Great or good, or kind or fair,
I will ne'er the more despair;
If she love me, this believe,
I will die e'er she shall grieve;
If she slight me when I woo,
I can scorn and let her go;
If she be not fit for me,
What care I for whom she be ?
AMARYLLIS I did woo,
And I courted Phillis too;
Daphne for her love I chose ;
Chloris, for that damask rose
In her cheek, I held as dear,
Yea, a thousand liked, well-near;
And, in love with all together,
Feared the enjoying either;
'Cause to be of one possess'd,
Barr'd the hope of all the rest.
LORDLY gallants, tell me this:
Though my safe content you weigh not,
In your greatness what one bliss
Have you gain'd, that I enjoy not?
You have honours, you have wealth,
I have peace, and I have health;
All the day I merry make,
And at night no care I take.
Bound to none my fortunes be;
This or that man's fall I fear not;
Him I love that loveth me;
For the rest a pin I care not.
You are sad when others chafe,
And grow merry as they laugh;
I, that hate it, and am free,
Laugh and weep as pleaseth me.
WANTONS! 'tis not your sweet eyings,
Forced passions, feigned dyings,
Gestures, temptings, tears, beguilings,
Dancings, singings, kissings, smilings,
Nor those painted sweets, with which
You unwary men bewitch,
(All united, nor asunder)
That can compass such a wonder,
Or to win you love prevail,
Where her moving virtues fail.
Beauties! 'tis not all those features
Placed in the fairest creatures,
Though their best they should discover,
That can tempt, from her, a lover.
"Tis not those soft snowy breasts,
Where love, rock'd by pleasure, rests,
Nor the nectar that we sip
From a honey-dropping lip;
Nor those eyes whence beauty's lances
Wound the heart with wanton glances;
Nor those sought delights, that lie
In love's hidden treasury,
That can liking gain, where she
Will the best-beloved be.
For, should those who think they may
Draw my love from her away,
Bring forth all their female graces,
Wrap me in their close embraces;
Practise all the arts they may,
Weep, or sing, or kiss, or pray;
One poor thought of her would arm me
So as Circe could not harm me.
Since, besides those excellencies,
Wherewith others charm the senses,
She whom I have praised so,
Yields delight for reason too.
Who could doat on thing so common,
As mere qutward-handsome woman?
Those half-beauties only win .:
Fools to let affection in.
Vulgar wits, from reason shaken,
Are with such impostures taken;
And, with all their art in love,
Wantons can but wantons move.
THE STEDFAST SHEPHERD.
HENCE, away, thou syren, leave me,
Pish! unclasp these wanton arms;
Sugar'd words can ne'er deceive me,
(Though thou prove a thousand charms);
Fie, fie, forbear,
No common snare
Can ever my affection chain:
Thy painted baits,
And poor deceits,
Are all bestow'd on me in vain..
I'm no slave to such as you be,"
Neither shall that snowy breast,
Rolling eye, and lip of ruby,
Ever rob me of my rest:
Go, go, display
Thy beauty's ray
To some more-soon-enamour'd swain:
Those common wiles,
Of sighs and smiles,
Are all bestow'd on me in vain.
I have elsewhere vow'd a duty;
Turn away thy tempting eye:
Shew not me a painted beauty,
These impostures I defy:
My spirit loaths
Where gaudy cloaths,
And feigned oaths, may love obtain:
I love her so,
Whose look swears no;
That all thy labours will be vain.
Can he prize the tainted posies
Which on every breast are worn,
That may pluck the virgin roses
From their never-touched thorn?
I can go rest
On her sweet breast,
That is the pride of Cynthia's train:
Then stay thy tongue,
Thy mermaid song
Is all bestow'd on me in vain.
He's a fool that basely dallies
Where each peasant mates with him ; Shall I haunt the thronged valleys, Whilst there's nobler hills to climb? No, no; though clowns
Are scar'd with frowns,
I know the best can but disdain :
And those I'll prove,
So will thy love
Be all bestow'd on me in vain.
I do scorn to vow a duty,
Where each lustful lad may woo:
Give me her, whose sun-like beauty
Buzzards dare not soar unto :
She, she it is
For which I would refuse no pain:
But such as you,
Fond fools, adieu;
You seek to captive me in vain.
Leave me then, you syrens, leave me, Seek no more to work my harms;
Crafty wiles cannot deceive me,
Who am proof against your charms: You labour may
The heart that constant shall remain ; And I the while
To see you spend your time in vain.
COME, my Celia, let us prove,
While we may, the sweets of love;
Time will not be ours for ever,
He at length our good will sever;
Spend not then his gifts in vain,
Suns that set may rise again;
But if once we lose the light,
'Tis with us perpetual night.
Why should we defer our joys?
Fame and rumour are but toys;
Cannot we delude the eyes
Of a few poor household spies?
Or his easier ears beguile
So removed by our wile?
'Tis no sin love's fruits to steal;
But the sweet theft to reveal,
To be taken, to be seen,
These have crimes accounted been.
THE SWEET NEGLECT.
STILL to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powder'd, still perfum'd;
Lady, it is to be presum'd,
Tho' art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.
Give me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free;
Such sweet neglect more taketh me
Than all th' adulteries of art
That strike mine eye, but not mine heart.
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