Loving and Beloved

There never yet was honest man
That ever drove the trade of love;
It is impossible, nor can
Integrity our ends promove:
For Kings and Lovers are alike in this
That their chief art in reigne dissembling is.
Here we are lov'd, and there we love,
Good nature now and passion strive
Which of the two should be above,
And laws unto the other give.
So we false fire with art sometimes discover,
And the true fire with the same art do cover.
What Rack can Fancy find so high?
Here we must Court, and here ingage,
Though in the other place we die.
Oh! 'tis torture all, and cozenage;
And which the harder is I cannot tell,
To hide true love, or make false love look well.
Since it is thus, God of desire,
Give me my honesty again,
And take thy brands back, and thy fire;
I'me weary of the State I'me in:
Since (if the very best should now befal)
Loves Triumph, must be Honours Funeral.

Encouragements to a Lover

Why so pale and wan, fond lover?   
    Prythee, why so pale?   
Will, if looking well can't move her,   
    Looking ill prevail?   
    Prythee, why so pale?
Why so dull and mute, young sinner?   
    Prythee, why so mute?   
Will, when speaking well can't win her,   
    Saying nothing do't?   
    Prythee, why so mute?
Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move,   
    This cannot take her;   
If of herself she will not love,   
    Nothing can make her:   
    The Devil take her!

Ballad of a Wedding

I tell thee, Dick, where I have been,
Where I the rarest things have seen;
      Oh, things without compare!
Such sights again cannot be found
In any place on English ground,
      Be it at wake, or fair. 

At Charing-Cross, hard by the way,
Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay,
      There is a house with stairs;
And there did I see coming down
Such folk as are not in our town,
      Forty, at least, in pairs. 

Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine
(His beard no bigger though than thine)
      Walked on before the rest:
Our landlord looks like nothing to him:
The king (God bless him) 'twould undo him,
      Should he go still so dressed. 

At Course-a-Park, without all doubt,
He should have first been taken out
      By all the maids i' th' town:
Though lusty Roger there had been,
Or little George upon the Green,
      Or Vincent of the Crown. 

But wot you what? the youth was going
To make an end of all his wooing;
      The parson for him stayed:
Yet by his leave (for all his haste),
He did not so much wish all past
      (Perchance), as did the maid. 

The maid (and thereby hangs a tale)
For such a maid no Whitsun-ale
      Could ever yet produce:
No grape, that's kindly ripe, could be
So round, so plump, so soft as she,
      Nor half so full of juice. 

Her finger was so small, the ring
Would not stay on, which they did bring;
      It was too wide a peck:
And to say truth (for out it must)
It looked like the great collar (just)
      About our young colt's neck. 

Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice, stole in and out,
      As if they feared the light:
But oh! she dances such a way
No sun upon an Easter-day
      Is half so fine a sight. 

He would have kissed her once or twice,
But she would not, she was nice,
      She would not do 't in sight,
And then she looked as who should say
I will do what I list to day;
      And you shall do 't at night. 

Her cheeks so rare a white was on,
No daisy makes comparison,
      (Who sees them is undone);
For streaks of red were mingled there,
Such as are on a Catherine pear
      (The side that's next the sun).

Her lips were red, and one was thin,
Compared to that was next her chin;
      (Some bee had stung it newly);
But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face,
I durst no more upon them gaze
      Than on the sun in July.

Her mouth so small, when she does speak,
Thou 'dst swear her teeth her words did break,
      That they might passage get;
But she so handled still the matter,
They came as good as ours, or better,
      And are not spent a whit. 

If wishing should be any sin,
The Parson himself had guilty been;
      (She looked that day so purely,)
And did the youth so oft the feat
At night, as some did in conceit,
      It would have spoiled him, surely. 

Passion o' me, how I run on!
There's that that would be thought upon
      I trow, besides the bride.
The business of the kitchen's great,
For it is fit that men should eat;
      Nor was it there denied.

Just in the nick the cook knocked thrice,
And all the waiters in a trice
      His summons did obey:
Each serving-man, with dish in hand,
Marched boldly up, like our trained band,
      Presented, and away. 

When all the meat was on the table,
What man of knife or teeth was able
      To stay to be entreated?
And this the very reason was,
Before the parson could say grace,
      The company was seated.

Now hats fly off, and youths carouse,
Healths first go round, and then the house,
      The bride's came thick and thick;
And when 'twas named another's health,
Perhaps he made it hers by stealth;
      And who could help it, Dick? 

O' th' sudden up they rise and dance;
Then sit again and sigh, and glance;
      Then dance again and kiss:
Thus several ways the time did pass,
Whilst every woman wished her place,
      And every man wished his. 

By this time all were stolen aside
To counsel and undress the Bride;
      But that he must not know:
But yet 'twas thought he guessed her mind,
And did not mean to stay behind
      Above an hour or so. 

When in he came, Dick, there she lay
Like new-fallen snow melting away,
      ('Twas time I trow to part)
Kisses were now the only stay,
Which soon she gave, as who would say,
      "God b' w' ye, with all my heart." 

But just as heav'ns would have to cross it,
In came the bridemaids with the posset:
      The bridegroom eat in spite;
For had he left the Women to 't
It would have cost two hours to do 't,
      Which were too much that night.

At length the candles out, and now,
All that they had not done, they do.
      What that is, who can tell?
But I believe it was no more
Then thou and I have done before
      With Bridget, and with Nell.

Untitled [Tis now since I sate down before]

Tis now since I sate down before
That foolish Fort, a heart;
(Time strangely spent) a Year, and more,
And still I did my part:
Made my approaches, from her hand
Unto her lip did rise,
And did already understand
The language of her eyes.
Proceeded on with no lesse Art,
My Tongue was Engineer;
I thought to undermine the heart
By whispering in the ear.
When this did nothing, I brought down
Great Canon-oaths, and shot
A thousand thousand to the Town,
And still it yeelded not.
I then resolv'd to starve the place
By cutting off all kisses,
Praysing and gazing on her face,
And all such little blisses.
To draw her out, and from her strength,
I drew all batteries in:
And brought my self to lie at length
As if no siege had been.
When I had done what man could do,
And thought the place mine owne,
The Enemy lay quiet too,
And smil'd at all was done.
I sent to know from whence, and where,
These hopes, and this relief?
A Spie inform'd, Honour was there,
And did command in chief.
March, march (quoth I) the word straight give,
Lets lose no time, but leave her:
That Giant upon ayre will live,
And hold it out for ever.
To such a place our Camp remove
As will no siege abide;
I hate a fool that starves her Love
Onely to feed her pride.