SIR JOHN SUCKLING. 1608-1642. [THE animal spirits and gallantry of Suckling are charmingly sustained in these songs. Nothing in verse can be more airy or sparkling. They have in them the brightest and finest elements of youth-manliness and gaiety, wit, grace, and refinement. In this class of light and sprightly lyrics, of which he may be considered the founder, he is unrivalled. The comparison between him and Waller is infinitely in favour of Suckling, whose ease and vivacity offer a striking contrast to the elaborate finish and careful filigree of Waller. He writes, also, more like a man of blood and high breeding. His luxurious taste and voluptuousness are native to him; while in Waller there is always the effort of art, and the consciousness of the fine gentleman.] AGLAURA. 1638. WHY THE PINING LOVER. HY so pale and wan, fond lover? Will, when looking well can't move her, Prithee why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Prithee why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame; this will not move, If of herself she will not love, TRUE LOVE. O, no, fair heretic, it needs must be And worse for thee; For were it in my power I might not love at all; Love that can flow, and can admit increase, True love is still the same; the torrid zones, It must not know: For love grown cold or hot, For that's a flame would die Then think I love more than I can express, SHE'S pretty to walk with: And witty to talk with: And pleasant too to think on. Is, her health is a stale,* And helps us to make us drink on. THE VIRTUE OF DRINKING. COME let the state stay, And drink away, * A snare or decoy. There is no business above it: The Macedon youth Left behind him this truth, Till he had what he sought, THE GOBLINS. 1646. A CATCH. FILL it up, fill it up to the brink, When the poets cry clink, And the pockets chink, Then 'tis a merry world. To the best, to the best, have at her, THE SAD ONE. FICKLE AND FALSE. AST thou seen the down in the air, HA When wanton blasts have tossed it? Or the ship on the sea, When ruder winds have crossed it? Hast thou marked the crocodile's weeping, Or the fox's sleeping? Or hast thou viewed the peacock in his pride, Or the dove by his bride, When he courts for his lechery? Oh! so fickle, oh! so vain, oh! so false, so false is she! 215 WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT. 1611-1643. [IT was of William Cartwright Ben Jonson said, 'My son, Cartwright writes like a man.' He has not left much behind to justify this eulogium; but his minor poems exhibit evidences of taste and scholarship which sufficiently explain the esteem and respect in which he was held by his contemporaries. His father, after spending a fortune, was reduced to the necessity of keeping an inn at Cirencester; but the son, obtaining a king's scholarship, was enabled to enter Westminster School, and from thence was elected a student of Christ Church, Oxford. He afterwards went into holy orders, and in 1643 was chosen junior proctor of the University. He is said to have studied sixteen hours a day, was an accomplished linguist, and added to his other graces a handsome A malignant fever that prevailed at Oxford seized upon him in 1643, and terminated his life in the thirty-second year of his age.] person. THE ORDINARY. THE PHILOSOPHY OF EATING. HEN our music is in prime, THE When our teeth keep triple time; Hungry notes are fit for knells. May lankness be No guest to me: The bag-pipe sounds when that it swells. May lankness, &c. A mooting-night brings wholesome smiles, A reading day Frights French away, The benchers dare speak Latin. A reading, &c. He that's full doth verse compose; Ne'er cherished wit; [THE author of the Purple Island and the Piscatory Eclogues. His out-of-door poetry is his best, and frequently recalls the sweetness and luxuriance of Spenser, and of his own namesake and cousin, the dramatic poet. Phineas was what honest Walton would have called 'a true brother of the nangle,' and his master-passion betrays itself in the most unexpected places. It appears even in the characters and subject of his only dramatic work, which he describes on the title-page as A Piscatory.] L OVE is the fire, dam, nurse, and seed |