I summe the yeares, and mee, and finde mee not

Debtor to th'old, nor Creditor to th'new,

That cannot say, My thankes I have forgot,

Nor trust I this with hopes, and yet scarce true

10This bravery is, since these times shew'd mee you.

In recompence I would show future times

What you were, and teach them to'urge towards such.

Verse embalmes vertue;'and Tombs, or Thrones of rimes,

Preserve fraile transitory fame, as much

15As spice doth bodies from corrupt aires touch.

Mine are short-liv'd; the tincture of your name

Creates in them, but dissipates as fast,

New spirits: for, strong agents with the same

Force that doth warme and cherish, us doe wast;

20Kept hot with strong extracts, no bodies last:

So, my verse built of your just praise, might want

Reason and likelihood, the firmest Base,

And made of miracle, now faith is scant,

Will vanish soone, and so possesse no place,

25And you, and it, too much grace might disgrace.

When all (as truth commands assent) confesse

All truth of you, yet they will doubt how I,

One corne of one low anthills dust, and lesse,

Should name, know, or expresse a thing so high,

30And not an inch, measure infinity.

I cannot tell them, nor my selfe, nor you,

But leave, lest truth b'endanger'd by my praise,

And turne to God, who knowes I thinke this true,

And useth oft, when such a heart mis-sayes,

35To make it good, for, such a praiser prayes.

Hee will best teach you, how you should lay out

His stock of beauty, learning, favour, blood;

He will perplex security with doubt,

And cleare those doubts; hide from you,'and shew you good,

40And so increase your appetite and food;

Hee will teach you, that good and bad have not

One latitude in cloysters, and in Court;

Indifferent there the greatest space hath got;

Some pitty'is not good there, some vaine disport,

45On this side sinne, with that place may comport.

Yet he, as hee bounds seas, will fixe your houres,

Which pleasure, and delight may not ingresse,

And though what none else lost, be truliest yours,

Hee will make you, what you did not, possesse,

50By using others, not vice, but weakenesse.

He will make you speake truths, and credibly,

And make you doubt, that others doe not so:

Hee will provide you keyes, and locks, to spie,

And scape spies, to good ends, and hee will show

55What you may not acknowledge, what not know.

For your owne conscience, he gives innocence,

But for your fame, a discreet warinesse,

And though to scape, then to revenge offence

Be better, he showes both, and to represse

60Ioy, when your state swells, sadnesse when'tis lesse.

From need of teares he will defend your soule,

Or make a rebaptizing of one teare;

Hee cannot, (that's, he will not) dis-inroule

Your name; and when with active joy we heare

65This private Ghospell, then'tis our New Yeare.

But she's not stoop'd, but rais'd; exil'd by men

She fled to heaven, that's heavenly things, that's you;

She was in all men, thinly scatter'd then,

But now amass'd, contracted in a few.

25She guilded us: But you are gold, and Shee;

Us she inform'd, but transubstantiates you;

Soft dispositions which ductile bee,

Elixarlike, she makes not cleane, but new.

Though you a wifes and mothers name retaine,

30'Tis not as woman, for all are not soe,

But vertue having made you vertue,'is faine

T'adhere in these names, her and you to show,

Else, being alike pure, wee should neither see;

As, water being into ayre rarify'd,

35Neither appeare, till in one cloud they bee,

So, for our sakes you do low names abide;

Taught by great constellations, which being fram'd,

Of the most starres, take low names, Crab and Bull,

When single planets by the Gods are nam'd,

40You covet not great names, of great things full.

So you, as woman, one doth comprehend,

And in the vaile of kindred others see;

To some ye are reveal'd, as in a friend,

And as a vertuous Prince farre off, to mee.

45To whom, because from you all vertues flow,

And 'tis not none, to dare contemplate you,

I, which doe so, as your true subject owe

Some tribute for that, so these lines are due.

If you can thinke these flatteries, they are,

50For then your judgement is below my praise,

If they were so, oft, flatteries worke as farre,

As Counsels, and as farre th'endeavour raise.

So my ill reaching you might there grow good,

But I remaine a poyson'd fountaine still;

55But not your beauty, vertue, knowledge, blood

Are more above all flattery, then my will.

