But here my gentle Dream conveyed me
Into the place where I most longed to see,
My Mistress' Bed ; who some few Blushes past
And smiling Frowns, contented was at last
To let me Touch her Neck ; I, not content
With that, slipped to her Breasts,
And then I waked.
Brennoralt Gazing on
Francelia Asleep
So Misers look upon their Gold, which while
They joy to see, they fear to lose ; the Pleasure
O'the Sight scarce equalling the Jealousy
Of being dispossess'd by Others.
Her Face is like the Milky Way i' th' Sky,
A Meeting of gentle Lights without Name.
Heavens ! shall this fresh Ornament
Of the World, this precious Loveliness
Pass, with other common Things, among'st
The Wastes of Time? What Pity 'twere !
-Brennoralt, Act III.
No, no, fair Heretic, it needs must be
But an Ill-love in me
And worse for thee.
For were it in my Pow'r,
To love thee now this Hour
More than I did the last :
I would then so fall
I might not love at all.
Love that can flow and can admit Increase,
Admits as well an Ebb, and may grow less.
True Love is still the same, the torrid Zones,
And those more frigid ones,
It must not know.
For Love grown cold or hot
Is Lust or Friendship, not
The Thing we have.
For that's a Flame would die,
Held down or up too high :
Then think I love more than I can express,
And would love more, could I but love thee less.
-Aglaura, Act. IV. sc. i.
THE little Boy, to show his Might and Power,
Turn'd lo to a Cow, Narcissus to a Flower ;
Transform'd Apollo to a homely Swain,
And Jove himself into a Golden Rain.
These Shapes were tolerable, but, by the Mass,
He's metamorphosed me into an Ass.
I AM a Man of War and Might
And know thus much that I can fight,
Whether I am i' th Wrong or Right,
Devoutly.
No woman under Heaven I fear,
New Oaths I can exactly swear,
And forty Healths my Brain will bear
Most stoutly.
I cannot speak, but I can do
As much as any of our Crew,
And, if you doubt it, some of you
May prove me.
I dare be bold thus much to say,
If that my Bullets do but play,
You would be hurt so Night and Day,
Yet love me.
Tell me, ye juster Deities,
That pity Lovers' Miseries,
Why should my own Unworthiness
Fright me to seek my Happiness?
It is as natural as just
Him for to love, whom needs I must
All Men confess that Love's a Fire,
Then who denies it to aspire ?
Tell me if thou wert Fortune's Thrall, Would'st thou not raise thee from the Fall?
Seek only to o'erlook thy State,
Whereto thou art condemn'd by Fate?
Then let me love my Corydon,
By Love's Leave, him love alone :
For I have read of Stories oft
That Love hath Wings, and soars aloft.
Then let me grow in my Desire,
Though I be martyr'd in that Fire ;
For Grace it is enough for me
But only to love such as he :
For never shall my Thoughts be base,
Though luckless, yet without Disgrace :
Then let him that my Love shall blame
Or clip Love's Wings or quench Love's Flame.
To Master John Hales of
Eton
SIR,
Whether these Lines do you find out
Putting or clearing of a Doubt,
(Whether Predestination
Or reconciling Three in One,
Or the Unriddling how Men die,
And live at once eternally
Now take you up) know 'tis decreed
You straight bestride the College-steed :
Leave Socinus and the Schoolmen
(Which Jack Bond swears do but fool Men),
And come to Town ; 'tis fit you show
Yourself abroad, that Men may know
(Whate'er some learned Men have guess'd)
That Oracles are not yet ceas'd :
There you shall find the Wit and Wine
Flowing alike and both divine
Dishes with Names not known in Books,
And less among the College-Cooks,
With Sauce so pregnant that you need
Not stay till Hunger bids you feed.
The Sweat of learned Jonson's Brain,
And gentle Shakespeare's easier Strain,
A Hackney-coach conveys you to,
In Spite of all that Rain can do ;
And for your Eighteenpence you sit
The Lord and Judge of all fresh Wit.
News in one Day as much w' have here
As serves all Windsor for a Year,
And which the Carrier brings to you
After t'has here been found not true.
Then think what Company's design'd
To meet you here, Men so refin'd;
Their very common talk at Board
Makes wise or mad a young Court-lord,
And makes him able to be
Umpire in's Father's Company.
Where no Disputes nor forced Defence
Of a Man's Person for his Sense
Take up the Time ; all strive to be
Masters of Truth, as Victory :
And where you come, I'd boldly swear
A Synod might as eas'ly err.
Why so pale and wan, fond Lover ?
Prithee, why so pale?
Will, when looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail ?
Prithee, why so pale?
Why so dull and mute, young Sinner?
Prithee, why so mute ?
Will, when speaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing do't?
Prithee, why so mute ?
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