A man may wooe where he will, but wed where is his weard.
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A Mock Charon. Dialogue
CHA. W.
W. Charon! thou slave! thou fooll! thou cavaleer!
CHA. A slave! a fool! what traitor's voice I hear?
W. Come bring thy boat. CH. No, sir. W. No! sirrah, why?
CHA. The blest will disagree, and fiends will mutiny
At thy, at thy [un]numbred treachery.
W. Villain, I have a pass which who disdains,
I will sequester the Elizian plains.
CHA. Woes me, ye gentle shades! where shall I dwell?
He's come! It is not safe to be in hell.
CHORUS.
Thus man, his honor lost, falls on these shelves;
Furies and fiends are still true to themselves.
CHA. You must, lost fool, come in. W. Oh, let me in!
But now I fear thy boat will sink with my ore-weighty sin.
Where, courteous Charon, am I now? CHA. Vile rant!
At the gates of thy supreme Judge Rhadamant.
DOUBLE CHORUS OF DIVELS.
Welcome to rape, to theft, to perjurie,
To all the ills thou wert, we canot hope to be;
Oh, pitty us condemned! Oh, cease to wooe,
And softly, softly breath, least you infect us too.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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The Farewell
Splendidis longum valedico nugis.
Farewell fond Love, under whose childish whip,
I have serv'd out a weary Prentiship;
Thou that hast made me thy scorn'd property,
To dote on Rocks, but yielding Loves to fly:
Go bane of my dear quiet and content,
Now practise on some other Patient.
Farewell false Hope that fann'd my warm desire
Till it had rais'd a wild unruly fire,
Which nor sighs cool, nor tears extinguish can,
Although my eyes out-flow'd the Ocean:
Forth of my thoughts for ever, Thing of Air,
Begun in errour, finish't in despair.
Farewell vain World, upon whose restless stage
Twixt Love and Hope I have foold out my age;
Henceforth ere sue to thee for my redress,
Ile wooe the wind, or court the wilderness;
And buried from the dayes discovery,
Study a slow yet certain way to dy.
My woful Monument shall be a Cell,
The murmur of the purling brook my knell;
My lasting Epitaph the Rock shall grone:
Thus when sad Lovers ask the weeping stone,
What wretched thing does in that Center lie?
The hollow Eccho will reply, 'twas I.
poem by Henry King
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PARADOX. That it is best for a Young Maid to marry an Old Man
Fair one, why cannot you an old man love?
He may as useful, and more constant prove.
Experience shews you that maturer years
Are a security against those fears
Youth will expose you to; whose wild desire
As it is hot, so 'tis as rash as fire.
Mark how the blaze extinct in ashes lies,
Leaving no brand nor embers when it dies
Which might the flame renew: thus soon consumes
Youths wandring heat, and vanishes in fumes.
When ages riper love unapt to stray
Through loose and giddy change of objects, may
In your warm bosom like a cynder lie,
Quickned and kindled by your sparkling eie.
Tis not deni'd, there are extremes in both
Which may the fancie move to like or loath:
Yet of the two you better shall endure
To marry with the Cramp then Calenture.
Who would in wisdom choose the Torrid Zone
Therein to settle a Plantation?
Merchants can tell you, those hot Climes were made
But at the longest for a three years trade:
And though the Indies cast the sweeter smell,
Yet health and plenty do more Northward dwell;
For where the raging Sun-beams burn the earth,
Her scorched mantle withers into dearth;
Yet when that drought becomes the Harvests curse,
Snow doth the tender Corn most kindly nurse:
Why now then wooe you not some snowy head
To take you in meer pitty to his bed?
I doubt the harder task were to perswade
Him to love you: for if what I have said
In Virgins as in Vegetals holds true,
Hee'l prove the better Nurse to cherish you.
Some men we know renown'd for wisdom grown
By old records and antique Medalls shown;
Why ought not women then be held most wise
Who can produce living antiquities?
Besides if care of that main happiness
Your sex triumphs in, doth your thoughts possess,
I mean your beauty from decay to keep;
No wash nor mask is like an old mans sleep.
Young wives need never to be Sun-burnt fear,
Who their old husbands for Umbrellaes wear:
How russet looks an Orchard on the hill
To one that's water'd by some neighb'ring Drill?
Are not the floated Medowes ever seen
To flourish soonest, and hold longest green?
You may be sure no moist'ning lacks that Bride,
Who lies with Winter thawing by her side.
She should be fruitful too as fields that joyne
Unto the melting waste of Appenine.
Whil'st the cold morning-drops bedew the Rose,
It doth nor leaf, nor smell, nor colour lose;
Then doubt not Sweet! Age hath supplies of wet
To keep You like that flowr in water set.
Dripping Catarrhs and Fontinells are things
Will make You think You grew betwixt two Springs.
And should You not think so, You scarce allow
The force or Merit of Your Marriage-Vow;
Where Maids a new Creed learn, & must from thence
Believe against their own or others sence.
Else Love will nothing differ from neglect,
Which turns not to a vertue each defect.
Ile say no more but this; you women make
Your Childrens reck'ning by the Almanake.
