He raves through leane, he rages through the fat;
What gets the master of the meale by that?
He who with talking can devoure so much,
How wo'd he eate were not his hindrance such.
BORNE I was to meet with age,
And to walke life's pilgrimage.
Much, I know, of time is spent,
Tell I can't what's resident.
Howsoever, cares adieu!
Ile have nought to say to you;
But Ile spend my comming houres,
Drinking wine, and crown'd with flowres.
FORTUNE did never favour one
Fully, without exception;
Though free she be, ther's something yet
Still wanting to her favourite.
The soft sweet mosse shall be thy bed,
With crawling woodbine overspread :
By which the silver-shedding streames
Shall gently melt thee into dreames.
Thy clothing next shall be a gowne
Made of the fleeces purest downe.
The tongues of kids shall be thy meate;
Their milke thy drinke; and thou shalt eate
The paste of filberts for thy bread,
With cream of cowslips buttered.
Thy feasting-tables shall be hills
With daisies spread, and daffadils;
Where thou shalt sit, and red-brest by,
For meat, shall give thee melody.
Ile give thee chaines and carkanets
Of primroses and violets.
A bag and bottle thou shalt have,
That richly wrought, and this as brave;
So that as either shall expresse
The wearer's no meane shepheardesse.
At sheering-times, and yearely wakes,
When Themilis his pastime makes,
There thou shalt be, and be the wit,
Nay more, the feast and grace of it.
On holy-dayes, when virgins meet
To dance the heyes with nimble feet;
Thou shalt come forth, and then appeare
The Queen of Roses for that yeere ;
And having danc't, 'bove all the best,
Carry the garland from the rest.
In wicker-baskets maids shal bring
To thee, my dearest shephardling,
The blushing apple, bashful peare,
And shame-fac't plum, all simp'ring there,
Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find
The name of Phillis in the rind
Of every straight and smooth-skin tree;
Where kissing that, Ile twice kisse thee.
To thee a sheep-hook I will send,
Be-pranckt with ribbands, to this end,
This, this alluring hook might be
Lesse for to catch a sheep then me.
Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine,
Not made of ale, but spiced wine;
To make thy maids and selfe free mirth,
All sitting neer the glitt'ring hearth.
Thou shalt have ribbands, roses, rings,
Gloves, garters, stockings, shooes, and strings
Of winning colours, that shall move
Others to lust, but me to love.
These, nay, and more, thine own shall be,
If thou wilt love and live with me.
TO HIS KINSWOMAN, MISTRESSE SUSANNA
WHEN I consider, dearest, thou dost stay But here awhile, to languish and decay; Like to these garden glories, which here be The flowrie sweet resemblances of thee:
With griefe of heart, methinks, I thus doe cry, Wo'd thou hast ne'r been born, or might'st not die.
UPON MISTRESSE SUSANNA SOUTHWELL,
HER CHEEKS.
RARE are thy cheeks, Susanna, which do show Ripe cherries smiling, while that others blow.
UPON HER EYES.
CLEERE are her eyes,
Like purest skies;
Discovering from thence
A babie there
That turns each sphere,
Like an intelligence.
HER pretty feet
Like snailes did creep
A little out, and then,
As if they played at bo-peep,
Did soon draw in agen.
TO HIS HONOURED FRIEND, SIR JOHN MINCE.
FOR civill, cleane, and circumcised wit,
And for the comely carriage of it,
Thou art the man, the onely man best known,
Markt for the true-wit of a million ;
From whom we'l reckon wit came in, but since The calculation of thy birth, brave Mince.
UPON HIS GRAY HAIRES.
FLY me not, though I be gray;
Lady, this I know you'l say,
Better look the roses red,
When with white commingled.
your haires are; mine are white;
This begets the more delight,
When things meet most opposite;
As in pictures we descry
Venus standing Vulcan by.
IF Accusation onely can draw blood,
None shall be guiltlesse, be he ne'r so good.
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