DAYBREAK.

By the next kindling of the day,
My Julia, thou shalt see,
Ere Ave-Mary thou canst say
I'll come and visit thee.

Yet ere thou counsel'st with thy glass,
Appear thou to mine eyes
As smooth, and nak'd, as she that was
The prime of paradise.

If blush thou must, then blush thou through
A lawn, that thou mayst look
As purest pearls, or pebbles do
When peeping through a brook.

As lilies shrin'd in crystal, so
Do thou to me appear;
Or damask roses when they grow
To sweet acquaintance there.


825. COUNSEL.

'Twas Caesar's saying: _Kings no less conquerors are
By their wise counsel, than they be by war. _


826. BAD PRINCES PILL THE PEOPLE.

Like those infernal deities which eat
The best of all the sacrificed meat;
And leave their servants but the smoke and sweat:
So many kings, and primates too there are,
Who claim the fat and fleshy for their share
And leave their subjects but the starved ware.


827. MOST WORDS, LESS WORKS.

In desp'rate cases all, or most, are known
Commanders, few for execution.


828. TO DIANEME.

I could but see thee yesterday
Stung by a fretful bee;
And I the javelin suck'd away,
And heal'd the wound in thee.

A thousand thorns and briars and stings,
I have in my poor breast;
Yet ne'er can see that salve which brings
My passions any rest.

As love shall help me, I admire
How thou canst sit, and smile
To see me bleed, and not desire
To staunch the blood the while.

If thou, compos'd of gentle mould,
Art so unkind to me;
What dismal stories will be told
Of those that cruel be?

_Admire_, wonder.


830. HIS LOSS.

All has been plundered from me but my wit:
Fortune herself can lay no claim to it.


831. DRAW AND DRINK.

Milk still your fountains and your springs: for why?
The more th'are drawn, the less they will grow dry.


833. TO OENONE.

Thou say'st Love's dart
Hath pricked thy heart;
And thou dost languish too:
If one poor prick
Can make thee sick,
Say, what would many do?


836. TO ELECTRA.

Shall I go to Love and tell,
Thou art all turned icicle?
Shall I say her altars be
Disadorn'd and scorn'd by thee?
O beware! in time submit;
Love has yet no wrathful fit:
If her patience turns to ire,
Love is then consuming fire.


837. TO MISTRESS AMY POTTER.

Ay me! I love; give him your hand to kiss
Who both your wooer and your poet is.
Nature has precompos'd us both to love:
Your part's to grant; my scene must be to move.
Dear, can you like, and liking love your poet?
If you say "Aye," blush-guiltiness will show it.
Mine eyes must woo you, though I sigh the while:
_True love is tongueless as a crocodile_.
And you may find in love these different parts--
_Wooers have tongues of ice, but burning hearts_.


838. UPON A MAID.

Here she lies, in bed of spice,
Fair as Eve in Paradise:
For her beauty it was such
Poets could not praise too much.
Virgins, come, and in a ring
Her supremest requiem sing;
Then depart, but see ye tread
Lightly, lightly, o'er the dead.

_Supremest_, last.


839. UPON LOVE.

Love is a circle, and an endless sphere;
From good to good, revolving here and there.


840. BEAUTY.

Beauty's no other but a lovely grace
Of lively colours flowing from the face.


841. UPON LOVE.

Some salve to every sore we may apply;
Only for my wound there's no remedy.
Yet if my Julia kiss me, there will be
A sovereign balm found out to cure me.


844. TO HIS BOOK.

Make haste away, and let one be
A friendly patron unto thee:
Lest, rapt from hence, I see thee lie
Torn for the use of pastery:
Or see thy injur'd leaves serve well,
To make loose gowns for mackerel:
Or see the grocers in a trice,
Make hoods of thee to serve out spice.


845. READINESS.

The readiness of doing doth express
No other but the doer's willingness.


846. WRITING.

When words we want, Love teacheth to indite;
And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.


847. SOCIETY.

Two things do make society to stand:
The first commerce is, and the next command.


848. UPON A MAID.

Gone she is a long, long way,
But she has decreed a day
Back to come, and make no stay:
So we keep, till her return,
Here, her ashes, or her urn.


849. SATISFACTION FOR SUFFERINGS.

For all our works a recompense is sure:
_'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t' endure_.


850. THE DELAYING BRIDE.

Why so slowly do you move
To the centre of your love?
On your niceness though we wait,
Yet the hours say 'tis late:
_Coyness takes us, to a measure;
But o'eracted deads the pleasure. _
Go to bed, and care not when
Cheerful day shall spring again.
One brave captain did command,
By his word, the sun to stand:
One short charm, if you but say,
Will enforce the moon to stay,
Till you warn her hence, away,
T' have your blushes seen by day.

_Niceness_, delicacy.


