No More Learning

Anchorae in effigiem Crux tandem desinit ipsam,
Anchora fit tandem Crux tolerata diu.
Hoc tamen ut fiat, Christo vegetatur ab ipso
Crux, et ab Affixo, est Anchora facta, Iesu. 10
Nec Natalitiis penitus serpentibus orbor,
Non ita dat Deus, ut auferat ante data.
Qua sapiens, Dos est; Qua terram lambit et ambit,
Pestis; At in nostra fit Medicina Cruce,
Serpens; fixa Cruci si sit Natura; Crucique 15
A fixo, nobis, Gratia tota fluat.
Omnia cum Crux sint, Crux Anchora facta, sigillum
Non tam dicendum hoc quam Catechismus erit.
Mitto nec exigua, exigua sub imagine, dona,
Pignora amicitiae, et munera; Vota, preces. 20
Plura tibi accumulet, sanctus cognominis, Ille
Regia qui flavo Dona sigillat Equo. _


[To M^r George Herbert _&c. _ _1650-69_, _in sheets added 1650:
two and a half lines in Walton's Life of Donne (1658): for
Herbert's reply see note Title:_--sent him with one _Walton_
(1670) Seal, _1650-69:_ Seales _Walton_]

[1 fasce] falce _Walton_]

[5 _fronti_] _fronte 1650-69_]

[17 _facta,_] _fixa,_ _1650-69_]

[19 Mitto] Mitto, _1650-69_]




A Sheafe of Snakes used heretofore to be
My Seal, The Crest of our poore Family.
Adopted in Gods Family, and so
Our old Coat lost, unto new armes I go.
The Crosse (my seal at Baptism) spred below, 5
Does, by that form, into an Anchor grow.
Crosses grow Anchors; Bear, as thou shouldst do
Thy Crosse, and that Crosse grows an Anchor too.
But he that makes our Crosses Anchors thus,
Is Christ, who there is crucifi'd for us. 10
Yet may I, with this, my first Serpents hold,
God gives new blessings, and yet leaves the old;
The Serpent, may, as wise, my pattern be;
My poison, as he feeds on dust, that's me.
And as he rounds the Earth to murder sure, 15
My death he is, but on the Crosse, my cure.
Crucifie nature then, and then implore
All Grace from him, crucified there before;
When all is Crosse, and that Crosse Anchor grown,
This Seal's a Catechism, not a Seal alone. 20
Under that little Seal great gifts I send,
<Wishes,> and prayers, pawns, and fruits of a friend.
And may that Saint which rides in our great Seal,
To you, who bear his name, great bounties deal.


[A sheafe _&c. _] _1650-69 and in Walton's_ Life of Donne
(1658), _in all of which and in all subsequent editions except
Grolier the first two lines are printed as a title, Walton
bracketing them_:--

A sheafe of Snakes used heretofore to be
_my Seal, The Crest of our poore Family_.
]

[4 Our . . . unto] My . . . into _Walton_]

[5 at] in _Walton_]

[11 with this I may _Walton_]

[15 to murder sure,] to murder, sure _Walton_]

[16 He is my death; _Walton_]

[22 Wishes, _Ed_: Works, _1650-69_: Both works _Walton_: Lat.
_vota_]

[23-4

Oh may that Saint that rides on our great Seal,
To you that bear his name large bounty deal.

_Walton_.
]




Translated out of _Gazaeus_, _Vota Amico facta_. _fol. _ 160.

God grant thee thine own wish, and grant thee mine,
Thou, who dost, best friend, in best things outshine;
May thy soul, ever chearfull, nere know cares,
Nor thy life, ever lively, know gray haires.
Nor thy hand, ever open, know base holds, 5
Nor thy purse, ever plump, know pleits, or folds.
Nor thy tongue, ever true, know a false thing,
Nor thy word, ever mild, know quarrelling.
Nor thy works, ever equall, know disguise,
Nor thy fame, ever pure, know contumelies. 10
Nor thy prayers, know low objects, still Divine;
God grant thee thine own wish, and grant thee mine.

Translated _&c. _] _1650-69_, _in sheets added 1650_: _for
original see note_]




APPENDIX B.




POEMS WHICH HAVE BEEN ATTRIBUTED
TO JOHN DONNE IN THE OLD EDITIONS
AND THE PRINCIPAL MS. COLLEC-
TIONS, ARRANGED ACCORDING
TO THEIR PROBABLE
AUTHORS.


I.


POEMS

PROBABLY BY SIR JOHN ROE, KNT.

