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Mausolus by his consort deified;
How for Admetus blest Alcestis died.
Since Overbury's Wife 8, no poets seem
T' have chose a wiser or a nobler theme.
You'd help a neighbour, would a friend prefer ;
Pardon a servant, let all come from her.
Thus what you grant if she must recommend,
"Twill make a mutual gift and double friend.
So, when pale Want is craving at the door,
We send our favourite son to help the poor;
Pleas'd with their grateful prayers that he may
live,

And find what heavenly pleasure 'tis to give.
Praise all her actions, think her dress is fine;
Embroideries with gold, pearl, diamonds, join;
Your wealth does best, when plac'd on beauty,
shine.

If she in tabby waves encircled be,
Think Amphytrite rises from the sea.
If by her the purpureal velvet's worn,
Think that she rises like the blush of morn.
And, when her silks afar from Indus come,
Wrought in Chinese or in the Persian loom,
Think that she then like Pallas is array'd,
By whose mysterious art the wheel was made.
Each day admire her different graceful air,
In which she winds her bright and flowing hair.
With her when dancing, let your genius fly:
When in her song the note expires, then die.
If in the autumn, when the wasting year
Its plenty shows, that soon must disappear;
When swelling grape and peach with lovely hue,
And pear and apple, fresh with fragrant dew,
By tempting look and taste perhaps invite
That which we seldom rule, our appetite;
When noxious beat and sudden cold divides
The time o'er which bale influence presides;
Her feverish blood should pulse unusual find,
Or vaporous damps of spleen should sink her
mind;

Then is the time to show a lover's cares:

Sometimes enlarge her hopes, contract her fears;
Give the salubrious draughts with your own hand;
Persuasion has the force of a command.
Watch, and attend; then your reward will prove,
When she recovers, full increase of love.

Far from this love is haughty pride,
Which ancient fables best deride;
Women imperious, void of shame,
And careless of their lovers' fame,
Who of tyrannic follies boast,
Tormenting him that loves them most.

When Hercules, by labours done,
Had prov'd himself to be Jove's son,
By peace which he to Earth had given,
Deserv'd to have his rest in Heaven;
Envy, that strives to be unjust,
Resolv'd to mortify him first;
And, that he should enamour'd be
Of a proud jilt call'd Omphalé,
Who should his heroship expose
By spinning hemp in women's clothes,
Her mind she did vouchsafe one day
Thus to her lover to display:

8 This poem, supposed to have been written for the earl of Somerset, is the character of a good woman, just the reverse of the lady that his friend married. It is printed with his Characters, &c. and had gone through sixteen editions in 1638. N.

"Come quickly, sir, off with this skin:
Think you I'll let a tanner in ?
If you of lions talk, or boars,
You certainly turn out of doors.
Your club's abundantly too thick
For one shall move a fiddle-stick.
What should you do with all those arrows?.
I will have nothing kill'd but sparrows.
Heccy, this day you may remember;
For you shall see a lady's chamber.
Let me be rightly understood:
What I intend is for your good.
In boddice I design to lace ye,
And so among my maids I'll place ye.
When you're genteeler grown, and thinner,
May be I'll call you up to dinner.
With arms so brawny, fists so red,
You'll scrub the rooms, or make the bed.
You can't stick pins, or frieze my hair.
'Bless me! you've nothing of an air.
You'll never come up to working point:
Your fingers all seem out of joint.
Then, besides, Heccy, I must tell ye,
An idle-hand has empty belly:
Therefore this morning I'll begin,
Try how your clumsiness will spin.
You are my shadow, do you see:
Your hope, your thought, your wish, all be
Invented and control'd by me.

Look up whene'er I laugh; look down
With trembling horrour, if I frown.
Say as I say: servants can't lie.
Your truth is my propriety.

Nay, you should be to torture brought, Were I but jealous you transgrest in thought; Or if from Jove your single wish should crave The fate of not continuing still my slave.