851. TO M. HENRY LAWES, THE EXCELLENT COMPOSER OF HIS LYRICS.

Touch but thy lyre, my Harry, and I hear
From thee some raptures of the rare Gotiere;
Then if thy voice commingle with the string,
I hear in thee rare Laniere to sing;
Or curious Wilson: tell me, canst thou be
Less than Apollo, that usurp'st such three?
Three, unto whom the whole world give applause;
Yet their three praises praise but one; that's Lawes.

_Gotiere_, Wilson, see above, 111.
_Laniere_, Nicholas Laniere (1590? -1670? ), musician and painter,
appointed Master of the King's Music in 1626.


852. AGE UNFIT FOR LOVE.

Maidens tell me I am old;
Let me in my glass behold
Whether smooth or not I be,
Or if hair remains to me.
Well, or be't or be't not so,
This for certainty I know,
Ill it fits old men to play,
When that Death bids come away.


853. THE BEDMAN, OR GRAVEMAKER.

Thou hast made many houses for the dead;
When my lot calls me to be buried,
For love or pity, prithee let there be
I' th' churchyard made one tenement for me.


854. TO ANTHEA.

Anthea, I am going hence
With some small stock of innocence:
But yet those blessed gates I see
Withstanding entrance unto me.
To pray for me do thou begin,
The porter then will let me in.


855. NEED.

Who begs to die for fear of human need,
Wisheth his body, not his soul, good speed.


856. TO JULIA.

I am zealless; prithee pray
For my welfare, Julia,
For I think the gods require
Male perfumes, but female fire.

_Male perfumes_, perfumes of the best kind.


857. ON JULIA'S LIPS.

Sweet are my Julia's lips and clean,
As if o'erwashed in Hippocrene.


858. TWILIGHT.
Twilight no other thing is, poets say,
Than the last part of night and first of day.


859. TO HIS FRIEND, MR. J. JINCKS.

Love, love me now, because I place
Thee here among my righteous race:
The bastard slips may droop and die
Wanting both root and earth; but thy
Immortal self shall boldly trust
To live for ever with my Just.

_With my Just_, cp. 664.


860. ON HIMSELF.

If that my fate has now fulfill'd my year,
And so soon stopt my longer living here;
What was't, ye gods, a dying man to save,
But while he met with his paternal grave!
Though while we living 'bout the world do roam,
We love to rest in peaceful urns at home,
Where we may snug, and close together lie
By the dead bones of our dear ancestry.


861. KINGS AND TYRANTS.

'Twixt kings and tyrants there's this difference known:
_Kings seek their subjects' good, tyrants their own_.


862. CROSSES.

Our crosses are no other than the rods,
And our diseases, vultures of the gods:
Each grief we feel, that likewise is a kite
Sent forth by them, our flesh to eat, or bite.


863. UPON LOVE.

Love brought me to a silent grove
And show'd me there a tree,
Where some had hang'd themselves for love,
And gave a twist to me.

The halter was of silk and gold,
That he reach'd forth unto me;
No otherwise than if he would
By dainty things undo me.

He bade me then that necklace use;
And told me, too, he maketh
A glorious end by such a noose,
His death for love that taketh.

'Twas but a dream; but had I been
There really alone,
My desp'rate fears in love had seen
Mine execution.


864. NO DIFFERENCE I' TH' DARK.

Night makes no difference 'twixt the priest and clerk;
Joan as my lady is as good i' th' dark.


865. THE BODY.

The body is the soul's poor house or home,
Whose ribs the laths are, and whose flesh the loam.


866. TO SAPPHO.

Thou say'st thou lov'st me, Sappho; I say no;
But would to Love I could believe 'twas so!
Pardon my fears, sweet Sappho; I desire
That thou be righteous found, and I the liar.


867. OUT OF TIME, OUT OF TUNE.

We blame, nay, we despise her pains
That wets her garden when it rains:
But when the drought has dried the knot,
Then let her use the wat'ring-pot.
We pray for showers, at our need,
To drench, but not to drown our seed.

_Knot_, quaintly shaped flower-bed.


868. TO HIS BOOK.

Take mine advice, and go not near
Those faces, sour as vinegar.
For these, and nobler numbers can
Ne'er please the supercilious man.


869. TO HIS HONOURED FRIEND, SIR THOMAS HEALE.

Stand by the magic of my powerful rhymes
'Gainst all the indignation of the times.
Age shall not wrong thee; or one jot abate
Of thy both great and everlasting fate.
While others perish, here's thy life decreed,
Because begot of my immortal seed.


870. THE SACRIFICE, BY WAY OF DISCOURSE BETWIXT HIMSELF AND JULIA.

_Herr. _ Come and let's in solemn wise
Both address to sacrifice:
Old religion first commands
That we wash our hearts, and hands.
Is the beast exempt from stain,
Altar clean, no fire profane?
Are the garlands, is the nard
Ready here?

