English Puritan & Reformed

Nuptial Poems

George Wither (1588-1667) · 4,742 words · 21 min

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EPITHALAMIA: OR NVPTIALL POEMS UPON THE MOST BLESSED AND HAPPIE MARIAGE BETWEENE the High and Mightie Prince FREDERICK the fifth, Count Palatine of the Rhein, Duke of Bauier, &c.

AND THE MOST VERTVOVS, GRACIOVS AND THRICE EXCELLENT PRINCESSE, ELIZABETH, SOLE Daughter to our dread Sovereign, JAMES by the grace of God King of Great Britain, France and Ireland, defender of the Faith, &c.

CELEBRATED AT WHITE-HALL the fourteenth of February, 1612.

Written by GEORGE WITHER.

[illustration]

AT LONDON, Imprinted for Edward Merchant, and are to be sold at his shop over against the Cross in Paul's Churchyeard. 1612.

TO THE ALL-VER TVOVS AND THRICE EXCELLENT PRINCESSE, ELIZABETH, SOLE DAVGHTER TO OUR DREAD SOVERAIGNE, JAMES BY THE GRACE OF GOD KING OF GREAT BRITANE, FRANCE AND IRELAND, &c.

AND WIFE TO THE HIGH AND MIGHTIE PRINCE, FREDERICK THE FIFTH, COVNT PALATINE OF THE RHEIN, DVKE OF BAVIER, &c. ELECTOR AND ARCH-SEWER TO THE SACRED ROMAN EMPIRE, DVRING THE VACANCIE VICAR OF THE SAME, AND KNIGHT OF THE MOST HONORABLE ORDER OF THE GARTER:

GEORGE WITHER WISHETH ALL THE HEALTH, IOYES, HONOVRS AND FELICITIES OF THIS WORLD IN THIS LIFE, AND THE PERFECTIONS OF ETERNITIE IN THE WORLD TO COME.

To the Christian Readers.

R Eaders; for that in my book of Satirical Essays, I have been deemed over Cynicall; to show, that I am not wholly inclined to that Vain: But indeed especially, out of the love which in duty I owe to those incomparable Princes, I have in honor of their Royal Solemnities, Published these short Epithalamiaes. By which you may perceive, (how ever the world think of me) I am not of such a Churlish Constitution, but I can afford Virtue her deserved honor; and have as well an affable look to encourage Honesty; as a stern frown to cast on Villanie; If the times would suffer me, I could be as pleasing as others; and perhaps ere long I will make you amends for my former rigor; Mean while I commit this unto your censures; and bid you farewell.

G. W.

EPITHALAMION.

         B
        
        Right
        
         Northern
        
        Star, and great
        
         Mineruaes
        
        peer,
       
        Sweet
        
         Lady
        
        of this
        
         Day: Great Britons
        
        deer.
       
        Loe thy poor
        
         Vassall,
        
        that was erst so rude,
       
        With his most
        
         Rustic Satyrs
        
        to intrude,
       
        Once more like a poor
        
         Siluan
        
        now draws near;
       
        And in thy sacred
        
         Presence
        
        dares appear.
       
        Oh let not that sweet
        
         Bowe
        
        thy
        
         Browe
        
        be bent,
       
        To scar him with a
        
         Shaft
        
        of discontent.
       
        One look with
        
         Anger,
        
        nay thy gentlest
        
         Frowne,
        
        Is twice enough to cast a
        
         Greater
        
        down.
       
        My
        
         Will
        
        is ever, never to offend,
       
        These that are good; and what I here intend,
       
        Your▪
        
         Worth
        
        compels me to; For lately greeu'd,
       
        More then can be expressed, or well believed:
       
        Minding forever to abandon sport,
       
        And live exilde from places of resort;
       
        Careles of all, I yielding to security,
       
        Thought to shut up my
        
         Muse
        
        in dark obscurity.
       
        And in content, the better to repose,
       
        A lonely
        
         Groue
        
        upon a
        
         Mountain
        
        chose.
       
        East from
        
         Caer Winn,
        
        midway twixt
        
         Arle
        
        and
        
         Dis,
        
        True
        
         Springs,
        
        where
        
         Britons
        
        true
        
         Arcadia
        
        is.
       
        But ere I entered my intended course,
       
         Great Aeolus
        
        began to offer force.
       
        * The boisterous
        
         King
        
        was grown so mad with rage;
        
        That all the Earth, was but his furies stage.
       
         Fire, Air, Earth, Sea,
        
        were intermixt in one:
       
        Yet
        
         Fire,
        
        through
        
         Water, Earth,
        
        and
        
         Air
        
        shone.
       