"There is no lover that is wise
Pretends to win at cards or dice.
'Tis for his mistress all is thrown:
Th' ill-fortune his, the good her own.
Melanion, whilom lovely youth,
Fam'd for his valour and his truth,
Whom every beauty did adorn
Fresh as Aurora's blushing morn,
Into the horrid woods is run,
Where he ne'er sees the ray of Sun,
Nor to his palace dares return,
Where he for Psyche's love did barn,
And found correction at her hands
For disobeying just commands;
But must his silent penance do
For once not buckling of her shoe :
A good example, child, for you.
Which shows you, when we have our fool,
We've policy enough to rule:

I might have made you such a fellow,
As should have carried my umbrella,
Or bore a flambeau by my chair,
And bade the mob not come too near;
Or lay the cloth, or wait at table;
Nay, been a helper in the stable.

"To my commands obedience pay
At dead of night, or break of day.
Speed is your province; if 'tis I
That bid you run, you ought to fly.
He that love's nimble passion feels
Will soon outstrip my chariot wheels.
Through dog-star's heat he'll tripping go,
Nor leaves he print upon the snow:
The wind itself to him is slow.

He that in Cupid's wars would fight,
Grief, winter, dirty roads, and night,
A bed of earth midst showers of rain,
After no supper, are his gain.
Bright Phoebus took Admetus' pay,
And in a little cottage lay:

All this he did for fear of Jove;

And who would not do more for love?
If entrance is by locks denied,
Then through the roof or window slide.
Leander each night swam the seas,
That he might thereby Hero please.
Perhaps I may be pleas'd to see
Your life in danger, when for me.
You'll find my servants in a row;
Remember then you make your bow;
For they are your superiors now.
No matter if you do engage
My porter, woman, favourite page,
My dog, my parrot, monkey, black,
Or any thing that does partake
Of that admittance which you lack.
But after all you mayn't prevail,

And your most glittering hopes may fail:
For Ceres does not always yield
The crop intrusted to the field.
Fair gales may bring you to a coast
Where you'll by hidden rocks be lost.
Love is tenacious of its joys,
Gives small reward for great employs;
But has as many griefs in store,

As shells by Neptune cast on shore;
As Athos hares, as Hybla bees,
Olives on the Palladian trees.
And, when his angry arrows fall,

They're not found ting'd with common gall.
You're told I'm not at home, 'tis true:
I may be there, but not for you;
And I may let you see it too.
Perhaps I bid you come at night:
If the door's shut, stay till 'tis light.
Perhaps my maid shall bid you go:
A thing she knows you dare not do.
Your rival shall admission gain,
And laugh to see his foe in pain.
All this and more you must endure,
If you from me expect a cure.
"Tis fitting I should search the wound,
Lest all your danger be not found."

When easy fondness meets with woman's pride,
Nothing which that can ask must be denied.
He that enjoy'd the names of great and brave
Is pleas'd to seem a female and a slave:
The hero, number'd with the gods before,
Is so debas'd as to be man no more.

PART IX.

NOT by the sail with which you put to sea
Can you where Thetis swells conducted be;
To the same port you'll different passage find,
And fill your sheets ev'n with contrarious wind.
You nurs'd the fawn, now grown stag wondrous big,
And sleep beneath the shade you knew a twig.
The bubbling spring, increas'd by floods and rain,
Rolls with impetuous stream, and foams the main:
So Love augments in just degrees; at length
By nutrimental fires it gains its strength.

Daily till midnight let kind looks or song, Or tales of love, the pleasing hours prolong. No weariness upon their bliss attends

[friends.

Whom marriage-vows have render'd more than
So Philomels, of equal mates possest,
With a congenial heat, and downy rest,
And care incessant, hover o'er their nest:
Hence from their eggs (small worlds whence all
things spring)

Produce a race by Nature taught to sing;
Who ne'er to this harmonious air had come,
Had their parental love stray'd far from home.
By a short absence mutual joys increase:
"Tis from the toils of war we value peace.
When Jove a while the fruitful shower restrains,
The field on his return a brighter verdure gains.
So let not grief too much disturb those hearts,
Which for a while the war or business parts.
'Twas hard to let Protesilaus go,
Who did his death by oracles foreknow.
Ulysses made indeed a tedious stay,
His twenty winters' absence was delay;
But happiness revives with his return,

And Hymen's altars with fresh incense burn:
Tales of his ship, her web, they both recount;
Pleas'd that their wedlock faith all dangers could
surmount.

