No More Learning

772. A HYMN TO BACCHUS.

I sing thy praise, Iacchus,
Who with thy thyrse dost thwack us:
And yet thou so dost back us
With boldness, that we fear
No Brutus ent'ring here,
Nor Cato the severe.
What though the lictors threat us,
We know they dare not beat us,
So long as thou dost heat us.
When we thy orgies sing,
Each cobbler is a king,
Nor dreads he any thing:
And though he do not rave,
Yet he'll the courage have
To call my Lord Mayor knave;
Besides, too, in a brave,
Although he has no riches,
But walks with dangling breeches
And skirts that want their stitches,
And shows his naked flitches,
Yet he'll be thought or seen
So good as George-a-Green;
And calls his blouze, his queen;
And speaks in language keen.
O Bacchus! let us be
From cares and troubles free;
And thou shalt hear how we
Will chant new hymns to thee.

_Orgies_, hymns to Bacchus.
_Brave_, boast.
_George-a-Green_, the legendary pinner of Wakefield, renowned for the
use of the quarterstaff.
_Blouze_, a fat wench.


773. UPON PUSS AND HER 'PRENTICE. EPIG.

Puss and her 'prentice both at drawgloves play;
That done, they kiss, and so draw out the day:
At night they draw to supper; then well fed,
They draw their clothes off both, so draw to bed.

_Drawgloves_, the game of talking on the fingers.


774. BLAME THE REWARD OF PRINCES.

Among disasters that dissension brings,
This not the least is, which belongs to kings:
If wars go well, each for a part lays claim;
If ill, then kings, not soldiers, bear the blame.


775. CLEMENCY IN KINGS.

Kings must not only cherish up the good,
But must be niggards of the meanest blood.


776. ANGER.

Wrongs, if neglected, vanish in short time,
But heard with anger, we confess the crime.


777. A PSALM OR HYMN TO THE GRACES.

Glory be to the Graces!
That do in public places
Drive thence whate'er encumbers
The list'ning to my numbers.

Honour be to the Graces!
Who do with sweet embraces,
Show they are well contented
With what I have invented.

Worship be to the Graces!
Who do from sour faces,
And lungs that would infect me,
For evermore protect me.


778. A HYMN TO THE MUSES.

Honour to you who sit
Near to the well of wit,
And drink your fill of it.

Glory and worship be
To you, sweet maids, thrice three,
Who still inspire me,

And teach me how to sing
Unto the lyric string
My measures ravishing.

Then while I sing your praise,
My priesthood crown with bays
Green, to the end of days.


779. UPON JULIA'S CLOTHES.

Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
The liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free;
O how that glittering taketh me!


780. MODERATION.

In things a moderation keep:
_Kings ought to shear, not skin their sheep_.


781. TO ANTHEA.

Let's call for Hymen, if agreed thou art;
_Delays in love but crucify the heart_.
Love's thorny tapers yet neglected lie:
Speak thou the word, they'll kindle by-and-bye.
The nimble hours woo us on to wed,
And Genius waits to have us both to bed.
Behold, for us the naked Graces stay
With maunds of roses for to strew the way:
Besides, the most religious prophet stands
Ready to join, as well our hearts as hands.
Juno yet smiles; but if she chance to chide,
Ill luck 'twill bode to th' bridegroom and the bride.
Tell me, Anthea, dost thou fondly dread
The loss of that we call a maidenhead?
Come, I'll instruct thee. Know, the vestal fire
Is not by marriage quench'd, but flames the higher.

_Maunds_, baskets.
_Fondly_, foolishly.


782. UPON PREW, HIS MAID.

In this little urn is laid
Prudence Baldwin, once my maid:
From whose happy spark here let
Spring the purple violet.