        The
        
         Sea,
        
        as if she meant to whelme them under,
       
        Beat on the
        
         Cliffs,
        
        and rag'd more loud then thunder:
       
        And whilst the
        
         Vales
        
        she withsalt waves did fill,
       
        The
        
         Air
        
        show'rd
        
         Flouds,
        
        that drenched our highest hill,
       
        And the proud trees, that would no duty know;
       
        Lay overturned, twenties in a Rowe.
       
        Yea every Man for fear, fell to
        
         Devotion;
        
        Least the whole
        
         I will
        
        should have been drenched in th'Oceā.
       
        Which I peceiuing coniur'd up my
        
         Muse,
        
        The
        
         Spirit
        
        whose good help I sometime use;
       
        And though I meant to break her rest no more,
       
        I was then fain her aid for to implore.
       
        And by her help indeed, I came to know,
       
        Why, both the
        
         Air,
        
        and
        
         Seas,
        
        were troubled so.
       
        For having vrg'd her, that she would unfold
       
        What cause she knew: Thus much at last she told.
       
         Of late
        
        (quoth she)
        
         there is by powers Divine;
        
         A match concluded, twixt Great
        
        Thame
        
         and
        
        Rhine.
       
         Two famous
        
        Rivers,
        
         equal both to
        
        Nile▪
       
         The one, the pride of
        
        Europes
        
         greatest I will.
        
         Th'other disdaining to be closely pent,
        
         Washes a great part, of the
        
        Continent.
       
         Yet with abundance▪ doth the
        
        Wants
        
         supply,
        
         Of the still-thirsting
        
        Sea,
        
         that's never dry.
        
         And now,
        
        these,
        
         being not alone endeared,
        
         To mighty
        
        Neptune,
        
         and his watery
        
        Heard:
       
         But also to the great, and dreadful
        
        Jove
       
         With all his sacred Companies above,
        
         Both have assented by their
        
        Loves
        
         inviting:
        
         To grace (with their own presence) this
        
        Uniting.
       
        Jove
        
         called a
        
        Summons
        
         to the
        
        Worlds
        
         great wonder;
        
         T'was that we heard of late, which we thought thunder.
        
         A thousand
        
        Legions
        
         he intends to send them:
        
         Of
        
        Cherubims
        
         and
        
        Angels,
        
         to attend them:
        
         And those strong
        
        Winds,
        
         that did such blustering keep,
        
         Were but the
        
        Tritons,
        
         sounding in the
        
        Deepe;
       
         To warn each
        
        River,
        
         petty
        
        Streame
        
         and
        
        Spring,
       
         Their aide unto their
        
        Sovereign
        
         to bring.
        
         The
        
        Floods
        
         and
        
        Shewers
        
         that came so plenteous down,
        
         And lay entrencht in every
        
        Field
        
         and
        
        Town:
       
         Were but retainers to the Nobler sort,
        
         That owe their Homage at the
        
        Watrie Court.
       
         Or else the
        
        Streames
        
         not pleased with their own store,
        
         To grace the
        
        Thames,
        
         their
        
        Mistress
        
         borrowed more.
        
         Exacting for their neighboring
        
        Dales
        
         and
        
        Hills,
       
         But by consent all, naught against their wills.
        
         Yet now since in this stir, are brought to ground
        
         Many fair buildings, many hundreds drowned,
        
         And daily found, of broken Ships great store,
        
         That lie dismembered upon every shore:
        
         With diverse other mischeefes known to all
        
         This is the cause, that those great harms befall.
        
         Whilst others things, in redines did make,
        
        Hells
        
         hateful
        
        Haggs,
        
         from out their prisons brake.
        
         And spighting at this hopeful match, began
        
         To wreak their wrath, on
        
        Air, Earth, Sea
        
         and
        
        Man▪
       
         Some having shapes of
        
        Romish
        
         shavelings got
        
         Spewd out their venom: and began to plot:
        
         Which way to thwart it: others made their way
        
         With much distraction thorough
        
        land
        
         and
        
        Sea
       
         Extreamely raging. But
        
        Almighty Jove
       
         Perceaues their
        
        Hate,
        
         and
        
        Envy
        
         from above:
        
         He'le check their fury, and in irons chained,
        
         Their liberty abused, shall be restraind;
        
         He'le shut them up, from coming to molest,
        
         The Meriments of
        
        Hymens
        
         holy feast.
        
         Where shall be knit that sacred
        
        Gordian
        
         knot,
        
         Which in no age to come, shall be forgot.
        
         Which
        
        Policy
        
         nor
        
        Force
        
         shall nere vnty,
        
         But must continue to eternity.
        
         Which for the whole
        
        Worlds
        
         good was fore-decreed,
        
         With
        
        Hope
        
         expected long; now come indeed.
        