_Jul. _ All well prepar'd,
With the wine that must be shed,
'Twixt the horns, upon the head
Of the holy beast we bring
For our trespass-offering.

_Herr. _ All is well; now next to these
Put we on pure surplices;
And with chaplets crown'd, we'll roast
With perfumes the holocaust:
And, while we the gods invoke,
Read acceptance by the smoke.


871. TO APOLLO.

Thou mighty lord and master of the lyre,
Unshorn Apollo, come and re-inspire
My fingers so, the lyric-strings to move,
That I may play and sing a hymn to Love.


872. ON LOVE.

Love is a kind of war: hence those who fear!
No cowards must his royal ensigns bear.


873. ANOTHER.

Where love begins, there dead thy first desire:
_A spark neglected makes a mighty fire_.


874. A HYMN TO CUPID.

Thou, thou that bear'st the sway,
With whom the sea-nymphs play;
And Venus, every way:
When I embrace thy knee,
And make short pray'rs to thee,
In love then prosper me.
This day I go to woo;
Instruct me how to do
This work thou put'st me to.
From shame my face keep free;
From scorn I beg of thee,
Love, to deliver me:
So shall I sing thy praise,
And to thee altars raise,
Unto the end of days.


875. TO ELECTRA.

Let not thy tombstone e'er be laid by me:
Nor let my hearse be wept upon by thee:
But let that instant when thou diest be known
The minute of mine expiration.
One knell be rung for both; and let one grave
To hold us two an endless honour have.


876. HOW HIS SOUL CAME ENSNARED.

My soul would one day go and seek
For roses, and in Julia's cheek
A richesse of those sweets she found,
As in another Rosamond.
But gathering roses as she was,
Not knowing what would come to pass,
It chanc'd a ringlet of her hair
Caught my poor soul, as in a snare:
Which ever since has been in thrall;
Yet freedom she enjoys withal.

_Richesse_, wealth.


877. FACTIONS.

The factions of the great ones call,
To side with them, the commons all.


881. UPON JULIA'S HAIR BUNDLED UP IN A GOLDEN NET.

Tell me, what needs those rich deceits,
These golden toils, and trammel nets,
To take thine hairs when they are known
Already tame, and all thine own?
'Tis I am wild, and more than hairs
Deserve these meshes and those snares.
Set free thy tresses, let them flow
As airs do breathe or winds do blow:
And let such curious net-works be
Less set for them than spread for me.


883. THE SHOWER OF BLOSSOMS.

Love in a shower of blossoms came
Down, and half drown'd me with the same:
The blooms that fell were white and red;
But with such sweets commingled,
As whether--this I cannot tell--
My sight was pleas'd more, or my smell:
But true it was, as I roll'd there,
Without a thought of hurt or fear,
Love turn'd himself into a bee,
And with his javelin wounded me:
From which mishap this use I make,
_Where most sweets are, there lies a snake:
Kisses and favours are sweet things;
But those have thorns and these have stings. _


885. A DEFENCE FOR WOMEN.

Naught are all women: I say no,
Since for one bad, one good I know:
For Clytemnestra most unkind,
Loving Alcestis there we find:
For one Medea that was bad,
A good Penelope was had:
For wanton Lais, then we have
Chaste Lucrece, a wife as grave:
And thus through womankind we see
A good and bad. Sirs, credit me.


887. SLAVERY.

'Tis liberty to serve one lord; but he
Who many serves, serves base servility.


888. CHARMS.

Bring the holy crust of bread,
Lay it underneath the head;
'Tis a certain charm to keep
Hags away, while children sleep.


889. ANOTHER.

Let the superstitious wife
Near the child's heart lay a knife:
Point be up, and haft be down
(While she gossips in the town);
This, 'mongst other mystic charms,
Keeps the sleeping child from harms.


890. ANOTHER TO BRING IN THE WITCH.

To house the hag, you must do this:
Commix with meal a little piss
Of him bewitch'd; then forthwith make
A little wafer or a cake;
And this rawly bak'd will bring
The old hag in. No surer thing.


891. ANOTHER CHARM FOR STABLES.

Hang up hooks and shears to scare
Hence the hag that rides the mare,
Till they be all over wet
With the mire and the sweat:
This observ'd, the manes shall be
Of your horses all knot-free.


892. CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMAS EVE.

Down with the rosemary and bays,
Down with the mistletoe;
Instead of holly, now up-raise
The greener box, for show.

The holly hitherto did sway;
Let box now domineer
Until the dancing Easter day,
Or Easter's eve appear.

Then youthful box which now hath grace
Your houses to renew;
Grown old, surrender must his place
Unto the crisped yew.

