And watrie dangers, while thy whiter hap,

But sees these things within thy map; And viewing them with a more safe survey, Mak'st easie feare unto thee say,

"A heart thrice wall'd with oke and brasse, that man Had, first durst plow the ocean."

But thou at home, without or tyde or gale,
Canst in thy map securely saile;

Seeing those painted countries, and so guesse
By those fine shades, their substances;
And from thy compasse taking small advice,
Buy'st travell at the lowest price;

Nor are thine eares so deafe but thou canst heare,
Far more with wonder then with feare,

Fame tell of states, of countries, courts, and kings; And beleeve there be such things;

When, of these truths thy happyer knowledge lyes, More in thine eares then in thine

eyes.

And when thou hear'st by too true report,

Vice rules the most, or all at court; Thy pious wishes are, though thou not there, Vertue had, and mov'd her sphere.

But thou liv'st fearlesse; and thy face ne'r shewes Fortune when she comes, or goes;

But with thy equall thoughts prepar'd, dost stand To take her by the either hand;

Nor car'st which comes the first, the foule or faire. A wise man ev'ry way lies square;

And like a surly Oke with storms perplext,

Grows still the stronger, strongly vext.

G

Be so, bold spirit; stand center-like, unmov'd;
And be not onely thought, but prov'd
To be what I report thee, and inure

Thyselfe, if want comes to endure;
And so thou dost; for thy desires are

Confin'd to live with private Larr;
Nor curious whether appetite be fed,

Or with the first or second bread.
Who keep'st no proud mouth for delicious cates;
Hunger makes coorse meats delicates.
Canst, and unurg'd, forsake that larded fare,

Which art, not nature, makes so rare;
To taste boyl'd nettles, colworts, beets, and eate
These, and sowre herbs as dainty meat?
While soft opinion makes thy genius say,
"Content makes all ambrosia ;"

Nor is it that thou keep'st this stricter size
So much for want as exercise;

To numb the sence of dearth, which, sho'd sinne haste it,
Thou might'st but onely see't, not taste it;

Yet can thy humble roofe maintaine a quire

Of singing crickits by thy fire;

And the brisk mouse may feast her selfe with crums,
Till that the green-ey'd kitling comes;
Then to her cabbin, blest she can escape

The sudden danger of a rape;

And thus thy little well kept stock doth prove,
Wealth cannot make a life, but love.

Nor art thou so close-handed, but can'st spend,
(Counsell concurring with the end),

As well as spare; still conning o'er this theame,
To shun the first and last extreame;
Ordaining that thy small stock find no breach,
Or to exceed thy tether's reach ;

But to live round, and close, and wisely true
To thine owne selfe, and know ne to few.
Thus let thy rurall sanctuary be

Elizium to thy wife and thee;

There to disport your selves with golden measure; For seldome use commends the pleasure.

Live, and live blest; thrice happy paire; let breath,
But lost to one, be th' other's death;

And as there is one love, one faith, one troth,
Be so one death, one grave to both;

Till when, in such assurance live, ye may
Nor feare, or wish your dying day.

DIVINATION BY A DAFFADILL.

WHEN a Daffadill I see

Hanging down his head t'wards me,
Guesse I may what I must be :
First, I shall decline my head;
Secondly, I shall be dead;
Lastly, safely buryed.

TO THE PAINTER, TO DRAW HIM A PICTURE.

COME, Skilfull Lupo, now, and take

Thy Bice, thy Umber, Pink, and Lake;

And let it be thy pensil's strife
To paint a bridgeman to the life;
Draw him as like too as you can,
An old, poore, lying flatt'ring man;
His cheeks be-pimpled, red and blue
His nose and lips of mulbrie hiew.
Then for an easie fansie, place

A burling iron for his face;

Next, make his cheeks with breath to swell,

And for to speak, if possible;

But do not so, for feare, lest he

Sho'd by his breathing poyson thee.

UPON CUFFE. EPIG.

CUFFE comes to church much, but he keeps his bed
Those Sundayes onely when as briefs are read;
This makes Cuffe dull, and troubles him the most,
Because he cannot sleep i' th' church free-cost.

UPON FONE, A SCHOOL-MASTER.

EPIG.

FONE says, those mighty whiskers he do's weare,
Are twigs of birch and willow, growing there;
If so, we'll think too, when he do's condemne
Boyes to the lash, that he do's whip with them.

A LYRICK TO MIRTH.

WHILE the milder fates consent,
Let's enjoy our merryment;

Drink, and dance, and pipe, and play;
Kisse our dollies night and day;
Crown'd with clusters of the vine;
Let us sit and quaffe our wine;
Call on Bacchus, chaunt his praise;
Shake the Thyrse, and bite the Bayes;
Rouze Anacreon from the dead,
And return him drunk to bed;
Sing o're Horace; for ere long

Death will come and mar the song;
Then shall Wilson and Gotiere
Never sing or play more here.

TO THE EARL OF WESTMERLAND.

WHEN my date's done, and my gray age must die; Nurse up, great lord, this my posterity;

Weak though it be, long may it grow, and stand, Shor'd up by you, brave Earle of Westmerland.

AGAINST LOVE.

WHENERE my heart love's warmth but entertaines,
O frost! O snow! O haile! forbid the banes.
One drop now deads a spark, but if the same
Once gets a force, floods cannot quench the flame.