         And of whose future
        
        glory, worth,
        
         and
        
        merit
       
         Much I could speak, with
        
        a prophetic spirit.
       
        Thus by my
        
         Muses
        
        dear assistance, finding
       
        The cause of this disturbance, with more minding
       
        My Countries welfare, then my own content:
       
        And longing for to see this
        
         Tales
        
        event.
       
        My lonely life I suddenly forsook,
        
        And to the
        
         Court
        
        again, my Iorney took.
       
        Mean while I saw the furious
        
         Winds
        
        were laid;
       
        The risings of the swelling
        
         Waters
        
        staid.
       
        The
        
         Winter,
        
        gan to change in everything;
       
        And seemed to borrow mildness of the
        
         Spring.
        
        The
        
         Violet
        
        and
        
         Primerose
        
        fresh did grow;
       
        And as in
        
         April,
        
        trimd both
        
         Cops
        
        and
        
         row.
        
        The
        
         City,
        
        that I left in mourning clad,
       
        Drouping; as if it would have still been sad:
       
        I found decked up; in robes so neat, and trim,
       
        Faire
        
         Iris,
        
        would have looked but stale and dim.
       
        In her best cullors; had she there appeared.
       
        The
        
         Sorrowes
        
        of the
        
         Court
        
        I found well cleerd,
       
        Their woeful habits quite cast off, and tyr'd
       
        In such a glorious fashion; I admired.
        
        All her chief
        
         Peers
        
        and choicest
        
         beauties
        
        too
       
        In greater pomp, then
        
         Mortalls
        
        use to do;
       
        Wait as attendants;
        
         Juno's
        
        come to see;
       
        Because she hears that this solemnity
       
        Exceeds fair
        
         Hippodamia's,
        
        (where the strife
       
        Twixt
        
         her, Minerva,
        
        and lame
        
         Vulcans
        
        wife
       
        Did first arise) and with her, leads along;
       
        A noble, stately, and a mighty throng.
       
         Venus,
        
        (attended with her rarest features,
       
        Sweet lovely-smiling, and heart-moving creatures,
       
        The very fairest
        
         Jewels
        
        of her treasure,
       
        Able to move the senseless stones to pleasure▪)
       
        Of all her sweetest
        
         Saints,
        
        hath robbed their shrines;
       
        And brings them for the Courtiers
        
         Valentines.
        
        Nor doth Dame
        
         Pallas,
        
        from these triumphs lurk:
       
        Her Noblest wits, she freely sets on work.
       
        Of late, she summond them unto this place,
       
        To do your masks and
        
         Reuells,
        
        better grace.
       
        Here
        
         Mars
        
        himself to, Clad in Armor bright,
       
        Hath shown his fury, in a bloudles fight;
       
        And both on land, and water, sternely dressed,
       
        Acted his bloody
        
         Stratagems,
        
        in Iest.
       
        Which to the people, frighted by their error;
       
        With seeming wounds and death did ad more terror.
       
        Besides; to give, the greater cause of wonder;
       
         Jove
        
        did vouchsafe, a rattling peal of thunder,
        
         Cometts
        
        and
        
         Meteors
        
        by the stars exhald,
       
        Were from the
        
         Midle-region
        
        lately called:
       
        And to a place appointed, made repair,
       
        To show their fiery friscolls in the air.
       
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        People innumerable do resort;
       
        As if all
        
         Europe
        
        here would keep one Court.
       
        Yea
        
         Hymen
        
        in his safferon-coloured weed;
       
        To celebrate his rites is full agreed.
       
        All this I see; which seeing, makes me borrow,
       
        Some of their mirth a while, and lay down sorrow.
       
        And yet not this: but rather the delight,
       
        My heart doth take in the much hoped sight,
       
        Of these thy glories, long already due:
       
        And this sweet comfort, that my eyes do view.
       
        Thy happy Bridegroom;
        
         Pr: Co: Palatine,
        
        Now thy best friend and truest
        
         Valentine.
        
        Upon whose brow, my mind doth read the story,
       
        Of mighty
        
         fame;
        
        and a true future glory.
       
        Me thinks I do foresee already, how
       
         Princes,
        
        and
        
         Monarchs,
        
        at his stirrup bow.
       
        I see him shine in steel. The bloody fields
       
        Already won; and how his proud
        
         foe
        
        yields.
       
        God, hath ordained him happiness great store:
       
        And yet in nothing, is he happy more
       
        Then in thy love, (fair
        
         Princesse
        
        ) For unless
       
         Heaven,
        
        like to
        
         Man,
        
        be prone to fickleness:
       
        Thy
        
         Fortunes,
        
        must be greater in effect,
       
        Then
        
         time,
        
        makes show of, or
        
         men
        
        can expect.
       
