No More Learning

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 comminglèd,
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?
Where we such clusters had,
As made us nobly wild, not mad;
And yet each verse of thine
Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.

My Ben!
Or come again,
Or send to us
Thy wit's great overplus;
But teach us yet
Wisely to husband it,
Lest we that talent spend:
And having once brought to an end
That precious stock; the store
Of such a wit the world should have no more.

_The Sun_, _etc. _, famous taverns.


912. UPON A VIRGIN.

Spend, harmless shade, thy nightly hours
Selecting here both herbs and flowers;
Of which make garlands here and there
To dress thy silent sepulchre.
Nor do thou fear the want of these
_In everlasting properties_,
Since we fresh strewings will bring hither,
Far faster than the first can wither.


913. BLAME.

In battles what disasters fall,
The king he bears the blame of all.


914. A REQUEST TO THE GRACES.

Ponder my words, if so that any be
Known guilty here of incivility:
Let what is graceless, discompos'd, and rude,
With sweetness, smoothness, softness, be endu'd.
Teach it to blush, to curtsy, lisp, and show
Demure, but yet full of temptation, too.
_Numbers ne'er tickle, or but lightly please,
Unless they have some wanton carriages. _
This if ye do, each piece will here be good,
And graceful made by your neat sisterhood.


915. UPON HIMSELF.

I lately fri'd, but now behold
I freeze as fast, and shake for cold.
And in good faith I'd thought it strange
T' have found in me this sudden change;
But that I understood by dreams
These only were but Love's extremes;
Who fires with hope the lover's heart,
And starves with cold the self-same part.


916. MULTITUDE.

We trust not to the multitude in war,
But to the stout, and those that skilful are.


917. FEAR.

Man must do well out of a good intent;
Not for the servile fear of punishment.


918. TO M. KELLAM.

What! can my Kellam drink his sack
In goblets to the brim,
And see his Robin Herrick lack,
Yet send no bowls to him?

For love or pity to his muse,
That she may flow in verse,
Contemn to recommend a cruse,
But send to her a tierce.


919. HAPPINESS TO HOSPITALITY; OR, A HEARTY WISH TO GOOD HOUSEKEEPING.

First, may the hand of bounty bring
Into the daily offering
Of full provision such a store,
Till that the cook cries: Bring no more.
Upon your hogsheads never fall
A drought of wine, ale, beer, at all;
But, like full clouds, may they from thence
Diffuse their mighty influence.
Next, let the lord and lady here
Enjoy a Christ'ning year by year;
And this good blessing back them still,
T' have boys, and girls too, as they will.
Then from the porch may many a bride
Unto the holy temple ride:
And thence return, short prayers said,
A wife most richly married.
Last, may the bride and bridegroom be
Untouch'd by cold sterility;
But in their springing blood so play,
As that in lusters few they may,
By laughing too, and lying down,
People a city or a town.

_Wish_, om. orig. ed.
_Lusters_, quinquenniums.


920. CUNCTATION IN CORRECTION.

The lictors bundled up their rods; beside,
Knit them with knots with much ado unti'd,
That if, unknitting, men would yet repent,
They might escape the lash of punishment.


921. PRESENT GOVERNMENT GRIEVOUS.

_Men are suspicious, prone to discontent:
Subjects still loathe the present government. _


922. REST REFRESHES.

Lay by the good a while; a resting field
Will, after ease, a richer harvest yield;
Trees this year bear: next, they their wealth withhold:
_Continual reaping makes a land wax old_.


923. REVENGE.

_Man's disposition is for to requite
An injury, before a benefit:
Thanksgiving is a burden and a pain;
Revenge is pleasing to us, as our gain. _


924. THE FIRST MARS OR MAKES.

In all our high designments 'twill appear,
_The first event breeds confidence or fear_.


925. BEGINNING DIFFICULT.

_Hard are the two first stairs unto a crown:
Which got, the third bids him a king come down. _

926. FAITH FOUR-SQUARE.

Faith is a thing that's four-square; let it fall
This way or that, it not declines at all.


927. THE PRESENT TIME BEST PLEASETH.

Praise they that will times past; I joy to see
Myself now live: _this age best pleaseth me_.


928. CLOTHES ARE CONSPIRATORS.

Though from without no foes at all we fear,
We shall be wounded by the clothes we wear.


929. CRUELTY.

_'Tis but a dog-like madness in bad kings,
For to delight in wounds and murderings:
As some plants prosper best by cuts and blows,
So kings by killing do increase their foes. _


930. FAIR AFTER FOUL.

_Tears quickly dry, griefs will in time decay:
A clear will come after a cloudy day. _


931. HUNGER.

Ask me what hunger is, and I'll reply,
'Tis but a fierce desire of hot and dry.