_To S^{r} Nicholas Smyth. _

Sleep, next Society and true friendship,
Mans best contentment, doth securely slip
His passions and the worlds troubles. Rock me
O sleep, wean'd from my dear friends company,
In a cradle free from dreams or thoughts, there 5
Where poor men ly, for Kings asleep do fear.
Here sleeps House by famous Ariosto,
By silver-tongu'd Ovid, and many moe,
Perhaps by golden-mouth'd Spencer too pardie,
(Which builded was some dozen Stories high) 10
I had repair'd, but that it was so rotten,
As sleep awak'd by Ratts from thence was gotten:
And I will build no new, for by my Will,
Thy fathers house shall be the fairest still
In Excester. Yet, methinks, for all their Wit, 15
Those wits that say nothing, best describe it.
Without it there is no Sense, only in this
Sleep is unlike a long Parenthesis.
Not to save charges, but would I had slept
The time I spent in London, when I kept 20
Fighting and untrust gallants Company,
In which Natta, the new Knight, seized on me,
And offered me the experience he had bought
With great Expence. I found him throughly taught
In curing Burnes. His thing hath had more scars 25
Then Things himselfe; like Epps it often wars,
And still is hurt. For his Body and State
The Physick and Counsel which came too late,
'Gainst Whores and Dice, hee nowe on mee bestowes
Most superficially: hee speaks of those 30
(I found by him) least soundly who most knows:
He swears well, speakes ill, but best of Clothes,
What fits Summer, what Winter, what the Spring.
He had Living, but now these waies come in
His whole Revenues. Where each Whore now dwells, 35
And hath dwelt, since his fathers death, he tells.
Yea he tells most cunningly each hid cause
Why Whores forsake their Bawds. To these some Laws
He knows of the Duello, and touch his Skill
The least lot in that or those he quarrell will, 40
Though sober; but so never fought. I know
What made his Valour, undubb'd, Windmill go,
Within a Pint at most: yet for all this
(Which is most strange) Natta thinks no man is
More honest than himself. Thus men may want 45
Conscience, whilst being brought up ignorant,
They use themselves to vice. And besides those
Illiberal Arts forenam'd, no Vicar knows,
Nor other Captain less then he; His Schools
Are Ordinaries, where civil men seem fools, 50
Or are for being there; His best bookes, Plaies,
Where, meeting godly Scenes, perhaps he praies.
His first set prayer was for his father, ill
And sick, that he might dye: That had, until
The Lands were gone, he troubled God no more: 55
And then ask'd him but his Right, That the whore
Whom he had kept, might now keep him: She spent,
They left each other on even terms; she went
To Bridewel, he unto the Wars, where want
Hath made him valiant, and a Lieutenant 60
He is become: Where, as they pass apace,
He steps aside, and for his Captains place
He praies again: Tells God, he will confess
His sins, swear, drink, dice and whore thenceforth less,
On this Condition, that his Captain dye 65
And he succeed; But his Prayer did not; They
Both cashir'd came home, and he is braver now
Than'his captain: all men wonder, few know how.
Can he rob? No. Cheat? No. Or doth he spend
His own? No. Fidus, he is thy dear friend, 70
That keeps him up. I would thou wert thine own,
Or thou'hadst as good a friend as thou art one.
No present Want nor future hope made me,
Desire (as once I did) thy friend to be:
But he had cruelly possest thee then, 75
And as our Neighbours the Low-Country men,
Being (whilst they were Loyal, with Tyranny
Opprest) broke loose, have since refus'd to be
Subject to good Kings, I found even so,
Wer't thou well rid of him, thou't have no moe. 80
Could'st thou but chuse as well as love, to none
Thou should'st be second: Turtle and Damon
Should give thee place in songs, and Lovers sick
Should make thee only Loves Hieroglyphick:
Thy Impress should be the loving Elm and Vine, 85
Where now an ancient Oak, with Ivy twine
Destroy'd, thy Symbol is. O dire Mischance!
And, O vile verse! And yet your Abraham France
Writes thus, and jests not. Good Fidus for this
Must pardon me, Satyres bite when they kiss. 90
But as for Natta, we have since faln out:
Here on his knees he pray'd, else we had fought.
And because God would not he should be winner,
Nor yet would have the Death of such a sinner,
At his seeking, our Quarrel is deferr'd, 95
I'll leave him at his Prayers, and (as I heard)
His last; Fidus, and you, and I do know,
I was his friend, and durst have been his foe,
And would be either yet; But he dares be
Neither; Sleep blots him out and takes in thee. 100
"The mind, you know is like a Table-book,
Which, th'old unwipt, new writing never took.
Hear how the Huishers Checques, Cupbord and Fire
I pass'd; by which Degrees young men aspire
In Court; And how that idle and she-state, 105
Whenas my judgment cleer'd, my soul did hate;
How I found there (if that my trifling Pen
Durst take so hard a Task) Kings were but men,
And by their Place more noted, if they erre;
How they and their Lords unworthy men prefer; 110
And, as unthrifts had rather give away
Great Summs to flatterers, than small debts pay,
So they their weakness hide, and greatness show,
By giving them that which to worth they owe:
What Treason is, and what did Essex kill, 115
Not true Treason, but Treason handled ill;
And which of them stood for their Countries good,
Or what might be the Cause of so much Blood.
He said she stunck, and men might not have said
That she was old before that she was dead. 120
His Case was hard, to do or suffer; loth
To do, he made it harder, and did both.
Too much preparing lost them all their Lives,
Like some in Plagues kill'd with preservatives.
Friends, like land-souldiers in a storm at Sea, 125
Not knowing what to do, for him did pray.
They told it all the world; where was their wit?
Cuffs putting on a sword, might have told it.
And Princes must fear Favorites more then Foes,
For still beyond Revenge Ambition goes. 130
How since Her death, with Sumpter-horse that Scot
Hath rid, who, at his coming up, had not
A Sumpter-dog. But till that I can write
Things worth thy Tenth reading (dear Nick) goodnight.