        Yet, notwithstanding all those goods of
        
         fate;
        
        Thy
        
         Mind,
        
        shall ever be above thy
        
         state.
        
        For over, and beside thy proper merit,
       
        Our last
        
         Eliza,
        
        grants her Noble spirit.
       
        To be redoubled on thee; and your
        
         names
        
        Being both one, shall give you both one fames▪
       
        Oh blessed thou! and they to whom thou gui'st,
       
        The leave for to attend thee where thou liu'st.
       
        And haples we, that must of force let go,
       
        The matchles treasure, we esteem of so.
       
        But yet, we trust tis for our good, and thine:
       
        Or else thou shouldst not, change thy
        
         Thame
        
        for
        
         Rhyne.
        
        We hope, that this will the uniting prove,
       
        Of
        
         Countries,
        
        and of
        
         nations
        
        by your
        
         love.
        
        And that from out your blessed loins, shall come;
       
        Another terror, to the
        
         Whore of Rome:
        
        And such a stout
        
         Achilles
        
        as shall make,
       
        Her tottering Walls, and weak foundation shake.
       
        For
        
         Thetis
        
        -like, thy fortunes do require:
       
        Thy
        
         Issue
        
        should be greater, then his
        
         sire.
        
        But (
        
         gracious Princesse
        
        ) now since thus it fares:
       
        And God so well for you, and us, prepares.
       
        Since he hath daign'd such honors, for to do you
       
        And shown himself, so favorable to you.
       
        Since he hath changd your sorrows, and your sadness
       
        Into such great, and unexpected gladness.
       
        Oh now remember, for to be at leisure
       
        Sometime to think on him, amidst your pleasure!
       
        Let not these glories of the
        
         world
        
        deceive you
       
        Nor her vain favors of yourself bereave you.
       
        Consider yet, for all this Iollitie,
       
        Y'are mortal, and must feel mortality.
       
        And that God can in midst of all your Ioyes▪
       
        Quite dash this pomp, and fill you with annoys,
       
         Triumphes
        
        are fit for
        
         Princes;
        
        yet we find,
       
        They ought not wholly to take up the mind.
       
        Nor yet to be let past, as things in vain,
       
        For out of all things, wit will knowledge gain.
       
         Musique
        
        may teach, of difference in degree,
       
        The best tuned
        
         Common-Weales
        
        will framed be.
       
        And that he moves, and lives, with greatest grace;
       
        That unto
        
         Time,
        
        and
        
         Measure,
        
        tyes his pace.
       
        Then let these things be
        
         Emblems,
        
        to present.
       
        Your Mind, with a more lasting true content.
       
        When you behold the infinite resort,
       
        The glory and the splendor, of the Court:
       
        What wondrous favors, God doth here bequeath you,
       
        How many hundred thousands, are beneath you:
       
        And view with admiration your great bliss,
       
        Then with yourself you may imagine this.
       
         T'is but a blast, or transitory shade;
        
         Which in the turning of a hand, may fade.
        
         Honors, which you yourself did never win.
        
         And might, (had God been pleased) another's been.
        
         And think, if shadows have such majesty;
        
         What are the glories of eternity?
        
        Then by this image of
        
         a fight on sea,
        
        Wherein you heard the thundering canons plea;
       
        And saw flames, breaking from their Murthering throts;
       
        Which in true skirmish, fling resistles shots.
       
        Your wisdom may (and will no doubt) begin;
       
        To cast what peril a poor
        
         Soldier's
        
        in.
       
        You will conceive his miseries and cares,
       
        How many dangers, deaths and wounds he shares.
       
        Then though the most passit over, and neglect them
       
        That
        
         Rethorick,
        
        will move you to respect them.
       
        And if hereafter, you should hap to see
       
        Such
        
         Mimick Apes;
        
        (that courts disgraces be)
       
        I mean such Chamber-combatants; who never
       
        Weare other helmet, then a hat of
        
         Beuer.
        
        Or nere board
        
         Pinnace
        
        but in silken sails,
       
        And in the steed of boisterous shirts of maile,
       
        Go armed in
        
         Cambrick?
        
        if that such a
        
         Kite,
        
        (I say) should scorn an
        
         Egle
        
        in your sight:
       
        Your
        
         wisdom
        
        judge (by this experience) can:
       
        Which hath most worth,
        
         Hermaphrodite,
        
        or
        
         Man.
        
        The
        
         nights
        
        strange * prospects, made to feed the eyes;
       
        With Artfull fyres, mounted in the skies:
       
        Graced with horred claps of sulphury thunders;
       
        May make you mind,
        
         Iehouahs
        
        greater wonders.
       
        Nor is there anything, but you may thence
       
        Reape inward gain; as well as please the
        
         Sense.
        