And if I flatter any,'tis not you

But my owne judgement, who did long agoe

Pronounce, that all these praises should be true,

60And vertue should your beauty,'and birth outgrow.

Now that my prophesies are all fulfill'd,

Rather then God should not be honour'd too,

And all these gifts confess'd, which hee instill'd,

Your selfe were bound to say that which I doe.

65So I, but your Recorder am in this,

Or mouth, or Speaker of the universe,

A ministeriall Notary, for'tis

Not I, but you and fame, that make this verse;

I was your Prophet in your yonger dayes,

70And now your Chaplaine, God in you to praise.

  5Who have before or shall write after thee,

Their workes, though toughly laboured, will bee

Like infancie or age to mans firme stay,

Or earely and late twilights to mid-day.

Men say, and truly, that they better be

10Which be envyed then pittied: therefore I,

Because I wish thee best, doe thee envie:

O wouldst thou, by like reason, pitty mee!

But care not for mee: I, that ever was

In Natures, and in Fortunes gifts, alas,

15(Before thy grace got in the Muses Schoole

A monster and a begger,) am now a foole.

Oh how I grieve, that late borne modesty

Hath got such root in easie waxen hearts,

That men may not themselves, their owne good parts

20Extoll, without suspect of surquedrie,

For, but thy selfe, no subject can be found

Worthy thy quill, nor any quill resound

Thy worth but thine: how good it were to see

A Poëm in thy praise, and writ by thee.

25Now if this song be too'harsh for rime, yet, as

The Painters bad god made a good devill,

'Twill be good prose, although the verse be evill,

If thou forget the rime as thou dost passe.

Then write, that I may follow, and so bee

30Thy debter, thy'eccho, thy foyle, thy zanee.

I shall be thought, if mine like thine I shape,

All the worlds Lyon, though I be thy Ape.

PREGNANT again with th'old twins Hope, and Feare,

Oft have I askt for thee, both how and where

Thou wert, and what my hopes of letters were;

As in our streets sly beggers narrowly

  5Watch motions of the givers hand and eye,

And evermore conceive some hope thereby.

And now thy Almes is given, thy letter'is read,

The body risen againe, the which was dead,

And thy poore starveling bountifully fed.

10After this banquet my Soule doth say grace,

And praise thee for'it, and zealously imbrace

Thy love; though I thinke thy love in this case

To be as gluttons, which say 'midst their meat,

They love that best of which they most do eat.

10Therefore I envie them, and doe repent,

That from unhappy mee, things happy'are sent;

Yet as a Picture, or bare Sacrament,

Accept these lines, and if in them there be

Merit of love, bestow that love on mee.

Of Poets, that methinks should ease our anguish,

10Although our bodyes wither and minds languish.

Wright then, that my griefes which thine got may bee

Cured by thy charming soveraigne melodee.

  5There thou oreseest London: Here I have beene,

By staying in London, too much overseene.

Now pleasures dearth our City doth posses,

Our Theaters are fill'd with emptines;

As lancke and thin is every street and way

10As a woman deliver'd yesterday.

Nothing whereat to laugh my spleen espyes

But bearbaitings or Law exercise.

Therefore I'le leave it, and in the Country strive

Pleasure, now fled from London, to retrive.

15Do thou so too: and fill not like a Bee

Thy thighs with hony, but as plenteously

As Russian Marchants, thy selfes whole vessell load,

And then at Winter retaile it here abroad.

Blesse us with Suffolks sweets; and as it is

20Thy garden, make thy hive and warehouse this.

As kindly'as any enamored Patient

His Picture to his absent Love hath sent.

15All newes I thinke sooner reach thee then mee;

Havens are Heavens, and Ships wing'd Angels be,

The which both Gospell, and sterne threatnings bring;

Guyanaes harvest is nip'd in the spring,

I feare; And with us (me thinkes) Fate deales so

20As with the Jewes guide God did; he did show

Him the rich land, but bar'd his entry in:

Oh, slownes is our punishment and sinne.

Perchance, these Spanish businesse being done,

Which as the Earth betweene the Moone and Sun

25Eclipse the light which Guyana would give,

Our discontinued hopes we shall retrive:

But if (as all th'All must) hopes smoake away,

Is not Almightie Vertue'an India?