Make thou speed back; haste to her longing

arms:

She may have real or impending harms.
There are no minutes in a lover's fears:

They measure all their time by months and years.
Poets are always Virtue's friends,

'Tis what their Muse still recommends: But then the fatal track it shows

Where devious Vice through trouble goes.

They tell us, how a husband's care
Neglected leaves a wife too fair
In hands of a young spark, call'd Paris;
And how the beauteous trust miscarries.
With kindness he receives the youth,
Whose modest looks might promise truth:
Then gives him opportunity

To throw the specious vizard by.
The man had things to be adjusted,

With which the wife should not be trusted;
And, whilst he gave himself the loose,
Left her at home to keep the house.

When Helen saw his back was turn'd,
The devil a bit the gipsy mourn'd.
Says she, ""Tis his fault to be gone;
It sha'n't be mine to lie alone.
A vacant pillow's such a jest,
That with it I could never rest.

He ne'er consider'd his own danger,

To leave me with a handsome stranger.
Wolves would give good account of sheep,
Left to their vigilance to keep.

Pray who, except 'twere geese or widgeons,
Would hire a hawk to guard their pigeons?
Supposing then it might be said
That Menelaus now were dead:
A pretty figure I should make
To go in mourning for his sake.
She that in widow's garb appears,
Especially when at my years,
May seem to be at her last prayers.
But I'll still have my heart divided
"Twixt one to lose, and one provided
He that is gone, is gone: less fear
Of wanting him that I have here."

The sequel was the fire of Troy
Brought to destruction by this boy.
They tell us, how a wife provok'd,
And to a brutish husband yok'd,
Who, by distracting passion led,
Scorns all her charms, and flies her bed,
When on her rival she has seiz'd,
Seems with a secret horrour pleas'd.
They then describe her like some boar
Plunging his tusk in mastiff's gore;
Or lioness, whose ravish'd whelp
Roars for his mother's furious help;
Or basilisk when rous'd, whose breath,
Teeth, sting, and eye-balls, all are death;
Like frantics struck by magic rod
Of some despis'd avenging God:
Make her through blood for vengeance run,
Like Progne sacrifice her son;
And like Medea dart those fires
By which Creüsa's ghost expires.
Then let her with exalted rage

Her grief with the same crimes assuage.
To heighten and improve the curse,
Because he's bad, they make her worse.
So Tyndaris dissolves in tears,
When first she of Chryseïs hears;
But, when Lyrnessis captive's led,
And ravish'd to defile her bed,

Her patience lessens by degrees;
But, when at last she Priameïs sees,
Revenge does to Egystus fly for ease;
In his adulterous arms does plots disclose,
Which fill Mycena with stupendous woes,
And parricide and Hell around her throws.

Ye heavenly powers! the female truth preserve,
And let it not from native goodness swerve;
And let no wanton toys become the cause
Why men should break Hymen's eternal laws;
But let such fables and such crimes remain
Only as fictions of the poet's brain;

Yet marks set up to shun those dangerous shelves On which deprav'd mankind might wreck themselves!

PART X.

At first, the stars, the air, the earth, and deep,
Lay all confus'd in one unorder'd heap;
Till Love eternal did each being strike
With voice divine, to march, and seek its like.
Then seeds of Heavens, then air of vaporous sound,
Then fertile Earth circled with waters round,
On which the bird, the beast, the fish, might move,
All center'd in that universal love.
Then man was fram'd with soul of godlike ray,
And had a nobler share of love than they:
To him was woman, crown'd with virtue, given,
The most immediate work and care of Heaven.
Whilst thus my darling thoughts in raptures
Apollo to my sight in vision sprung.
His lyre with golden strings his touch commands,
And wreaths of laurel flourish in his hands.
Says he, "You bard, that of Love's precepts treat,
Your art at Delphi you will best complete.
There's a short maxim, prais'd when understood,
Useful in practice, and divinely good,