        But pardon me
        
         (oh fairest)
        
        that am bold,
       
        My heart thus freely, plainly, to unfold.
       
        What though I know, you knew all this before:
       
        My love
        
         this
        
        shows, and that is something more.
       
        Do not, my honest service here disdain,
       
        I am a faithful, though an humble Swain.
       
        I am none of those, that have the means or place;
       
        With shows of cost to do your
        
         Nuptialls
        
        grace:
       
        But only master, of my own desire,
       
        Am hither come, with others to admire.
       
        I am not of these
        
         Heliconian
        
        wits;
       
        Whose pleasing strains the
        
         Courts
        
        know humor fits.
       
        But a poor rural
        
         Sheapheard,
        
        that for need:
       
        Can make sheep Musique, on an
        
         Oaten
        
        reed.
       
        Yet for my
        
         love
        
        (I will this be bold to boast)
       
        It is as much to you, as his that's most:
       
        Which; since I no way else, can now explain,
       
        If you will in midst of all these
        
         glories,
        
        deign
       
        To lend your ears unto my
        
         Muse
        
        so long:
       
        She shall declare it, in a
        
         wedding song.

EPITHALAMION.

         V
        
        ALENTINE, good morrow to thee,
        
        Good I wish, though none I do thee:
       
        I would wait upon thy pleasure,
       
        But I cannot be at leisure.
       
        For I owe this
        
         day,
        
        as debtor,
       
        To (a thousand times) thy better,

         Hymen
        
        now will have effected
       
        What hath been so long expected:
       
         Thame
        
        thy
        
         Mistress,
        
        now vnwedded;
       
        Soone must with a
        
         Prince
        
        be bedded.
       
        If thou wilt see her
        
         Virgin
        
        ever,
       
        Come, and do it now, or never.

        Where art thou, oh fair
        
         Aurora?
        
        Call in
        
         Uer
        
        and Lady
        
         Flora.
        
        And you daughters of the
        
         Morning,
        
        In your neat'st, and feat'st, adorning:
       
        Clear your fore-heads, and be sprightfull;
       
        That this
        
         day
        
        may seem delightful.

        All you
        
         Nimphs,
        
        that use the Mountains,
       
        Or delight in groves, and fountains;
       
         Shepheardesses,
        
        you that dally,
       
        Either upon Hill or valley;
       
        And you daughters of the
        
         Bower,
        
        That acknowledge
        
         Vestaes
        
        power.

        Oh you sleep too long; awake ye,
       
        See how
        
         Time
        
        doth overtake ye:
       
        Hark, the
        
         Lark
        
        is up and singeth,
       
        And the house, with echoes ringeth.
       
        Pretious hours, why neglect ye,
       
        Whilst affairs, thus expect ye?

        Come away, upon my blessing,
       
        The
        
         bride-chamber,
        
        lies to dressing:
       
        Strow the ways, with leaves of
        
         Roses,
        
        Some make
        
         garlands,
        
        some make
        
         poses,
        
        T'is a favor andit may joy you▪
       
        That your
        
         Mistress
        
        will employ you.

        Where's
        
         Sabrina,
        
        with her daughters;
       
        That do sport about her waters;
       
        Those that with their locks of
        
         Amber,
        
        Haunt the fruitful hills of Camber;
       
        We must have to fill the number;
       
        All the
        
         Nimphs
        
        of
        
         Trent
        
        and
        
         Humber.

        Fie; your hast, is scarce sufficing,
       
        For the
        
         Bride's
        
        awake and rising.
       
        Enter beauties, and attend her:
       
        All your helps▪ and service lend her.
       
        With your quaint'st, and new'st devises:
       
        Trim your Lady, fair
        
         Thamisis.

        See she's ready: with
        
         Ioyes
        
        greet her,
       
        Lads, go bid the
        
         Brid-groome
        
        meet her.
       
        But from rash approach advise him,
       
        Least a too much Joy surprise him.
       
        None I ere knew yet, that dared:
       
        View an
        
         Angel,
        
        unprepared.

        Now unto the
        
         Church
        
        she hies her,
       
         Envy
        
        bursts, if she espies her.
       
        In her gestures, as she paces,
       
        Are united all the
        
         Graces:
        
        Which who sees and hath his senses,
       
        Loves, inspight of all defences.

        Oh most true maiestick creature.
       
         Nobles
        
        did you note her feature
       
        Felt you not an inward motion,
       
        Tempting
        
         Love
        
        to yield devotion▪
       
        And as you were eu'n desiring.
       
        Something check you, for aspiring▪

        That's hir
        
         Ueriue
        
        which still tameth
       
        Loose desires: and bad thoughts blameth.
       