I like it well, so you contented are,
To choose their Fathers by that Kalendar.
Turn then old Erra Pater, and there see
According to lifes posture and degree,
What age or what complexion is most fit
To make an English Maid happy by it;
And You shall find, if You will choose a man,
Set justly for Your own Meridian,
Though You perhaps let One and Twenty woo,
Your elevation is for Fifty Two.
poem by Henry King
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An EPISTLE from Alexander to Hephaestion In His Sickness
WITH such a Pulse, with such disorder'd Veins,
Such lab'ring Breath, as thy Disease constrains;
With failing Eyes, that scarce the Light endure,
(So long unclos'd, they've watch'd thy doubtful Cure)
To his Hephaestion Alexander writes,
To soothe thy Days, and wing thy sleepless Nights,
I send thee Love: Oh! that I could impart,
As well my vital Spirits to thy Heart!
That, when the fierce Distemper thine wou'd quell,
They might renew the Fight, and the cold Foe repel.
As on Arbela's Plains we turn'd the Day,
When Persians through our Troops had mow'd their way,
When the rough Scythians on the Plunder run,
And barb'rous Shouts proclaim'd the Conquest won,
'Till o'er my Head (to stop the swift Despair)
The Bird of Jove fans the supporting Air,
Above my Plume does his broad Wings display,
And follows wheresoe'er I force my way:
Whilst Aristander, in his Robe of White,
Shews to the wav'ring Host th' auspicious Sight;
New Courage it inspires in ev'ry Breast,
And wins at once the Empire of the East.
Cou'd He, but now, some kind Presage afford,
That Health might be again to Thee restor'd;
Thou to my Wishes, to my fond Embrace;
Thy Looks the same, the same Majestick Grace,
That round thee shone, when we together went
To chear the Royal Captives in their Tent,
Where Sysigambis, prostrate on the Floor,
Did Alexander in thy Form adore;
Above great Æsculapius shou'd he stand,
Or made immortal by Apelles Hand.
But no reviving Hope his Art allows,
And such cold Damps invade my anxious Brows,
As, when in Cydnus plung'd, I dar'd the Flood
T' o'er-match the Boilings of my youthful Blood.
But Philip to my Aid repair'd in haste;
And whilst the proffer'd Draught I boldly taste,
As boldly He the dangerous Paper views,
Which of hid Treasons does his Fame accuse.
More thy Physician's Life on Thine depends,
And what he gives, his Own preserves, or ends.
If thou expir'st beneath his fruitless Care,
To Rhadamanthus shall the Wretch repair,
And give strict Answer for his Errors there.
Near thy Pavilion list'ning Princes wait,
Seeking from thine to learn their Monarch's State.
Submitting Kings, that post from Day to Day,
To keep those Crowns, which at my Feet they lay,
Forget th' ambitious Subject of their Speed,
And here arriv'd, only Thy Dangers heed.
The Beauties of the Clime, now Thou'rt away,
Droop, and retire, as if their God of Day
No more upon their early Pray'rs would shine,
Or take their Incense, at his late Decline.
Thy Parisatis whom I fear to name,
Lest to thy Heat it add redoubl'd Flame;
Thy lovely Wife, thy Parisatis weeps,
And in her Grief a solemn Silence keeps.
Stretch'd in her Tent, upon the Floor she lies,
So pale her Looks, so motionless her Eyes,
As when they gave thee leave at first to gaze
Upon the Charms of her unguarded Face;
When the beauteous Sisters lowly knelt,
And su'd to those, who more than Pity felt.
To chear her now Statira vainly proves,
And at thy Name alone she sighs, and moves.
But why these single Griefs shou'd I expose?
The World no Mirth, no War, no Bus'ness knows,
But, hush'd with Sorrow stands, to favour thy Repose.
Ev'n I my boasted Title now resign,
Not Ammon's Son, nor born of Race Divine,
But Mortal all, oppress'd with restless Fears,
Wild with my Cares, and Womanish in Tears.
Tho' Tears, before, I for lost Clytus shed,
And wept more Drops, than the old Hero bled;
Ev'n now, methinks, I see him on the Ground,
Now my dire Arms the wretched Corpse surround,
Now the fled Soul I wooe, now rave upon the Wound.
Yet He, for whom this mighty Grief did spring,
Not Alexander valu'd, but the King.
Then think, how much that Passion must transcend,
Which not a Subject raises but a Friend:
An equal Partner in the vanquished Earth,
A Brother, not impos'd upon my Birth,
Too weak a Tye unequal Thoughts to bind,
But by the gen'rous Motions of the Mind.
My Love to thee for Empire was the Test,
Since him, who from Mankind cou'd chuse the best,
The Gods thought only fit for Monarch o'er the rest.
Live then, my Friend; but if that must not be,
Nor Fate will with my boundless Mind agree,
Affording, at one time, the World and Thee;
To the most Worthy I'll that Sway resign,
And in Elysium keep Hyphaestion mine.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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The Woefull Lamentation Of Jane Shore
The woefull lamentation of Jane Shore, a goldsmith's wife in London, sometime king Edward IV. his concubine. To the tune of 'Live with me,' &c.
