Some flegmetick Sea Captain wou'd have stay'd For Mony now, or Victuals; not have weigh'd Anchor without 'em, Thou, Will, doft not stay So much as for a Wind, but go'ft away,
Land'ft, view'ft the Country; fight'ft, put'ft all to rout, Before another cou'd be putting out!
And now the News in Town is, Davenant's come From Madagafear, fraught with Laurel home; And welcome, Will! for the first time, but prithee In thy next Voyage, bring the Gold too with thee.
To my Friend Will. Davenant, on his other Poems.
'HOU haft redeem'd us, Will, and future Times Shall not account unto the Age's Crimes great Lord of it, Donne, parted hence, no Man has ever writ
Death of pure Wit: Since the
So near him in his own Way; I wou'd commend Particulars, but then, how thou'd I end
Without a Volume; every Line of thine Wou'd ask, to praise it right, twenty of mine.
OVE, Reason, Hate, did once bespeak Three Mates to play at Barley-break;
Love, Folly took; and Reason, Fancy; And Hate conforts with Pride; fo dance they: Love coupled laft, and fo it fell
That Love and Folly were in Hell.
They break, and Love wou'd Reason meet, But Hate was nimbler on her Feet;
Fancy looks for Pride, and thither Hyes, and they two hug together: Yet this new coupling ftill doth tell That Love and Folly were in Hell.
The reft do break again, and Pride. Hath now got Reason on her Side; Hate and Fancy meet, and stand Untouch'd by Love in Folly's Hand; Folly was dull, but Love ran well, So Love and Folly were in Hell.
I Prels une more for that light Toy,
Prithee fpare me, gentle Boy!
That foolish Trifle of an Heart;
I fwear it will not do its part,
Though thou doft thine, employ'ft thy Power and Art.
For thro' long Custom it has known The little Secrets, and is grown
Sullen and wife, will have its Will,
And, like old Hawks, purfues That ftill
Which makes leaft Sport, flies only where't can kill.
Some Youth that has not made his Story, Will think perchance the Pain's the Glory; And mannerly fit out Love's Feaft; I fhall be carving of the beft,
Rudely call for the last Course 'fore the reft.
And oh! when once that Course is past, How fhort a time the Feaft doth laft! Men rise away, and scarce fay Grace, Or civilly once thank the Face
That did invite; but feek another Place.
Upon the Lady Carlifle's walking in Hampton-Court Garden.
IDST thou not find the Place infpir'd, And Flowers, as if they had defir'd No other Sun, ftart from their Beds, And for a Sight fteal out their Heads? Heardft thou not Mufick when she talkt? And didst not find, that as she walkt She threw rare Perfumes all about, Such as Bean-Bloffoms newly out, Or chafed Spices give?
I. S. I muft confefs thofe Perfumes, Tom, I did not fmell; nor found that from Her paffing by, ought fprung up new, The Flowers had all their Birth from For I paft o'er the felf-fame Walk, And did not find one fingle Stalk Of any thing that was to bring This unknown after after Spring. T. C. Dull and infenfible, coud'ft fee A thing fo near a Deity
Move up and down, and feel no Change? I S. None and fo great, were alike ftrange, I had my Thoughts, but not your Way; All are not born, Sir, to the Bay; Alas! Tom, I am Flesh and Blood, And was confulting how I could In fpite of Masks and Hoods defcry The Parts deny'd unto the Eye; I was undoing all the wore,
And had the walkt but one turn more, Eve in her firft State had not been
More naked or more plainly seen.
T. C. 'Twas well for thee fhe left the Place, There is great Danger in that Face;
But hadft thou view'd her Leg and Thigh, And upon that Discovery
Search'd after Parts that are more dear (As Fancy feldom ftops fo near) No Time or Age had ever seen So loft a thing as thou hadst been.
To Mr. Davenant, for Abfence.
Onder not if I ftay not here,
Hurt Lovers, like to wounded Deer, Must shift the Place; for standing still Leaves too much Time to know our ill:
Where is a Traitor Eye
That lets in from th' Enemy,
All that may fupplant a Heart,
"Tis time the Chief fhou'd use some Art; What parts the Object from the Sense, Wifely cuts off Intelligence,
Oh how quickly Men muft die, Should they stand all Love's Battery; Perfinda's Eyes great Mischief do, So do we know the Cannon too;
But Men are safe at diftance ftill, Where they reach not, they cannot kill, Love is a Fit and foon is past,
Ill Diet only makes it laft:
Who is still looking, gazing ever, Drinks Wine i'th' very Height of Fever,
Against Abfence.
Y whining Lover, what needs all Thefe Vows of Life Monaftical? Defpairs, Retirements, Jealoufies, And fubtile fealing up of Eyes? Come, come, be wife; return again, A Finger burnt's as great a Pain; And the fame Phyfick, felf fame Art Cures that, wou'd cure a flaming Heart; Wou'dft thou whilft yet the Fire is in But hold it to the Fire again.
If you, dear Sir, the Plague have got, What matter is't whether or not They let you in the fame House lye, Or carry you abroad to die?
He whom the Plague, or Love once takes, Every Room a Peft-Houfe makes. Abfence were good, if it were but Sense That only holds the Intelligence: Pure Love alone no hurt wou'd do, But Love is Love, and Magick too; Brings a Mistress a thousand Miles, And the fleight of Looks beguiles, Makes her entertain thee there, And the fame time your Rival here; And oh, the Devil! that she shou'd Say finer things now than the wou'd; So nobly Fancy doth supply
What the dull Senfe lets fall and die. :
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