If men be worlds, there is in every one

30Some thing to answere in some proportion

All the worlds riches: And in good men, this,

Vertue, our formes forme and our soules soule, is.

  5In it is cherishing fyer which dryes in mee

Griefe which did drowne me: and halfe quench'd by it

Are satirique fyres which urg'd me to have writt

In skorne of all: for now I admyre thee.

And as Ayre doth fullfill the hollownes

10Of rotten walls; so it myne emptines,

Where tost and mov'd it did beget this sound

Which as a lame Eccho of thyne doth rebound.

Oh, I was dead; but since thy song new Life did give,

I recreated, even by thy creature, live.

OF that short Roll of friends writ in my heart

  Which with thy name begins, since their depart,

Whether in the English Provinces they be,

Or drinke of Po, Sequan, or Danubie,

  5There's none that sometimes greets us not, and yet

Your Trent is Lethe; that past, us you forget.

You doe not duties of Societies,

If from the'embrace of a lov'd wife you rise,

View your fat Beasts, stretch'd Barnes, and labour'd fields,

10Eate, play, ryde, take all joyes which all day yeelds,

And then againe to your embracements goe:

Some houres on us your frends, and some bestow

Upon your Muse, else both wee shall repent,

I that my love, she that her guifts on you are spent.

In my youthes morning, now late must be done;

And I as Giddy Travellers must doe,

Which stray or sleepe all day, and having lost

Light and strength, darke and tir'd must then ride post.

15If thou unto thy Muse be marryed,

Embrace her ever, ever multiply,

Be far from me that strange Adulterie

To tempt thee and procure her widowhed.

My Muse, (for I had one,) because I'am cold,

20Divorc'd her selfe: the cause being in me,

That I can take no new in Bigamye,

Not my will only but power doth withhold.

Hence comes it, that these Rymes which never had

Mother, want matter, and they only have

25A little forme, the which their Father gave;

They are prophane, imperfect, oh, too bad

To be counted Children of Poetry

Except confirm'd and Bishoped by thee.

Yet I, as long as shee from hence doth staie,

Thinke this no South, no Sommer, nor no day.

With thee my kinde and unkinde heart is run,

10There sacrifice it to that beauteous Sun:

And since thou art in Paradise and need'st crave

No joyes addition, helpe thy friend to save.

So may thy pastures with their flowery feasts,

As suddenly as Lard, fat thy leane beasts;

15So may thy woods oft poll'd, yet ever weare

A greene, and when thee list, a golden haire;

So may all thy sheepe bring forth Twins; and so

In chace and race may thy horse all out goe;

So may thy love and courage ne'r be cold;

20Thy Sonne ne'r Ward; Thy lov'd wife ne'r seem old;

But maist thou wish great things, and them attaine,

As thou telst her, and none but her, my paine.

After those learned papers which your hand

10Hath stor'd with notes of use and pleasure too,

From which rich treasury you may command

Fit matter whether you will write or doe:

After those loving papers, where friends tend

With glad griefe, to your Sea-ward steps, farewel,

15Which thicken on you now, as prayers ascend

To heaven in troupes at'a good mans passing bell:

Admit this honest paper, and allow

It such an audience as your selfe would aske;

What you must say at Venice this meanes now,

20And hath for nature, what you have for taske:

To sweare much love, not to be chang'd before

Honour alone will to your fortune fit;

Nor shall I then honour your forture, more

Then I have done your honour wanting it.

25But'tis an easier load (though both oppresse)

To want, then governe greatnesse, for wee are

In that, our owne and onely business,

In this, wee must for others vices care;

'Tis therefore well your spirits now are plac'd

30In their last Furnace, in activity;

Which fits them (Schooles and Courts and Warres o'rpast)

To touch and test in any best degree.

For mee, (if there be such a thing as I)

Fortune (if there be such a thing as thee)

35Spies that I beare so well her tyranny,

That she thinks nothing else so fit for mee;

But though she part us, to heare my oft prayers

For your increase, God is as neere mee here;

And to send you what I shall begge, his staires

40In length and ease are alike every where.