[To S^{r} Nicholas Smyth. _Ed_: Satyra Sexta. To S^{r} _&c. _
_S_: Satires to S^{r} Nic: Smith. 1602 _B_: A Satire: to S^{r}
Nicholas Smith. 1602, _L74_: A Satyricall Letter to S^{r}
Nich: Smith. Quere, if Donnes or S^{r} Th: Rowes. _O'F_: _no
title_ _N_, _TCD_ (_JR in margin_): Satyre VI. _1669_ (_on
which the present text is based_)]

[1 Sleep, next] Sleep next, _1669_]

[2 slip _1669_, _S_: skipp _B_, _L74_, _N_, _O'F_, _TCD_. _In
1669 full stops after slip and rock me and no stop after
troubles_]

[3 Rock] rock _1669_]

[4 my _MSS. _: thy _1669_]

[6 asleep] all sleap _B_]

[9 golden-mouth'd] gold-mouth'd _B_, _S_]

[14 still] still. _1669_]

[25 hath had _L74_, _N_, _O'F_, _S_, _TCD_: had had _1669_:
had _B_]

[26 Things _B_, _L74_, _N_, _O'F_, _S_, _TCD_: T _1669_]

[28-31 _text from B_, _L74_, _N_, _O'F_, _S_, _TCD_, _which
bracket which . . . late_: _see note_:

The Physick and Councel (which came too late
'Gainst Whores and Dice) he now on me bestows:
Most superficially he speaks of those.
I found, by him, least sound him who most knows.

_1669_
]

[33 what Winter] what What Winter _1669_]

[35 each _B_, _L74_, _N_, _O'F_, _S_, _TCD_: his _1669_]

[37 cunningly _1669_, _L74_, _N_, _TCD_: perfectly _B_, _O'F_,
_S_]

[39 Duello, _B_, _N_, _O'F_, _S_, _TCD_: Duel, _1669_

touch _B_, _L74_, _O'F_, _S_: on _1669_: only _N_, _TCD_]

[40 those _B_, _L74_, _O'F_: these _1669_]

[41 but so never fought. _B_, _L74_, _O'F_, _S_ (soe as),
_TCD_ (nere): but nere fought. _1669_]

[42 Valour, undubb'd, Windmill go, _Ed_: Valour undubd
Windmill go. _1669_: valours undubb'd Wine-mill go. _L74_,
_N_, _TCD_: his undouted valour windmill goe. _B_: his
undaunted valour windmill goe. _O'F_, _S_]

[45 want] vaunt _S_]

[47 besides] except _B_, _O'F_, _S_]

[49 he; _Ed_: he, _1669_]

[53 father, ill] fathers ill, _1669_]

[65 his] if his _1669_]

[66 succeed; _Ed_: succeed, _1669_

They _Ed_: they _1669_]

[68 Than'his _Ed_: Than his _1669_: Then's _N_, _TCD_

how. _Ed_: how, _1669_]

[69 Or _Ed_: or _1669_]

[72 thou'hadst _L74_, _N_, _TCD_: thou hadst _1669_]

[81 love, _Ed_: love _1669_]

[82 Damon] damon _1669_]

[83 thee] the _1669_]

[86-7 Oak, with Ivy twine Destroy'd, thy Symbol is. _L74_,
_N_, _TCD_: Oak with Ivy twine, Destroy'd thy Symbole
is. _1669_: Oak with ivy twine. Destroy'd thy symbol is!
_Chambers_]

[87 Mischance! ] Mischance? _1669_]

[88 your _B_, _L74_, _N_, _S_, _TCD_: our _1669_]

[92 knees] knees, _1669_]

[97 Fidus, and you, and I _N_, _TCD_: and Fidus, you and I
_1669_: Fidus, and you, and he _B_, _L74_, _O'F_, _S_]

[100 Neither; _L74_, _N_, _O'F_, _S_, _TCD_: Neither yet.
_1669_

Sleep] sleep _1669_]

[102 Which, th'old unwipt, _B_, _O'F_, _S_, _TCD_: "The old
unwipt _1669_]

[104-6 _1669 has colon after pass'd, brackets by which
. . . Court and Whenas . . . cleer'd, and places comma after
hate_]

[107 there (if that _1669_: then that (if _B_, _O'F_, _S_]

[111 And, as unthrifts _Ed_: And, as unthrifts, _1669_,
_Chambers_]

[112 pay, _Ed_: pay; _1669_: pay. _Chambers_]

[113 weakness _B_, _L74_, _O'F_, _S_: greatness _1669_, _N_,
_TCD_]

[116 ill; _Ed_: ill: _1669_]

[118 Blood. _Ed_: Blood; _1669_]

[121 hard, _Ed_: hard _1669_]

[122 both. _Ed_: both _1669_]

[127 world; _Ed_: world, _1669_]

[132 Hath rid,] Doth ryde, _B_]

[133 till that _1669_: till _N_, _TCD_: untill _B_, _O'F_,
_S_]