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In eloquence, e'nt talkative, but wise;
So mixes words delicious to the ear,
That all must be persuaded who can hear.
He that can sing, let him with pleasing sound,
Though 'tis an air that is not mortal, wound.
Let not a poet my own art refuse:
I'll come, and bring assistance to his Muse."
But never by ill means your fortune push,
Nor raise your credit by another's blush.
The secret rites of Ceres none profane,
Nor tell what gods in Samo-thracia reign.
'Tis virtue by grave silence to conceal
What talk without discretion would reveal.
For fault like this now Tantalus does lie
In midst of fruits and water, starv'd and dry.
But Cytherea's modesty requires

Most care to cover all her lambent fires.

Love has a pleasing turn, makes that seem best
Of which our lawful wishes are possest.
Andromeda, of Libyc hue and blood,
Was chain'd a prey to monsters of the flood:
Wing'd Perseus saw her beauty through that cloud.
Andromache had large majestic charms;
Therefore was fittest grace to godlike Hector's arms
Beauties in smaller airs bear like commands,
And wondrous magic acts by slenderest wands.
Like Cybele some bear a mother's sway,
Whilst infant gods and heroines obey.
Some rule like stars by guidance of their eyes,
And others please when like Minerva wise.
Love will from Heaven, Art, Nature, Fancy, raise
Something that may exalt its consort's praise.
There will be little jealousies,

By which Love's art its subjects tries. ·
They think it languishes with rest,
But rises, like the palm, opprest.
And as too much prosperity
Often makes way for luxury,
Till we, by turn of fortune taught,
Have wisdom by experience bought:
So, when the hoary ashes grow
Around Love's coals, 'tis time to blow:
And then its craftiness is shown,
To raise your cares, to hide its own;
And have you by a rival crost,
Only in hopes you may n't be lost.
Sometimes they say that you are faulty,
And that they know where you were naughty;
And then perhaps your eyes they'd tear,
Or else dilacerate your hair,

Not so much for revenge as fear.
But she perhaps too far may run,
And do what she would have you shun,
Of which there's a poetic story
That, if you please, I'll lay before you.
Old Juno made her Jove comply
For fear, not asking when or why,
Unto a certain sort of matter,
Marrying her son unto his daughter:
And so to bed the couple went,
Not with their own, but friends' consent.
This Vulcan was a smith, they tell us,
That first invented tongs and bellows;

T

For breath and fingers did their works
(We 'ad fingers long before we 'ad forks);
Which made his hands both hard and brawny,
When wash'd, of colour orange-tawny.
His whole complexion was a sallow,
Where black had not destroy'd the yellow.
One foot was clump'd, which was the stronger,
The other spiny, though much longer;
So both to the proportion come
Of the fore-finger and the thumb.

In short, the whole of him was nasty,
Ill-natur'd, vain, imperious, hasty:
Deformity alike took place
Both in his manners and his face.
Venus had perfect shape and size :
But then she was not over-wise:
For sometimes she her knee is crimping,
To imitate th' old man in limping.
Sometimes his dirty paws she scorns,
Whilst her fair fingers show his horns.
But Mars, the bully of the place, is
The chiefest spark in her good graces,
At first they're shy, at last grow bolder,
And conjugal affection colder.
They car'd not what was said or done,
Till impudence defy'd the Sun.

Vulcan was told of this; quoth he,
"Is there such roguery? I'll see !"
He then an iron net prepar'd,
Which he to the bed's tester rear'd;
Which, when a pulley gave a snap,
Would fall, and make a cuckold's trap.
All those he plac'd in the best room,
Then feign'd that he must go from home;
For he at Lemnos forges had,

And none but he to mind the trade.

Love was too eager to beware

Of falling into any snare.