        For whilst others were unruly,
       
        She observed
        
         Diana
        
        truly:
       
        And hath by that means, obtained,
       
        Gifts of her that none have gained.

        Yon's the
        
         Bridgrome
        
        d'ye not spy him?
       
        See how all the
        
         Ladies
        
        eye him.
       
         Venus
        
        his perfection findeth,
       
        And no more
        
         Adonis
        
        mindeth:
       
        Much of him my Hart deuineth:
       
        On whose brow all
        
         Virtue
        
        shineth.

        Two such
        
         Creatures Nature
        
        would not,
       
        Let one place long keep: she should not:
       
        One she'le have, (she cares not whether)
       
        But our
        
         Loves
        
        can spare her neither.
       
        Therefore ere we'le so be spighted;
       
        They in one shall be united.

         Natures
        
        self, is well contented,
       
        By that means, to be prevented.
       
        And behold, they are retired,
       
        So conioyn'd, as we desired:
       
        Hand in hand, not only fixed,
       
        But their harts, are intermixed.

        Happy they, and we that see it,
       
        For the good of
        
         Europe
        
        be it.
       
        And hear
        
         Heaven
        
        my devotion,
       
        Make this
        
         Rhyne
        
        and
        
         Thame
        
        an
        
         Ocean:
        
        That it may with might and wonder,
       
        Whelme the pride of *
        
         Tiber
        
        under.

        Now yon *
        
         Hall
        
        their persons shroudeth,
        
        Whither all this people crowdeth.
       
        There they feasted are with plenty,
       
        Sweet
        
         Ambrosia
        
        is no deinty.
       
        Groomes quaff
        
         Nectar:
        
        for theres meeter,
       
        Yea more costly wines, and sweeter.

         Young men all,
        
        for joy go ring ye,
       
        And your merriest
        
         Carolls
        
        sing ye.
       
        Here's of
        
         Dam'zells
        
        many choices,
       
        Let them tune their sweetest voices.
       
        Fet the
        
         Muses
        
        too, to cheare them:
       
        They can ravish, all that hear them.

         Ladies,
        
        'twas their
        
         Highness
        
        pleasures,
       
        For to see you, foot the
        
         Measures:
        
        Louely gestures addeth graces,
       
        To your bright, and
        
         Angel
        
        faces.
       
        Give your active minds the bridle:
       
        Nothing worse, then to be
        
         •
        
        dle.

         Worthies,
        
        your affairs forbear ye,
       
        For the
        
         State
        
        a while may spare ye:
       
         Time
        
        was; that you loved sporting,
       
        Have you quite forgot your Courting?
       
         Joy
        
        the heart of
        
         Cares
        
        be guileth:
       
         Once a year
        
        Apollo
        
         smileth.

         Fellow shepherds,
        
        how I pray you,
       
        Can your
        
         flocks
        
        at this time stay you?
       
        Let us, also hie us thither,
       
        Lets lay all our wits together.
       
        And some
        
         Pastoral
        
        invent them,
       
        For to show the
        
         love
        
        we meant them.

         I myself
        
        though meanest stated,
       
        (And in
        
         Court
        
        now almost hated)
       
        Will knit up my
        
         Scourge,
        
        and venter
       
        In the midst of them to enter:
       
        For I know, there's no disdaining,
       
        Where I look for entertaining.

        See, me thinks the very
        
         season,
        
        As if capable of Reason;
       
        Hath lain by her native rigor,
       
        The fair
        
         Sunbeames
        
        have more vigor.
       
        They are
        
         Aeols
        
        most endeared:
       
        For the
        
         Air's
        
        stilld, and cleared.

         Fawnes,
        
        and
        
         lambs,
        
        and
        
         kidds
        
        do play,
       
        In the honor of this
        
         day.
        
        The shrill
        
         Black-bird,
        
        and the
        
         Thrushe
        
        Hops about in every bush:
       
        And among the tender twiggs,
       
        Chaunt their sweet harmonious ijgs.

        Yea, and moved by this example,
        
        They do make each
        
         Groue
        
        a
        
         temple:
        
        Where their
        
         time
        
        the best way using,
       
        They their
        
         Summer loves
        
        are choosing.
       
        And unless some
        
         Churl
        
        do wrong them.
       
        There's not an od bird, among them.

        Yet I heard as I was walking,
       
        Groues and hills by
        
         Ecchoes
        
        talking.
       
        Reeds, unto the small brooks whistling;
       
        Whilst they dancit, with pretty rushling.
       
        Then for
        
         us,
        
        to sleep twere pity:
       
        Since
        
         dumb creatures
        
        are so witty.

        But oh
        
         Titan,
        
        thou dost dally,
       
        Hie thee to thy
        
         Uesterne valley.
        