_Satyre. _

Men write that love and reason disagree,
But I ne'r saw't exprest as 'tis in thee.
Well, I may lead thee, God must make thee see,
But, thine eyes blinde too, there's no hope for thee.
Thou say'st shee's wise and witty, faire and free, 5
All these are reasons why she should scorne thee.
Thou dost protest thy love, and wouldst it shew
By matching her as she would match her foe:
And wouldst perswade her to a worse offence,
Then that whereof thou didst accuse her wench. 10
Reason there's none for thee, but thou may'st vexe
Her with example. Say, for feare her sexe
Shunne her, she needs must change; I doe not see
How reason e'r can bring that _must_ to thee.
Thou art a match a Iustice to rejoyce, 15
Fit to be his, and not his daughters choyce.
Urg'd with his threats shee'd scarcely stay with thee,
And wouldst th'have this to chuse thee, being free?
Goe then and punish some soone-gotten stuffe,
For her dead husband this hath mourn'd enough, 20
In hating thee. Thou maist one like this meet;
For spight take her, prove kinde, make thy breath sweet,
Let her see she hath cause, and to bring to thee
Honest children, let her dishonest bee.
If shee be a widow, I'll warrant her 25
Shee'll thee before her first husband preferre,
And will wish thou hadst had her maidenhead;
Shee'll love thee so, for then thou hadst bin dead.
But thou such strong love, and weake reasons hast,
Thou must thrive there, or ever live disgrac'd. 30
Yet pause a while; and thou maist live to see
A time to come, wherein she may beg thee;
If thou'lt not pause nor change, she'll beg thee now.
Doe what she can, love for nothing shee'll allow.
Besides, her<s> were too much gaine and merchandise, 35
And when thou art rewarded, desert dies.
Now thou hast odds of him she loves, he may doubt
Her constancy, but none can put thee out.
Againe, be thy love true, shee'll prove divine,
And in the end the good on't will be thine: 40
For thou must never think on other love,
And so wilt advance her as high above
Vertue as cause above effect can bee:
'Tis vertue to be chast, which shee'll make thee.


[Satyre. _B_, _O'F_: A Satire: upon one who was his Rivall
in a widdowes Love. _A10_: Satyre VI. _1635-54_: Satyre. VII.
_1669_ (_where Satyre VI. is Sleep, next Society &c. _)]

[4 thine eyes _1635-69_: thy eye's _A10_]

[11 thee,] the, _1669_]

[13 she needs must change; I _1635-69_: she must change, yet I
_A10_]

[16 and _1635-69_: but _B_]

[17 Urg'd _A10_, _B_, _O'F_: Dry'd _1635-69_]

[19 some] _1635 duplicates_]

[22 sweet, _1639-69_: sweet. _1635_]

[27 maidenhead; _Ed_: maidenhead, _1635-69_]

[28 (Shee'll love thee so) for, _1635-69_]

[29 strong] firm _A10_]

[32 thee; _Grosart_: thee. _1635-69_]

[33 now. _Grosart_: now, _1635-69_]

[34 love for nothing shee'll _1635-69_: she'le love for nought
_A10_]

[35 Besides, hers _Ed_: Besides, here _1635-69_: But hers
_A10_: Besides her _O'F_]

[38-9 out. Againe, _1635-69_: out Againe; _A10_]

[40 And in _1635-69_: And yet in _A10_

thine: _Ed_: thine. _1635-69_]

[41 For thou must never think on _H-K_ (_Grosart_): And thou
must never think on, _A10_: For though thou must ne'r thinke
of _1635-69_]

[42 And so wilt advance her _1635-69_: For that will her
advance _A10_]

[43 bee: _Ed_: bee, _1635-69_]




AN ELEGIE.

_Reflecting on his passion for his mistrisse. _

Come, Fates; I feare you not. All whom I owe
Are paid, but you. Then rest me ere I goe.
But, Chance from you all soveraignty hath got,
Love woundeth none but those whom death dares not;
Else, if you were, and just, in equitie 5
I should have vanquish'd her, as you did me.
Else Lovers should not brave death's pains, and live,
But 'tis a rule, _Death comes not to relieve_.
Or, pale and wan deaths terrours, are they lay'd
So deepe in Lovers, they make death afraid? 10
Or (the least comfort) have I company?
Orecame she Fates, Love, Death, as well as mee?
Yes, Fates doe silke unto her distaffe pay,
For their ransome, which taxe on us they laye.
Love gives her youth, which is the reason why 15
Youths, for her sake, some wither and some die.
Poore Death can nothing give; yet, for her sake,
Still in her turne, he doth a Lover take:
And if Death should prove false, she feares him not;
Our Muses, to redeeme her she hath got. 20
That fatall night wee last kiss'd, I thus pray'd,
Or rather, thus despair'd; I should have said:
Kisses, and yet despaire? The forbid tree
Did promise (and deceive) no more then shee.
Like Lambs that see their teats, and must eat Hay, 25
A food, whose tast hath made me pine away.
_Dives_, when thou saw'st blisse, and crav'dst to touch
A drop of water, thy great paines were such.
Here griefe wants a fresh wit, for mine being spent,
And my sighes weary, groanes are all my rent; 30
Vnable longer to indure the paine,
They breake like thunder, and doe bring down rain.
Thus, till dry teares soulder mine eyes, I weepe;
And then, I dreame, how you securely sleepe,
And in your dreames doe laugh at me. I hate, 35
And pray Love, All may: He pitties my state,
But sayes, I therein no revenge should finde;
The Sunne would shine, though all the world were blind.
Yet, to trie my hate, Love shew'd me your teare;
And I had dy'd, had not your smile beene there. 40
Your frowne undoes me; your smile is my wealth;
And as you please to looke, I have my health.
Me thought, Love pittying me, when he saw this,
Gave me your hands, the backs and palmes to kisse.
That cur'd me not, but to beare paine gave strength, 45
And what it lost in force, it tooke in length.
I call'd on Love againe, who fear'd you so,
That his compassion still prov'd greater woe;
For, then I dream'd I was in bed with you,
But durst not feele, for feare't should not prove true. 50
This merits not your anger, had it beene,
The Queene of Chastitie was naked seene;
And in bed, not to feele, the paine I tooke,
Was more then for _Actaeon_ not to looke.
And that brest which lay ope, I did not know, 55
But for the clearnesse, from a lump of snowe,
Nor that sweet teat which on the top it bore
From the rose-bud, which for my sake you wore.
These griefs to issue forth, by verse, I prove,
Or turne their course, by travaile, or new love: 60
All would not doe. The best at last I tryde:
Unable longer to hould out I dyed.
And then I found I lost life, death by flying:
Who hundreds live are but soe long a dying.
Charon did let me passe: I'le him requite. 65
To marke the groves or shades wrongs my delight.
I'le speake but of those ghosts I found alone,
Those thousand ghosts, whereof myself made one,
All images of thee. I ask'd them, why?
The Judge told me, all they for thee did dye, 70
And therefore had for their Elisian blisse,
In one another their owne Loves to kisse.
O here I miss'd not blisse, but being dead;
For loe, I dream'd, I dream'd; and waking said,
Heaven, if who are in thee there must dwell, 75
How is't, I now was there, and now I fell.