783. THE INVITATION.

To sup with thee thou did'st me home invite;
And mad'st a promise that mine appetite
Should meet and tire on such lautitious meat,
The like not Heliogabalus did eat:
And richer wine would'st give to me, thy guest,
Than Roman Sylla pour'd out at his feast.
I came, 'tis true, and looked for fowl of price,
The bastard phœnix, bird of paradise,
And for no less than aromatic wine
Of maiden's-blush, commix'd with jessamine.
Clean was the hearth, the mantel larded jet;
Which wanting Lar, and smoke, hung weeping wet;
At last, i' th' noon of winter, did appear
A ragg'd-soust-neat's-foot with sick vinegar:
And in a burnished flagonet stood by,
Beer small as comfort, dead as charity.
At which amaz'd, and pondering on the food,
How cold it was, and how it chill'd my blood;
I curs'd the master, and I damn'd the souce,
And swore I'd got the ague of the house.
Well, when to eat thou dost me next desire,
I'll bring a fever, since thou keep'st no fire.

_Tire_, feed on.
_Lautitious_, sumptuous.
_Maiden's-blush_, the pink-rose.
_Larded jet_, _i. e. _, blacked.
_Soust_, pickled.


784. CEREMONIES FOR CHRISTMAS.

Come, bring with a noise,
My merry, merry boys,
The Christmas log to the firing;
While my good dame, she
Bids ye all be free,
And drink to your hearts' desiring.

With the last year's brand
Light the new block, and
For good success in his spending
On your psaltries play,
That sweet luck may
Come while the log is a-teending.

Drink now the strong beer,
Cut the white loaf here;
The while the meat is a-shredding
For the rare mince-pie,
And the plums stand by
To fill the paste that's a-kneading.

_Psaltries_, a kind of guitar.
_Teending_, kindling.


785. CHRISTMAS-EVE, ANOTHER CEREMONY.

Come guard this night the Christmas-pie,
That the thief, though ne'er so sly,
With his flesh-hooks, don't come nigh
To catch it
From him, who all alone sits there,
Having his eyes still in his ear,
And a deal of nightly fear,
To watch it.


786. ANOTHER TO THE MAIDS.

Wash your hands, or else the fire
Will not teend to your desire;
Unwash'd hands, ye maidens, know,
Dead the fire, though ye blow.

_Teend_, kindle.


787. ANOTHER.

Wassail the trees, that they may bear
You many a plum and many a pear:
For more or less fruits they will bring,
As you do give them wassailing.


788. POWER AND PEACE.

_'Tis never, or but seldom known,
Power and peace to keep one throne. _


789. TO HIS DEAR VALENTINE, MISTRESS MARGARET FALCONBRIDGE.

Now is your turn, my dearest, to be set
A gem in this eternal coronet:
'Twas rich before, but since your name is down
It sparkles now like Ariadne's crown.
Blaze by this sphere for ever: or this do,
Let me and it shine evermore by you.


790. TO OENONE.

Sweet Oenone, do but say
Love thou dost, though love says nay.
Speak me fair; for lovers be
Gently kill'd by flattery.


791. VERSES.

Who will not honour noble numbers, when
Verses out-live the bravest deeds of men?


792. HAPPINESS.

That happiness does still the longest thrive,
Where joys and griefs have turns alternative.


793. THINGS OF CHOICE LONG A-COMING.

We pray 'gainst war, yet we enjoy no peace;
_Desire deferr'd is that it may increase_.


794. POETRY PERPETUATES THE POET.

Here I myself might likewise die,
And utterly forgotten lie,
But that eternal poetry
Repullulation gives me here
Unto the thirtieth thousand year,
When all now dead shall reappear.

_Repullulation_, rejuvenescence.
_Thirtieth thousand year_, an allusion to the doctrine of the Platonic
year.


797. KISSES.

Give me the food that satisfies a guest:
Kisses are but dry banquets to a feast.


798. ORPHEUS.

Orpheus he went, as poets tell,
To fetch Eurydice from hell;
And had her; but it was upon
This short but strict condition:
Backward he should not look while he
Led her through hell's obscurity:
But ah! it happened, as he made
His passage through that dreadful shade,
Revolve he did his loving eye,
For gentle fear or jealousy;
And looking back, that look did sever
Him and Eurydice for ever.


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 Cæsar'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.