They went to bed, and so were caught;
And then they of repentance thought.
The show being ready to begin,
Vulcan would call his neighbours in.
Jove should be there, that does make bold
With Juno, that notorious scold;
Neptune, first bargeman on the water;
Thetis, the oyster-woman's daughter;
Pluto, that chimney-sweeping sloven;
With Proserpine hot from her oven;
And Mercury, that's sharp and cunning
In stealing customs and in running;
And Dy the midwife, though a virgin;
And Esculapius, the surgeon;
Apollo, who might be physician,
Or serve them else for a musician.
The piper Pan, to play her up;
And Bacchus, with his chirping cup;
And Hercules should bring his club in,
To give the rogue a lusty drubbing;
And all the Cupids should be by,
To see their mother's infamy.

One Momus cried, "You're hugely pleas'd;
I hope your mind will soon be eas'd:
For, when so publicly you find it,
People, you know, will little mind it.
They love to tell what no one knows,
And they themselves only suppose.
Not every husband can afford
To be a cuckold on record;
Nor should he be a cuckold styl'd,
That once or so has been beguild,

Unless he makes it demonstration,
Then puts it in some proclamation,
With general voice of all the nation.”
The company were come, when Vulcan hopping,
And for his key in left-side pocket groping,
Cries, "Tis but opening of that door,
"To prove myself a cuckold, her a whore."
They all desir'd his leave that they might go;.
They were not curious of so vile a show:
Persons concerned might one another see,
And they'd believe since witnesses were three.
And they, thus prov'd to be such foolish elves,
Might hear, try, judge, and e'en condemn them-
selves.

Discretion covers that which it would blame,
Until some secret blush and hidden shame
Have cur'd the fault without the noise of fame.-
The work is done: and now let Ovid have
Some gratitude attending on his grave;
Th' aspiring palm, the verdant laurel strow,
And sweets of myrtle wreaths around it throw
In physic's art as Podalirius skill'd,
Nestor in court, Achilles in the field;
As Ajax had in single combat force,
And as Automedon best rul'd the horse;
As Chalcas versed in prophecies from Jove;
So Ovid has the mastership of love.
The poet's honour will be much the less
Than that which by his means you may possess
In choice of beauty's lasting happiness.
But when the Amazonian quits the field,
Let this be wrote on the triumphant shield,
That she by Ovid's art was brought to yield.

When Ovid's thoughts in British style you see,
Which mayn't so sounding as the Roman be;
Yet then admittance grant: 'tis fame to me.

PART XI.

I, WHO the art of war to Danaans gave,
Will make Penthesilea's force as brave:
That both, becoming glorious to the sight,
With equal arms may hold a dubious fight.
What though 'twas Vulcan fram'd Achilles' shield,
My Amazonian darts shall make him yield.

A myrtle-crown with victory attends

Those who are Cupid's and Dione's friends.
When Beauty has so many arms in store,

(Some men will say) why should you give it more?
Tell me who, when Penelope appears
With constancy maintain'd for twenty years.
Who can the fair Laodamia see

In her lord's arms expire as well as he;
Can view Alcestis, who with joy removes
From Earth, instead of him she so much loves;
Can hear of bright Evadne, who, in fires
For her lov'd Capaneus prepar'd, expires;
When Virtue has itself a female name,
So Truth, so Goodness, Piety, and Fame,
Would headstrong fight and would not conquer'd
Or stoop to so much generosity?

[be,

'Tis not with sword, or fire, or strength of bow,
That female warriors to their battle go:
They have no stratagem, or subtile wile;
Their native innocence can ne'er beguile:
The fox's various maze, bear's cruel den,
They leave to fierceness and the craft of men.

'Twas Jason that transferr'd his broken vows
From kind Medea to another spouse:
Thesetis left Guossis on the sands, to be
Prey to the birds, or monsters of the sea:
Demophoon, nine times recall'd, forbore
Return, and let his Phyllis name the shore..
Aneas wreckt, and hospitably us'd,
Fam'd for his piety, yet still refus'd

To stay where lov'd, but left the dangerous sword
By which she died to whom he broke his word.
Pitcous examples! worthy better fate,
If my instructions had not come too late:
For then their art and prudence had retain'd
What first victorious rays of beauty gain'd.
Whilst thus I thought, not without grief to find
Defenceless Virture meet with fate unkind,
Bright Cytherea's sacred voice did reach
My tingling ears, and thus she bade me teach :
"What had the harmless maid deserv'd from
thee?