[An Elegie. Reflecting on _&c. _ _A10_: An Elegie. _H39_,
_H40_, _L74_, _RP31_: Eleg. XIII. _1635-69_: _no title_, _Cy_:
Elegie. _P_]

[5 Else, if you were, and just, in equitie _H39_: Else, if you
were, and just in equitie, _1635-54_, _Grosart_: True, if you
were, and just in equitie, _1669_, _Chambers_ (True)]

[12 Orecame she Fates, Love, Death, _MSS.
_: Or can the Fates
love death, _1635-69_]

[13 distaffe _1635-69_, _H39_, _L74_: distaves _A10_, _H40_,
_RP31_]

[14 For their . . . on us they laye. _Cy_, _H39_, _H40_, _L74_,
_P_: For ransome, which taxe they on us doe lay. _1635-69_:
For Ransome, but a taxe on us they lay: _A10_]

[17-19 Death] death _1635-69_]

[18 take: _H40_, _L74_: take. _1635-69_]

[21 That fatall night we last kiss'd _1635-69_: That last
fatall night wee kiss'd _A10_, _H39_, _H40_, _L74_, _P_,
_RP31_]

[22 _in brackets_ _1635-69_

said: _Ed_: said, _1635-69_]

[23 despaire? _Ed_: despaire. _1635-69_]

[24 shee. ] yee. _A10_, _H40_]

[28 A drop of water, thy greate _1635-69_: A small little
drop, thy _Cy_, _H39_ (then thy), _H40_, _L74_, _P_: The
poorest little drop, thy _A10_]

[63 life] lif's _Grosart_: _spelt lief_ _H40_]

[64 Who] Where _Grosart_]

[66 marke] walke _Grosart_

or] and _A10_]

[67 but] out _Grosart_, _from H39_]

[68 Those thousand] Thousand _A10_]

[72 In one] _omit_. _Grosart_]

[74 (For loe I dreampt) _H39 and Grosart_]

[75 Heaven] O Heaven _A10_]




_An Elegie to M^{ris} Boulstred_: 1602.

Shall I goe force an Elegie? abuse
My witt? and breake the Hymen of my muse
For one poore houres love? Deserves it such
Which serves not me, to doe on her as much?
Or if it could, I would that fortune shunn: 5
Who would be rich, to be foe foone undone?
The beggars best is, wealth he doth not know;
And but to shew it him, encreases woe.
But we two may enjoye an hour? when never
It returnes, who would have a losse for ever? 10
Nor can so short a love, if true, but bring
A halfe howres feare, with the thought of losing:
Before it, all howres were hope; and all are
(That shall come after it,) yeares of dispaire.
This joye brings this doubt, whether it were more 15
To have enjoy'd it, or have died before?
T'is a lost paradise, a fall from grace,
Which I thinke, Adam felt more then his race.
Nor need those angells any other Hell;
It is enough for them, from Heaven they fell. 20
Besides, Conquest in love is all in all;
That when I liste, shee under me may fall:
And for this turne, both for delight and view,
I'le have a Succuba, as good as you.
But when these toyes are past, and hott blood ends, 25
The best enjoying is, we still are frends.
Love can but be frendshipps outside; their two
Beauties differ, as myndes and bodies do.
Thus, I this great Good still would be to take,
Vnless one houre, another happy make: 30
Or, that I might forgett it instantlie;
Or in that blest estate, that I might die.
But why doe I thus travaile in the skill
Of despis'd poetrie, and perchance spill
My fortune? or undoe myself in sport 35
By having but that dangerous name in Court?
I'le leave, and since I doe your poet prove,
Keep you my lines as secret as my Love.

[An Elegie _&c. _ _A10_, _L74_ (J. R. _in margin_), _RP31_:
Elegie _N_, _TCD_ (J. R. ): Elegie to his M. promissing to love
him an hour. _HN_ (_signed J. R. _): An Elegy 1602. To M^{rs}
Boulstrede. _Le Prince d'Amour. &c. _ _1660

[7 text from HN_: The beggers best is, that wealth he doth
<not> know, _A10_: The beggar's best, his _&c. _ _L74_, _RP31_,
_N_, _TCD_, _Sim_: The beggar's best that _Grosart_]

[9 two _Sim_: _om. HN_, _L74_, _N_, _RP31_, _TCD_: But we an
hour may now enjoy when never _A10_

hour? ] hour; _L74_]

[10 It returnes] Again't returnes _A10_]

[16 or have] or else _A10_]

[21 Besides, _A10_: Beside, _L74_]

[23 delight] despite _A10_]

[27 but be] be but _Sim_

their _Ed_: there _A10_, _L74_]

[30 one] on _L74_]