        Let this night one hour borrow;
       
        She shall payit again, tomorrow.
       
        And if thou wilt that favor do them,
       
        Send thy sister
        
         Phaebe
        
        to them.

        But she's come, her self unasked:
        
        And brings *
        
         God's
        
        and
        
         Heroes
        
        masked.
       
        None yet saw, or heard in story,
       
        Such immortal, mortal glory.
       
        View not, without
        
         preparation:
        
        Least you faint, in
        
         admiration.

        Say my
        
         Lord's,
        
        and speak truth barely,
       
        Mou'd they not exceeding rarely?
       
        Did they not such praises merit,
       
        As if
        
         flesh
        
        had all been
        
         spirit?
        
        True indeed, yet I must tell them,
       
        There was
        
         One
        
        did far excel them.

        But (alas) this is ill dealing,
       
         Night
        
        unawares away is stealing.
       
        Their delay, the poor
        
         bed
        
        wrongeth,
       
        That for
        
         Bride,
        
        with
        
         Bride groome
        
        longeth:
       
        And above all other places,
       
        Must be blest, with their embraces.

         Reuellers,
        
        then now forbear ye,
       
        And unto your rests prepare ye▪
       
        Let's a while your absence borrow,
       
         Sleep
        
        to night, and
        
         dance
        
        tomorrow.
       
        We could well allow your Courting,
       
        But twill hinder, better sporting.

        They are gone; and
        
         Night
        
        all lonely,
       
        Leaues the
        
         Bride
        
        with
        
         Bridegroom
        
        only.
       
         Muse
        
        now tell; (for thou hast power
       
        For to fly thorough wall or tower.)
       
         What contentments their harts cheereth;
        
         And how lovely she appeareth.

        And yet do not; tell it no man.
       
         Rare conceits
        
        may so grow common;
       
        Do not to the
        
         Vulgar
        
        show them,
       
        (T'is enough that
        
         thou
        
        dost know them.)
       
        Their ill harts, are but the
        
         Center,
        
        Where all misconceauings enter.

        But thou
        
         Luna
        
        that dost lightly,
       
        Haunt our downes and forests nightly.
       
        Thou that favor'st generation,
       
        And art help, to procreation:
       
        See their
        
         issue
        
        thou so cherish,
       
        I may live, to see it flourish.

        And you
        
         Planets
        
        in whose power,
       
        Doth consist, these lives of our;
       
        You that teach us
        
         Diuinations,
        
        Help with all your
        
         Constellations:
        
        For to frame in
        
         Her
        
        a creature,
       
        Blest in
        
         Fortune, wit,
        
        and
        
         Feature.

        Lastly; oh you
        
         Angels
        
        ward them,
       
        Set your sacred
        
         Spels
        
        to gard them:
       
        Chase away such fears, or terrors,
       
        As not being; seem through errors.
       
        Yea let not a
        
         dreams
        
        molesting,
       
        Make them start, when they are resting.

        But THOU chiefly; most adored;
       
        That shouldst only, be implored.
       
         Thou
        
        to whom my meaning tendeth,
       
        Whether ere in show, it bendeth:
       
         Let them rest to night from sorrow
        
         And awake with joy tomorrow.

        Oh, to my
        
         request
        
        be heedful,
       
        Grant them
        
         that,
        
        and all things needful.
       
        Let not these, my strains of
        
         Folly,
        
        Make
        
         true prayer
        
        be unholy,
       
        But, if I have here offended:
       
        Help, forgive, and see it mended.

        Daigne me
        
         this.
        
        And if my
        
         Muses
        
        Hastie issue, she peruses;
       
        Make it unto her seem grateful,
       
        Though to all the
        
         World
        
        else, hateful.
       
        But how ere, yet
        
         Soul
        
        persevere,
       
        Thus to wish her good, forever.

        THus ends the
        
         Day,
        
        together with my Song;
       
        Oh; may the Ioyes thereof continue long.
       
        Let
        
         Heavens
        
        just, all-seeing, sacred power;
       
        Fauor this happy
        
         Jubilee,
        
        of your:
       
        And bless you, in your chaste embraces so,
       
        We
        
         Britons,
        
        may behold before you go.
       
        The hopeful Issue, we shall count so dear
       
        And whom, (unborn) his foes already fear.
       
        Yea I desire, that all your sorrows may;
       
        Never be more, then they have been today,
       
        Which hoping; For acceptance now I sue,
       
        And humbly, bid your
        
         Grace,
        
        and
        
         Court
        
        adue.
       
        I saw the sight, I came for; which I know,
       
        Was more then all, then world beside could show.
       
