Thou great stay'd husband still within,
Thou, thee, that's thine dost discipline;
And when thou art to progress bent,
Thou mov'st thyself and tenement,
As warlike Scythians travel'd, you
Remove your men and city too;
Then after a sad dearth and rain,
Thou scatterest thy silver train;
And when the trees grow nak'd and old,
Thou clothest them with cloth of gold,
Which from thy bowels thou dost spin,
And draw from the rich mines within.

Now hast thou chang'd thee, saint, and made Thyself a fane that's cupola'd;

And in thy wreathed cloister thou

Walkest thine own grey friar too;

Strict, and lock'd up, thou'rt hood all o'er,
And ne'er eliminat'st thy door.

On sallads thou dost feed severe,

And 'stead of beads thou drop'st a tear;
And when to rest, each calls the bell,
Thou sleep'st within thy marble cell;
Where, in dark contemplation plac'd,
The sweets of nature thou dost taste;
Who now with time thy days resolve,
And in a jelly thee dissolve.
Like a shot star, which doth repair
Upward, and rarify the air.

ANOTHER.

THE Centaur, siren, I forego,

Those have been sung, and loudly too;
Nor of the mixed sphynx I'll write,
Nor the renown'd hermaphrodite:
Behold, this huddle doth appear
Of horses, coach, and charioteer;
That moveth him by traverse law,
And doth himself both drive and draw;
Then when the sun the south doth win,
He baits him bot in his own inn:
I heard a grave and austere clerk,
Resolv'd him pilot both and bark;
That like the fam'd ship of Trever,
Did on the shore himself laver:
Yet the authentic do believe,

Who keep their judgment in their sleeve,
That he is his own double man,

And sick, still carries his sedan:

Or that like dames i'th' Land of Luyck, He wears his everlasting huyck:

But banish'd, I admire his fate,

Since neither ostracism of state,
Nor a perpetual exile,

Can force this virtue, change his soil:

For wheresoever he doth go,

He wanders with his country too.

COURANTE MONSIEUR.

THAT frown, Aminta, now hath drown'd
Thy bright front's power, and crown'd
Me that was bound.

No, no, deceived cruel, no,
Love's fiery darts

Till tipt with kisses, never kindle hearts.

Adieu, weak beauteous tyrant, see!
Thy angry flames meant me,
Retort on thee:

For know, it is decreed, proud fair,
I ne'er must die

By any scorching, but a melting eye.

A LOOSE SARABAND.

NAY, pr'ythee dear, draw nigher,
Yet closer, nigher yet;

Here is a double fire,
A dry one and a wet:
True lasting heavenly fuel
Puts out the vestal jewel,
When once we twining marry
Mad love with wild Canary.

Off with that crowned Venice

Till all the house doth flame,
We'll quench it straight in Rhenish,
Or what we must not name:
Milk lightning still assuageth,
So when our fury rageth,

As th' only means to cross it,
We'll drown it in love's posset.

Love never was well-willer,
Unto my nag or me,
Ne'er water'd us i'th' celler,
But the cheap buttery;

At th' head of his own barrels,
Where broach'd are all his quarrels,
Should a true noble master

Still make his guest his taster.

See all the world how't staggers,
More ugly drunk than we,
As if far gone in daggers,
And blood it seem'd to be:
We drink our glass of roses,
Which nought but sweets discloses ;
Then in our loyal chamber,

Refresh us with love's amber.

Now tell me, thou fair cripple,

That dumb canst scarcely see

Th' almightiness of tipple,

And th' odds 'twixt thee and thee:

What of Elisium's missing?
Still drinking, and still kissing;
Adoring plump October;

Lord! what is man, and sober?

Now, is there such a trifle

As honour, the fool's giant?
What is there left to rifle

When wine makes all parts pliant?
Let others glory follow,

In their false riches wallow,

And with their grief be merry ;

Leave me but love and sherry.

THE FALCON.

FAIR princess of the spacious air,

That hast vouchsaf'd acquaintance here,

With us are quarter'd below stairs,

That can reach heav'n with nought but pray'rs;

Who when our activ'st wings we try,

Advance a foot into the sky.

Bright heir t' th' bird imperial, From whose avenging pennons fall Thunder and lightning twisted spun ; Brave cousin-german to the sun,