[32 _Poem closes_, _A10_]

[34 despis'd poetrie,] deeper mysteries, _Sim_]




_An Elegie. _

True Love findes witt, but he whose witt doth move
Him to love, confesses he doth not love:
And from his witt, passions and true desire
Are forc'd as hard, as from the flint is fire.
My love's all fire whose flames my soule do nurse, 5
Whose smokes are sighes; whose every sparke's a verse.
Doth measure women win? Then I know why
Most of our Ladies with the Scotts doe lie.
A Scott is measur'd in each syllable, terse
And smooth as a verse: and like that smooth verse 10
Is shallow, and wants matter, but in his handes,
And they are rugged; Her state better standes
Whom dauncing measures tempted, not the Scott:
In brief she's out of measure, lost, soe gott.
Greene-sickness wenches, (not needes must but) may 15
Looke pale, breathe short; at Court none so long stay.
Good witt ne're despair'd there, or _Ay me_ said:
For never Wench at Court was ravished.
And shee but cheates on Heaven, whom you so winne
Thinking to share the sport, but not the sinne. 20


[An Elegie. _A10_: _similarly_, _B_, _H40_, _L74_, _O'F_,
_RP31_: Elegia Undecima. _S_: _no title_, _Cy_, _P_ (J. D _in
margin_): _first printed by Grosart_]

[1 findes] kindles _RP31_]

[5 do _A10_, _L74_: doth _Grosart and Chambers_]

[7 women win? _A10_: win women? _L74_]

[11 but in his handes, _A10_, _B_, _L74_, _O'F_, _P_: but's
in's bands _S_: cut in bands _Grosart and Chambers_: writt in
his hands _H-K_ (_teste Grosart_)]

[14 she's _A10_, _L74_, _P_, _H-K_ (_Grosart_): theyre _S_,
_Chambers_

soe] if _A10_]

[17 ne're _A10_: neare _L74_]




_Song. _

Deare Love, continue nice and chaste,
For, if you yeeld you doe me wrong,
Let duller wits to loves end haste,
I have enough to wooe thee long.

All paine and joy is in their way; 5
The things we feare bring lesse annoy
Then feare; and hope brings greater joy;
But in themselves they cannot stay.

Small favours will my prayers increase;
Granting my suit you give me all, 10
And then my prayers must needs surcease,
For, I have made your Godhead fall.

Beasts cannot witt nor beauty see,
They mans affections onely move;
Beasts other sports of love doe prove, 15
With better feeling farre than we.

Then Love prolong my suite, for thus
By losing sport, I sport doe win;
And that may vertue prove in us,
Which ever yet hath beene a sinne. 20

My comming neare may spie some ill,
And now the world is given to scoffe;
To keepe my Love, (then) keepe me off,
And so I shall admire thee still.

Say I have made a perfect choyce, 25
Satietie our Love may kill;
Then give me but thy face and voyce,
Mine eye and eare thou canst not fill.

To make me rich (oh) be not poore,
Give me not all, yet something lend, 30
So I shall still my suite commend,
And you at will doe lesse or more.
But, if to all you condescend,
My love, our sport, your Godhead end.


[Song. _1635-69_: _no title_, _A10_, _B_, _HN_ (_signed_ J.
R. ), _L74_ (Finis. JR monogram), _O'F_, _P_, _S96_]

[1 Love,] Love _1635-69_]

[13 witt] will, _1635-54_]

[14 They, _1635-69_: Those _L74_]

[18 I sport] I sports _1635-54_]

[19 that may _A10_, _HN_, _L74_: that doth _1635-69_: let that
_B_]

[26 Satietie] Sacietie _1635-39_, _L74_

Love _A10_, _B_, _HN_, _L74_, _S96_: selves _1635-69_]

[28 Mine _MSS. _: My _1635-39_]

[32 you at will] at your will _S96_]




_To Ben. Iohnson_, 6 _Ian. _ 1603.

The State and mens affaires are the best playes
Next yours; 'Tis nor more nor lesse than due praise.
Write, but touch not the much descending race
Of Lords houses, so settled in worths place,
As but themselves none thinke them usurpers. 5
It is no fault in thee to suffer theirs.
If the Queene Masque, or King a hunting goe,
Though all the Court follow, Let them. We know
Like them in goodnesse that Court ne'r will be,
For that were vertue, and not flatterie. 10
Forget we were thrust out; It is but thus,
God threatens Kings, Kings Lords, as Lords doe us.
Iudge of strangers, Trust and believe your friend,
And so me; And when I true friendship end,
With guilty conscience let me be worse stonge, 15
Then with _Pophams_ sentence theeves, or _Cookes_ tongue
Traitors are. Friends are our selves. This I thee tell
As to my friend, and to my selfe as Counsell;
Let for a while the times unthrifty rout
Contemne learning, and all your studies flout. 20
Let them scorne Hell, they will a Sergeant feare,
More then wee _that_; ere long God may forbeare,
But Creditors will not. Let them increase
In riot and excesse as their meanes cease;
Let them scorne him that made them, and still shun 25
His Grace, but love the whore who hath undone
Them and their soules. But; that they that allow
But one God, should have religions enow
For the Queens Masque, and their husbands, far more
Then all the Gentiles knew, or _Atlas_ bore! 30
Well, let all passe, and trust him who nor cracks
The bruised Reed, nor quencheth smoaking flaxe.


