« PreviousContinue »
Of her disorder'd, wild, and wilful mate:
There mourns another her unhappy state,
Held ever in restraint, and in suspect :
Another to her trusty confidant,
Laments how she is match'd to such a one,
As cannot give a woman her content :
Another grieves how she hath got a fool,
Whose bed, altho' she loath, the must endure:
And thus they all, unhappy by that means
Which they account would bring all happiness ;
Most wealthily are plagu'd with rich dittress.
Daniel's Hymen's Triumph, Love is a sickness full of woes,
All remedies refusing ;
A plant that with most cutting grows,
Most barren with best using :
More we enjoy it, more it dies ;
If not enjoy'd it fighing cries,
Love, is a torment of the mind,
A tempest everlasting;
And Jove hath made it of a kind
Not well, nor full, nor fasting :
More we enjoy it, more it dies ;
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries,
Ah, I remember well, and how can I
But evermore remember well, when first
Our fame begun ; when scarce we knew what was
The flame we felt: When as we sat and figh'd,
And look'd upon each other, and conceiv'd
Not what we aild ; yet something we did ail ;
And yet were well ; and yet we were not well :
And what was our disease, we could not tell :
Then would we kiss, then sigh, then look: And thus
In that first garden of our fimpleness
We spent our Childhood : But when years began
To reap the fruit of knowledge ; ah how then
Would me with graver looks, with sweet stern brow,
Check my presumption, and my forwardness,
Yet still would give me flow'rs; ftill would me shew
What she would have me, yet not have me know.
Daniel's Hymen's Triumph.
Love is a joy which upon pain depends ;
A drop of sweet, drown'd in a sea of fours ;
What folly doth begin, oft fury ends ;
They hate for ever, who have lov'd for hours.
E. of Sterline's Crafus.
Love spreads the wit to play, but not to arm ;
Hath many feet to walk an easy pace,
Slow to miltrust, and never apt to harm.
Lord Brooke's Muftapha.
Reason must judge of love, not love of it ;
Else Thall love ground of ev'ry mischief be :
For murther, theft, adultery, and spight,
Are but love of revenge, and others right.
Lord Brooke's Alaham.
Art thou offended that thou art belov'd ?
Remove the caule, the effect is foon remov'd :
Indent with beauty how far to extend,
Set down desire a limit where to end ;
Then charm thine eyes, that they no more may wound,
And-limit love to keep within a bound :
If thou do this; nay, then thou (halt do more ;
And bring to pass, what never was before :
Make anguilh sportive, craving all delight:
Mirih folemn, lullen, and inclin'd ro night;
Ambition lowly ; envy speaking well ;
Love his relief for niggardise to fell.
Drayton's Black Prince to the Countess of Salisbury.
Love's but a card-play, all is lost
Unless you cog; he that packs best, wins moft.
Dekker's Wonder of a Kingdom.
Soul, I must love her; destiny is weak to my affeètion,
A common love : Blush not faint breast,
That which is ever loy'd of most, is best ;
Let colder eld the strong'it objections move ;
No love's without some lust, no life without some love.
Marfion's Dutch Courtezan,
Still I'm thy captive, yet thy thoughts are free : ,
To be love's bond-man, is true liberty.
Marfion's Insatiate Countess. He that loveth many, if once known; Is justly plagu'd to be belov'd of none.
Marfion's Fawn. Triumphant Cupid that sleeps on the soft cheek Of rarest beauty ; whose throne's in ladies eyes; Whose force writh'd lightning from Jove's shaking hand, Forc'd strong Alcides to resign his club ; Pluck'd Neptune's trident from his mighty arm ; Unhelmed Mars; he, (with these trophies born, Led in but sloth, pride, plenty, drunkenness, Follow'd by folly, war, slaughter, beggary) Takes his fair throne.
I'll tell you just how long love's bred in the blood ;
Prospers as long as beauty's in the bud :
When beauty withers, luftful love grow's cold;
And ere it be half ripe, 'tis rotten old.
Day's Law Tricks. Ah what a trifle is a heart,
If once into love's hands it come!
All other griefs allow a part
To others griefs, and ask themselves but fome.
They come to us, but us love draws;
He swallows us, and never chaws :
By him, as by chain'd-shot, whole ranks do die ;
He is the tyrant pike, and we the fry.
Dr. Donne. 13
Perfection is in unity. Prefer
One woman first, and then one thing in her.
1, when I value gold, may think upon
The ductilenels, the application,
The wholefomness, the ingenuity,
From rult, from foil, from fire, ever free:
But if I love it, 'tis because 'tis made
By our new nature, use, the foul of trade.
Whoever loves, if he do not propose
The right true end of love ; he's one that goes
To sec for nothing but to make him fick.
Love, is a bear whelp born ; if we o'er lick
Our love, and force it new itrange Mapes to take,
We err, and of a lump a monster make.
Dr. Donnte Equality is no rule in love's grammar : That sole unhappiness is left to princes To marry blood : We are free disposers, And have the pow'r to equalize their bloods Up to our own ; we cannot keep it back, T'is a due debt from us.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid in the Mil. O hapless love, which being answer'd, ends ! And as a little infant cries and bends His tender brows, when rowling of his eye He hath elpy'd something that glifters nigh Which he would have ; yet give it him, away He throws it straight, and cries afresh to play With something else : Such my affection, fet On that, which I should leath, if I could get.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess. I have forgot all vain de fires, All looler thoughts, ill temp'red fires ; True love I find a pleasant fume, Whofc mod'race hcat can ne'er consume,
-Young wenches loves
Are like the course of quartans ; they may shift
And seem to cease sometimes ; and yet we see
The least distemper pulls them back again,
And seats them in their old course.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas. Hear, ye ladies that despise
What almighty love has done ; Fear examples, and be wise ;
Fair Calisto was a nun: Læda failing on the stream,
To deceive the hopes of man,
Love accounting but a dream,
Doted on a silver swan :
Danae in a brazen tower,
Where no love was, lov'd a shower.
Hear, ye ladies that are coy,
What almighty love can do ;
Fear the fierceness of the boy,
The chaste moon he makes to wooe: Vesta kindling holy fires,
Circled round about with spies ;
Never dreaming loose desires,
Doting at the altar dies.
Ilion, in a short hour higher
He can build, and once more fire.
Beanmont and Fletcher's Valentinian.
What is there good in woman to be lov'd,
When only that which makes her so, has left her?
Middleton's Women beware Women, Hear me exemplify love's Latin word. As thus; hearts join'd amore : Take a from thence, Then more is the perfect moral sense : Plural in manners, which in thee do shine Saint-like, immortal, spotless and divine : Take maway, ore in beauty's name, Craves an eternal trophy to thy fame :