        But if amongst
        
         Apolloes
        
        Lays you can,
       
        Be pleasd, to lend a gentle ear to
        
         Pan:
        
        Or think your Country
        
         Shepherd,
        
        loves as dear,
       
        As if he were a
        
         Courtier,
        
        or a
        
         Peer:
        
        Then I, that else must to my
        
         Cell
        
        of pain,
       
        Will joyful, tnrne unto my
        
         flock
        
        again.
       
        And there, unto my fellow
        
         sheapheards
        
        tell,
       
        Why
        
         you
        
        are loved; wherein
        
         you
        
        do excel:
       
        And when we drive our
        
         flocks
        
        a field to graze them,
       
        So chaunt your praises, that it shall amaze them:
       
        And think that
        
         Fate,
        
        hath now recald from death,
       
        Their still-lamented, sweet
        
         Elizabeth.
        
        For though they see the
        
         Court,
        
        but now and then
       
        They know
        
         desert
        
        as well as
        
         Greater
        
        men:
       
        And honord
        
         Fame,
        
        in them doth live or die;
       
        As well, as in the mouth of
        
         Majesty.
        
        But taking granted, what I here entreat:
       
        At heaven for you, my
        
         devotions
        
        beat,
       
        And though I fear,
        
         fate
        
        will not suffer me,
       
        To do you service, where your
        
         Fortunes
        
        be:
       
        How ere my skill, hath yet despised seemed,
       
        (And my vnripened wit, been misesteem'd.)
       
        When all this costly
        
         Showe,
        
        away shall flit,
       
        And not one live, that doth remember it:
       
        If
        
         Enuies
        
        trouble, let not to persevere;
       
        I will find a means, to make it known forever.

CERTAINE EPIGRAMMES CONCERNING MARIAGE.

       Epigram 1.
       
         T
        
        Is said; in Marriage above all the rest
       
        The children of a King find comforts least,
       
        Because without respect of Love, or Hate
       
        They must, and oft be, ruled by the State:
       
        But if
        
         contented Love; Religions care;
        
         Equalitie in State,
        
        and
        
         years
        
        declare
       
        A happy Match (as I suppose no less)
       
        Then rare, and great's
        
         Elizaes
        
        Happiness.

Epigram 2.

GOd was the first that Marriage did ordain,

By making One, two; and two, One again.

       Epigram 3.
       
         SOuldier; of thee I ask, for thou canst best,
        
         Having known sorrow, judge of Joy and Rest.
        
        What greater bliss, then after all thy harms,
       
        To have a wife that's fair, and lawful thine:
       
        And lying prison'd twixit her luory arms;
       
        There tell, what thou hast scapt by powers divine?
       
        How many, round thee, thou hast murdered seen;
       
        How oft thy soul hath been near hand expiring,
       
        How many times thy flesh hath wounded been:
       
        Whilst she thy fortune, and thy worth admiring,
       
        With joy of health; and pity of thy pain;
       
        Doth weep, and kiss, and kiss, and weep again.

       Epigram 4.
       
        FAire
        
         Helen
        
        having stained her husbands bed,
       
        And mortal hatred twixit two Kingdoms bred,
       
        Had still remaining in her; so much good
       
        That
        
         Heroes,
        
        for her, lost their dearest blood:
       
        Then; if with all that ill, such worth may last,
       
        Oh what is she worth, that's as fair and chaste!

       Epigram 5.
       
        OLd
        
         Orpheus,
        
        knew a good
        
         wives
        
        worth so well,
       
        That when his died, he followed her to hell:
       
        And for her loss, at the
        
         Elizean
        
        Groue,
       
        He did not only Ghosts, to pity move:
       
        But the sad Poet breathed his sighs so deep;
       
        T'is said the Devils could not choose but weep.

       Epigram 6.
       
        LOng did I wonder, and I wondered much,
       
        Rome's Church should from her Clergy take that due,
       
        Thought I why should she that contentment grutch?
       
        What, doth she all with continence indue?
       
        Noah; but why then are they debarred that state?
       
        Is she become a foe unto her own?
       
        Doth she the members of her body hate?
       
        Or is it for some other cause vnshowne?
       
        Oh yes;
        
         they find a woman's lips so dainty;
        
         They tie themselves from one; cause theile have twenty.

       Epigram 7.
       
        WOmen, as some men say, unconstant be,
       
        Perhaps a few; and so no doubt are men:
       
        Nay if their scapes, we could so plainly see,
       
        I fear, that soarce there will be one, for ten.
       
        Men, have but their own lusts that tempt to ill;
       
        Women have lusts, and men's allurements to:
       
        Alas, if their strengths cannot curb their will;
       
        What should poor women, that are weaker do?
       
        Oh they had need, be chaste, and look about them,
       
        That strive 'gainst lust within, and knaves without them.