[To Ben. Iohnson, 6 Ian. 1603. _1635-69_, _O'F_: To Ben
Johnson 6 Jan: 1603 T. R. _B_: An Epistle to Ben Johnson.
S^{r} J: R: _H40_: An Epistle to Beniamin Johnson. _RP31_: An
Epistle: To M^{r} Ben. Johnson. Ja: 6: 1603 _L74_: To M^{r}
Ben Johnson. _S_]

[2 yours; _Ed_: yours, _1635-69_

nor more] noe more _L74_]

[5 none thinke] none can thinke _1669_]

[11 out; _Ed_: out. _1635-69_]

[15 stonge, _L74_: _spelt_ st? g, _1635_]

[18 as Counsell;] is Counsell: _1635-54_]

[22 More then wee _that_; _Ed_: More then wee that _H40_,
_L74_: More then wee them; that, _1635-69_ (them _in ital. _
_1635-54_)]

[24 cease; _Ed_: cease, _1635-69_]

[28 enow _H40_, _L74_: enough _1635-69_]

[29 far _L74_: for _1635-69_, _H40_]

[30 bore! _Ed_: bore? _H40_: bore. _1635-69_, _L74_]




_To Ben. Iohnson_, 9. _Novembris_, 1603.

If great men wrong me, I will spare my selfe;
If meane, I will spare them. I know that pelf
Which is ill got the Owner doth upbraid.
It may corrupt a Iudge, make me afraid
And a Iury; But 'twill revenge in this, 5
That, though himselfe be judge, hee guilty is.
What care I though of weaknesse men taxe me,
I had rather sufferer than doer be.
That I did trust, it was my Natures praise,
For breach of word I knew but as a phrase. 10
That judgement is, that surely can comprise
The world in precepts, most happy and most wise.
What though? Though lesse, yet some of both have we,
Who have learn'd it by use and misery.
Poore I, whom every pety crosse doth trouble, 15
Who apprehend each hurt thats done me, double,
Am of this (though it should sinke me) carelesse,
It would but force me to a stricter goodnesse.
They have great odds of me, who gaine doe winne,
(If such gaine be not losse) from every sinne. 20
The standing of great mens lives would afford
A pretty summe, if God would sell his Word.
He cannot; they can theirs, and breake them too.
How unlike they are that they are likened to?
Yet I conclude, they are amidst my evils, 25
If good, like Gods, the naught are so like devils.


[To Ben Johnson, 9 Novembris, 1603: _1635-69_, _B_
(_subscribed_ doubtfull author), _O'F_, _S_: Another Epistle
to M^{r} Ben: Johnson. No: 9. 1603. _L74_: Another to Ben
Johnson. _H40_]

[2 them. ] them, _1635-69_ that _B_, _H40_, _L74_, _S_: the
_1635-69_]

[3 upbraide. _Ed_: upbraide; _1635-69_]

[5 Iury; _Ed_: Iury. _1635-69_]

[18 goodnesse. ] goodnesse _1635-39_]

[19 odds _B_, _H40_, _L74_, _S_: gaine _1635-69_, _O'F_]




_To S^{r} Tho. Roe_ 1603.

_Deare Thom_:

Tell her if she to hired servants shew
Dislike, before they take their leave they goe;
When nobler spirits start at no disgrace,
For who hath but one minde, hath but one face:
If then why I tooke not my leave she aske, 5
Aske her againe why she did not unmaske?
Was she or proud or cruell, or knew shee
'Twould make my losse more felt, and pittyed me?
Or did she feare one kisse might stay for moe?
Or else was she unwilling I should goe? 10
I thinke the best, and love so faithfully
I cannot chuse but thinke that she loves mee.
If this prove not my faith, then let her trie
How in her service I would fructifie.
Ladies have boldly lov'd; bid her renew 15
That decay'd worth, and prove the times past true.
Then he whose wit and verse goes now so lame,
With songs to her will the wild Irish tame.
Howe'r, I'll weare the black and white ribband,
White for her fortunes, blacke for mine shall stand. 20
I doe esteeme her favours, not their stuffe;
If what I have was given, I have enough:
And all's well; for had she lov'd, I had had
All my friends hate; for now, departing sad
I feele not that; Yet as the Rack the Gout 25
Cures, so hath _this_ worse griefe _that_ quite put out:
My first disease nought but that worse cureth,
Which (which I dare foresee) nought cures but death.
Tell her all this before I am forgot,
That not too late shee grieve shee lov'd me not. 30
Burden'd with this, I was to depart lesse
Willing, then those which die, and not confesse.


[Footnote: To Sir Tho. Rowe, 1603. _1635-69_, _O'F_: An
Elegie. To S^{r} Tho. Roe. _B_ (_subscribed J. R. _), _L74_:
An Elegie, complayning a want of complement in his mistrisse,
at his leave-taking. _A10_: Elegia Vicesima Septima. To S^{r}
Thomas Roe. 1603. _S_

_Thom_: _B_, _L74_, _O'F_,_S_: _Tom_: _1635-69_]

[5 tooke _A10_, _B_, _L74_, _O'F_, _S_: take _1635-69_]

[14 I would _1635-69_: it will _A10_, _L74_, _S_]

[17 goes now so _Ed_: goe now so _B_: growes now so _1635-69_,
_O'F_: now goes thus _A10_, _L74_, _S_]

[21 favours, not their _B_, _L74_, _S_: favour, not the
_1635-69_]

[22 enough: _Ed_: enough, _1635-69_]

[23 had had] had not had _1635-69_, _O'F_]

[24 hate;] hate _1635_: hate, _1639-69_

now, _Ed_: now _1635-69_: not _A10_, _B_, _L74_, _S_]

[26 out:] out. _1635_]

[28 Which (which I dare foresee) nought _A10_, _B_, _L74_,
_S_: Which (I dare foresay) nothing _1635-69_]

[Willing, _Ed_: Willing _1635-69_: Willing; _A10_]




II.