When yew is out, then birch comes in,
And many flowers beside;
Both of a fresh and fragrant kin
To honour Whitsuntide.

Green rushes, then, and sweetest bents,
With cooler oaken boughs,
Come in for comely ornaments
To re-adorn the house.
Thus times do shift; each thing his turn does hold:
_New things succeed, as former things grow old_.

_Bents_, grasses.


893. THE CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMAS DAY.

Kindle the Christmas brand, and then
Till sunset let it burn;
Which quench'd, then lay it up again
Till Christmas next return.
Part must be kept wherewith to teend
The Christmas log next year,
And where 'tis safely kept, the fiend
Can do no mischief there.


894. UPON CANDLEMAS DAY.

End now the white loaf and the pie,
And let all sports with Christmas die.

_Teend_, kindle.


897. TO BIANCA, TO BLESS HIM.

Would I woo, and would I win?
Would I well my work begin?
Would I evermore be crowned
With the end that I propound?
Would I frustrate or prevent
All aspects malevolent?
Thwart all wizards, and with these
Dead all black contingencies:
Place my words and all works else
In most happy parallels?
All will prosper, if so be
I be kiss'd or bless'd by thee.


898. JULIA'S CHURCHING, OR PURIFICATION.

Put on thy holy filletings, and so
To th' temple with the sober midwife go.
Attended thus, in a most solemn wise,
By those who serve the child-bed mysteries,
Burn first thine incense; next, whenas thou see'st
The candid stole thrown o'er the pious priest,
With reverend curtsies come, and to him bring
Thy free (and not decurted) offering.
All rites well ended, with fair auspice come
(As to the breaking of a bride-cake) home,
Where ceremonious Hymen shall for thee
Provide a second epithalamy.
_She who keeps chastely to her husband's side
Is not for one, but every night his bride;
And stealing still with love and fear to bed,
Brings him not one, but many a maidenhead. _

_Candid_, white.
_Decurted_, curtailed.


899. TO HIS BOOK.

Before the press scarce one could see
A little-peeping-part of thee;
But since thou'rt printed, thou dost call
To show thy nakedness to all.
My care for thee is now the less,
Having resign'd thy shamefac'dness.
Go with thy faults and fates; yet stay
And take this sentence, then away:
Whom one belov'd will not suffice,
She'll run to all adulteries.


900. TEARS.

Tears most prevail; with tears, too, thou may'st move
Rocks to relent, and coyest maids to love.


901. TO HIS FRIEND TO AVOID CONTENTION OF WORDS.

Words beget anger; anger brings forth blows;
Blows make of dearest friends immortal foes.
For which prevention, sociate, let there be
Betwixt us two no more logomachy.
Far better 'twere for either to be mute,
Than for to murder friendship by dispute.

_Logomachy_, contention of words.


902. TRUTH.

Truth is best found out by the time and eyes;
_Falsehood wins credit by uncertainties_.


904. THE EYES BEFORE THE EARS.

We credit most our sight; one eye doth please
Our trust far more than ten ear-witnesses.


905. WANT.

Want is a softer wax, that takes thereon
This, that, and every base impression.


906. TO A FRIEND.

Look in my book, and herein see
Life endless signed to thee and me.
We o'er the tombs and fates shall fly;
While other generations die.


907. UPON M. WILLIAM LAWES, THE RARE MUSICIAN.

Should I not put on blacks, when each one here
Comes with his cypress and devotes a tear?
Should I not grieve, my Lawes, when every lute,
Viol, and voice is by thy loss struck mute?
Thy loss, brave man! whose numbers have been hurl'd,
And no less prais'd than spread throughout the world.
Some have thee call'd Amphion; some of us
Nam'd thee Terpander, or sweet Orpheus:
Some this, some that, but all in this agree,
Music had both her birth and death with thee.

_Blacks_, mourning garments.


908. A SONG UPON SILVIA.

From me my Silvia ran away,
And running therewithal
A primrose bank did cross her way,
And gave my love a fall.

But trust me now, I dare not say
What I by chance did see;
But such the drap'ry did betray
That fully ravished me.


909. THE HONEYCOMB.

If thou hast found an honeycomb,
Eat thou not all, but taste on some:
For if thou eat'st it to excess,
That sweetness turns to loathsomeness.
Taste it to temper, then 'twill be
Marrow and manna unto thee.


910. UPON BEN JONSON.

Here lies Jonson with the rest
Of the poets: but the best.
Reader, would'st thou more have known?
Ask his story, not this stone.
That will speak what this can't tell
Of his glory. So farewell.


911. AN ODE FOR HIM.

Ah Ben!
Say how, or when
Shall we thy guests
Meet at those lyric feasts
Made at the Sun,
The Dog, the Triple Tun?