Thou hast given weapons to her enemy?
Whilst in the field she must defenceless stand,
With want of skill, and more unable hand.
Stesichorus, who would no subject find
But harm to maids, was by the gods struck blind:
But, when his song did with their glories rise,
He had his own restor'd to praise their eyes..
Be rul'd by me, and arms defensive give;
'Tis by the ladies' favours you must live."

She then one mystic leaf with berries four (Pluckt from her myrtle-crown) bade me with speed devour.

I find the power inspir'd; through purer sky
My breath dissolves in verse, to make young
lovers die.

Here Modesty and Innocence shall learn
How they may truth from flattering speech discern.
But come with speed; lose not the flying day.
See how the crowding waves roll down away,
And neither, though at Love's command, will stay.
These waves and time we never can recall;
But, as the minutes pass, must lose them all.
Nor like what's past are days succeeding good,
But slide with warmth decay'd and thicker blood.
Flora, although a goddess, yet does fear
The change that grows with the declining year;
Whilst glistering snakes, by casting off their skin,
Fresh courage gain, and life renew'd begin.
The eagles cast their bills, the stag its horn;
But Beauty to that blessing is not born.

Thus Nature prompts its use to forward love,
Grac'd by examples of the powers above.
Endymion pierc'd the chaste Diana's heart,
And cool Aurora felt Love's fiery dart.

PART XII.

A PERSON of some quality
Happen'd, they say, in love to be
With one who held him by delay,
Would neither say him no or ay;
Nor would she have him go his way.
This lady thought it best to send
For some experienc'd trusty friend,
To whom she might her mind impart,
T'unchain her own, and bind his heart;
A tire-woman by occupation,
A useful and a choice vocation,

She saw all, heard all, never idle;
Her fingers or her tongue would fiddle;
Diverting with a kind of wit,
Aiming at all, would sometimes hit;
Though in her sort of rambling way
She many a serious truth would say.
Thus in much talk among the rest
The oracle itself exprest:

"I've heard some cry, Well, I profess
There's nothing to be gain'd by dress!
They might as well say that a field,
Uncultivated, yet would yield

As good a crop, as that which skill
With utmost diligence should till;
Our vintage would be very fine,
If nobody should prune their vine!
Good shape and air, it is confest,
Is given to such as Heaven has blest;
But all folks have not the same graces:
There is distinction in our faces.
There was a time I'd not repine
For any thing amiss in mine,
Which, though I say it, still seems fair;
Thanks to my art as well as care!
Our grandmothers, they tell us, wore
Their fardinale and their bandore,
Their pinners, forehead-cloth, and ruff,
Content with their own cloth and stuff;
With hats upon their pates like hives;
Things might become such soldiers' wives;
Thought their own faces still would last them
In the same mould which Nature cast them.
Dark paper buildings then stood thick;
No palaces of stone or brick:
And then, alas! were no exchanges:
But see how time and fashion changes!
I hate old things and age.
I see,
Thank Heaven, times good enough for me.
Your goldsmiths now are mighty neat:
I love the air of Lombard-street.
Whate'er a ship from India brings,
Pearls, diamonds, silks, are pretty things.
The cabinet, the screen, the fan,
Please me extremely, if Japan:
And, what affects me still the more,
They had none of them heretofore.
When you 're unmarried, never load ye
With jewels; they may incommode ye.
Lovers mayn't dare approach; but mostly
They'll fear when married you'll be costly.
Fine rings and lockets best are tried,
When given to you as a bride.
In the mean time you show your sense
By going fine at small expense.
Sometimes your hair you upwards furl,
Sometimes lay down in favourite curl:
All must through twenty fiddlings pass,
Which none can teach you but your glass:
Sometimes they must dishevell❜d lie
On neck of polish'd ivory:

Sometimes with strings of pearl they're fix'd,
And the united beauty mix'd;

Or, when you won't their grace unfold,
Secure them with a bar of gold.
Humour and fashions change each day;
Not birds in forests, flowers in May,
Would sooner number'd be than they.
There is a sort of negligence,
Which some esteem as excellence,

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