_To the Countesse of Huntington. _

That unripe side of earth, that heavy clime
That gives us man up now, like _Adams_ time
Before he ate; mans shape, that would yet bee
(Knew they not it, and fear'd beasts companie)
So naked at this day, as though man there 5
From Paradise so great a distance were,
As yet the newes could not arrived bee
Of _Adams_ tasting the forbidden tree;
Depriv'd of that free state which they were in,
And wanting the reward, yet beare the sinne. 10
But, as from extreme hights who downward looks,
Sees men at childrens shapes, Rivers at brookes,
And loseth younger formes; so, to your eye,
These (Madame) that without your distance lie,
Must either mist, or nothing seeme to be, 15
Who are at home but wits mere _Atomi_.
But, I who can behold them move, and stay,
Have found my selfe to you, just their midway;
And now must pitty them; for, as they doe
Seeme sick to me, just so must I to you. 20
Yet neither will I vexe your eyes to see
A sighing Ode, nor crosse-arm'd Elegie.
I come not to call pitty from your heart,
Like some white-liver'd dotard that would part
Else from his slipperie soule with a faint groane, 25
And faithfully, (without you smil'd) were gone.
I cannot feele the tempest of a frowne,
I may be rais'd by love, but not throwne down.
Though I can pittie those sigh twice a day,
I hate that thing whispers it selfe away. 30
Yet since all love is fever, who to trees
Doth talke, doth yet in loves cold ague freeze.
'Tis love, but, with such fatall weaknesse made,
That it deftroyes it selfe with its owne shade.
Who first look'd sad, griev'd, pin'd, and shew'd his paine, 35
Was he that first taught women, to disdaine.
As all things were one nothing, dull and weake,
Vntill this raw disordered heape did breake,
And severall desires led parts away,
Water declin'd with earth, the ayre did stay, 40
Fire rose, and each from other but unty'd,
Themselves unprison'd were and purify'd:
So was love, first in vast confusion hid,
An unripe willingnesse which nothing did,
A thirst, an Appetite which had no ease, 45
That found a want, but knew not what would please.
What pretty innocence in those dayes mov'd?
Man ignorantly walk'd by her he lov'd;
Both sigh'd and enterchang'd a speaking eye,
Both trembled and were sick, both knew not why. 50
That naturall fearefulnesse that struck man dumbe,
Might well (those times consider'd) man become.
As all discoverers whose first assay
Findes but the place, after, the nearest way:
So passion is to womans love, about, 55
Nay, farther off, than when we first set out.
It is not love that sueth, or doth contend;
Love either conquers, or but meets a friend.
Man's better part consists of purer fire,
And findes it selfe allow'd, ere it desire. 60
Love is wise here, keepes home, gives reason sway,
And journeys not till it finde summer-way.
A weather-beaten Lover but once knowne,
Is sport for every girle to practise on.
Who strives through womans scornes, women to know, 65
Is lost, and seekes his shadow to outgoe;
It must bee sicknesse, after one disdaine,
Though he be call'd aloud, to looke againe.
Let others sigh, and grieve; one cunning sleight
Shall freeze my Love to Christall in a night. 70
I can love first, and (if I winne) love still;
And cannot be remov'd, unlesse she will.
It is her fault if I unsure remaine,
Shee onely can untie, and binde againe.
The honesties of love with ease I doe, 75
But am no porter for a tedious woo.
But (madame) I now thinke on you; and here
Where we are at our hights, you but appeare,
We are but clouds you rise from, our noone-ray
But a foule shadow, not your breake of day. 80
You are at first hand all that's faire and right,
And others good reflects but backe your light.
You are a perfectnesse, so curious hit,
That youngest flatteries doe scandall it.
For, what is more doth what you are restraine, 85
And though beyond, is downe the hill againe.
We'have no next way to you, we crosse to it:
You are the straight line, thing prais'd, attribute;
Each good in you's a light; so many a shade
You make, and in them are your motions made. 90
These are your pictures to the life. From farre
We see you move, and here your _Zani's_ are:
So that no fountaine good there is, doth grow
In you, but our dimme actions faintly shew.
Then finde I, if mans noblest part be love, 95
Your purest luster must that shadow move.
The soule with body, is a heaven combin'd
With earth, and for mans ease, but nearer joyn'd.
Where thoughts the starres of soule we understand,
We guesse not their large natures, but command. 100
And love in you, that bountie is of light,
That gives to all, and yet hath infinite.
Whose heat doth force us thither to intend,
But soule we finde too earthly to ascend,
'Till slow accesse hath made it wholy pure, 105
Able immortall clearnesse to endure.
Who dare aspire this journey with a staine,
Hath waight will force him headlong backe againe.
No more can impure man retaine and move
In that pure region of a worthy love: 110
Then earthly substance can unforc'd aspire,
And leave his nature to converse with fire:
Such may have eye, and hand; may sigh, may speak;
But like swoln bubles, when they are high'st they break.
Though far removed Northerne fleets scarce finde 115
The Sunnes comfort; others thinke him too kinde.
There is an equall distance from her eye,
Men perish too farre off, and burne too nigh.