932. BAD WAGES FOR GOOD SERVICE.

In this misfortune kings do most excel,
To hear the worst from men when they do well.


933. THE END.

Conquer we shall, but we must first contend;
_'Tis not the fight that crowns us, but the end_.


934. THE BONDMAN.

Bind me but to thee with thine hair,
And quickly I shall be
Made by that fetter or that snare
A bondman unto thee.
Or if thou tak'st that bond away,
Then bore me through the ear,
And by the law I ought to stay
For ever with thee here.


935. CHOOSE FOR THE BEST.

Give house-room to the best; _'tis never known
Virtue and pleasure both to dwell in one_.


936. TO SILVIA.

Pardon my trespass, Silvia; I confess
My kiss out-went the bounds of shamefastness:
None is discreet at all times; no, _not Jove
Himself, at one time, can be wise and love_.


937. FAIR SHOWS DECEIVE.

Smooth was the sea, and seem'd to call
Two pretty girls to play withal:
Who paddling there, the sea soon frown'd,
And on a sudden both were drown'd.
What credit can we give to seas,
Who, kissing, kill such saints as these?


938. HIS WISH.

Fat be my hind; unlearned be my wife;
Peaceful my night; my day devoid of strife:
To these a comely offspring I desire,
Singing about my everlasting fire.

_Hind_, country servant.


939. UPON JULIA WASHING HERSELF IN THE RIVER.

How fierce was I, when I did see
My Julia wash herself in thee!
So lilies thorough crystal look:
So purest pebbles in the brook:
As in the river Julia did,
Half with a lawn of water hid.
Into thy streams myself I threw,
And struggling there, I kiss'd thee too;
And more had done, it is confess'd,
Had not thy waves forbade the rest.


940. A MEAN IN OUR MEANS.

Though frankincense the deities require,
_We must not give all to the hallowed fire_.
Such be our gifts, and such be our expense,
As for ourselves to leave some frankincense.


941. UPON CLUNN.

A roll of parchment Clunn about him bears,
Charg'd with the arms of all his ancestors:
And seems half ravish'd, when he looks upon
That bar, this bend; that fess, this cheveron;
This manch, that moon; this martlet, and that mound;
This counterchange of pearl and diamond.
What joy can Clunn have in that coat, or this,
Whenas his own still out at elbows is?


942. UPON CUPID.

Love, like a beggar, came to me
With hose and doublet torn:
His shirt bedangling from his knee,
With hat and shoes outworn.

He ask'd an alms; I gave him bread,
And meat too, for his need:
Of which, when he had fully fed,
He wished me all good speed.

Away he went, but as he turn'd
(In faith I know not how)
He touch'd me so, as that I burn['d],
And am tormented now.

Love's silent flames and fires obscure
Then crept into my heart;
And though I saw no bow, I'm sure
His finger was the dart.


946. AN HYMN TO LOVE.

I will confess
With cheerfulness,
Love is a thing so likes me,
That let her lay
On me all day,
I'll kiss the hand that strikes me.

I will not, I,
Now blubb'ring, cry,
It, ah! too late repents me,
That I did fall
To love at all,
Since love so much contents me.

No, no, I'll be
In fetters free:
While others they sit wringing
Their hands for pain,
I'll entertain
The wounds of love with singing.

With flowers and wine,
And cakes divine,
To strike me I will tempt thee:
Which done; no more
I'll come before
Thee and thine altars empty.


947. TO HIS HONOURED AND MOST INGENIOUS FRIEND, MR. CHARLES COTTON.

For brave comportment, wit without offence,
Words fully flowing, yet of influence:
Thou art that man of men, the man alone,
Worthy the public admiration:
Who with thine own eyes read'st what we do write,
And giv'st our numbers euphony and weight;
Tell'st when a verse springs high, how understood
To be, or not, born of the royal blood.
What state above, what symmetry below,
Lines have, or should have, thou the best can'st show.
For which, my Charles, it is my pride to be
Not so much known, as to be lov'd of thee.
Long may I live so, and my wreath of bays
Be less another's laurel than thy praise.


948. WOMEN USELESS.

What need we marry women, when
Without their use we may have men,
And such as will in short time be
For murder fit, or mutiny?
As Cadmus once a new way found,
By throwing teeth into the ground;
From which poor seed, and rudely sown,
Sprung up a war-like nation:
So let us iron, silver, gold,
Brass, lead, or tin throw into th' mould;
And we shall see in little space
Rise up of men a fighting race.