If Rosamonde, that was so faire,
Had cause her sorrowes to declare,
Then let Jane Shore with sorrowe sing,
That was beloved of a king.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
In maiden yeares my beautye bright
Was loved dear of lord and knight;
But yet the love that they requir'd,
It was not as my friends desir'd.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
My parents they, for thirst of gaine,
A husband for me did obtaine;
And I, their pleasure to fulfille,
Was forc'd to wedd against my wille.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
To Matthew Shore I was a wife,
Till lust brought ruine to my life;
And then my life I lewdlye spent,
Which makes my soul for to lament.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
In Lombard-street I once did dwelle,
As London yet can witness welle;
Where many gallants did beholde
My beautye in a shop of golde.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
I spred my plumes, as wantons doe,
Some sweet and secret friende to wooe,
Because chast love I did not finde
Agreeing to my wanton minde.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
At last my name in court did ring
Into the eares of Englandes king,
Who came and lik'd, and love requir'd,
But I made coye what he desir'd.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
Yet Mistress Blague, a neighbour neare,
Whose friendship I esteemed deare,
Did saye, 'It was a gallant thing
To be beloved of a king.'
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
By her persuasions I was led,
For to defile my marriage-bed
And to wronge my wedded husband Shore,
Whom I had married yeares before.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
In heart and mind I did rejoyce,
That I had made so sweet a choice;
And therefore did my state resigne,
To be King Edward's concubine.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
From city then to court I went,
To reape the pleasures of content;
There had the joyes that love could bring,
And knew the secrets of a king.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
When I was thus advanc'd on highe,
Commanding Edward with mine eye,
For Mrs. Blague I in short space
Obtainde a livinge from his Grace.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
No friende I had, but in short time
I made unto promotion climbe;
But yet for all this costlye pride,
My husbande could not mee abide.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
His bed, though wronged by a king,
His heart with deadlye griefe did sting;
From England then he goes away
To end his life beyond the sea.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
He could not live to see his name
Impaired by my wanton shame;
Although a prince of peerlesse might
Did reape the pleasure of his right.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
Long time I lived in the courte,
With lords and ladies of great sorte;
And when I smil'd, all men were glad,
But when I frown'd, my prince grewe sad.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
But yet a gentle minde I bore
To helpless people, that were poore;
I still redrest the orphans crye,
And sav'd their lives condemnd to dye.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
I still had ruth on widowes tears,
I succour'd babes of tender yeares;
And never look'd for other gaine
But love and thankes, for all my paine.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
At last my royall king did dye,
And then my dayes of woe grew nighe;
When crook-back Richard got the crowne,
King Edwards friends were soon put downe.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
I then was punisht for my sin,
That I so long had lived in;
Yea, every one that was his friend
This tyrant brought to shameful end.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
Then for my lewd and wanton life,
That made a strumpet of a wife,
I penance did in Lombard-street,
In shamefull manner in a sheet:
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
Where many thousands did me viewe,
Who late in court my credit knewe;
Which made the teares run down my face,
To think upon my foul disgrace.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
Not thus content, they took from mee
My goodes, my livings, and my fee,
And charg'd that none should me relieve,
Nor any succour to me give.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
Then unto Mrs. Blague I went,
To whom my jewels I had sent,
In hope therebye to ease my want,
When riches fail'd, and love grew scant.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
But she denyed to me the same,
When in my need for them I came;
To recompense my former love,
Out of her doores shee did me shove.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
So love did vanish with my state,
Which now my soul repents too late;
Therefore example take by mee,
For friendship parts in povertie.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
But yet one friend among the rest,
Whom I before had seen distrest,
And sav'd his life, condemn'd to die,
Did give me food to succour me:
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
For which, by lawe, it was decreed
That he was hanged for that deed;
His death did grieve me so much more,
Than had I dyed myself therefore.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
Then those to whom I had done good
Durst not afford mee any food;
Whereby I begged all the day,
And still in streets by night I lay.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
My gowns beset with pearl and gold,
Were turn'd to simple garments old;
My chains and gems and golden rings,
To filthy rags and loathsome things.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
Thus was I scorn'd of maid and wife,
For leading such a wicked life;
Both sucking babes and children small,
Did make their pastime at my fall.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
I could not get one bit of bread,
Whereby my hunger might be fed:
Nor drink, but such as channels yield,
Or stinking ditches in the field.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
Thus, weary of my life, at lengthe
I yielded up my vital strength
Within a ditch of loathsome scent,
Where carrion dogs did much frequent:
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
The which now since my dying daye,
Is Shoreditch call'd, as writers saye;
Which is a witness of my sinne,
For being concubine to a king.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
You wanton wives, that fall to lust,
Be you assur'd that God is just;
Whoredome shall not escape his hand,
Nor pride unpunish'd in this land.
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
If God to me such shame did bring,
That yielded only to a king,
How shall they scape that daily run
To practise sin with every one?
Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
You husbands, match not but for love
Lest some disliking after prove;
Women, be warn'd when you are wives,
What plagues are due to sinful lives:
Then, maids and wives, in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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