The following extracts are taken from the "Six Court Comedies," written by this author, and published by Blount, in 1632.
WHAT bird fo fings, yet so does wail?
Oh 'tis the ravish'd nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu, fhe cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick fong! who is't now we hear?
None but the lark fo fhrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gates the claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she fings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat,
Poor Robin red-breast tunes his note;
Hark how the jolly cuckoos fing
Cuckoo, to welcome in the fpring.
O FOR a bowl of fat Canary,
Rich Palermo, fparkling fherry,
Some nectar elfe from Juno's dairy;
O thefe draughts would make us merry!
O for a wench (I deal in faces
And in other daintier things),
Tickled am I with her embraces;
Fine dancing in fuch fairy rings.
O for a plump fat leg of mutton,
Veal, lamb, capon, pig, and coney;
None is happy but a glutton,
None an ass but who wants money.
Wines indeed, and girls are good,
But brave victuals feast the blood.
For wenches, wine, and lufty cheer,
Jove would leap down to furfeit here.
CUPID AND CAMPASPE.
CUPID and my Campaspe play'd
At cards for kiffes; Cupid paid:
He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows,
His mother's doves, and team of sparrows;
Lofes them too: then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on 's cheek (but none knows how)
With these the chrystal of his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin;
All thefe did my Campafpe win.
At laft he fet her both his
She won, and Cupid blind doth rise.
O Love! has fhe done thus to thee?
What shall, alas! become of me!
Whom leering Cupid has betray'd
To frowns of fpite, to eyes of scorn,
And would in madness now fee torn
The boy in pieces; let her come
Hither, and lay on him her doom,
O yes! O yes! has any loft
A heart which many a figh hath coft?
Which, as a pearl, Difdain doth wear?
Here ftands the thief; let her but come
Hither, and lay on him her doom.
Is any one undone by fire,
And turn'd to ashes through defire?
Did ever any lady weep,
Being cheated of her golden fleep,
Stol'n by fick thoughts? the pirate's found,
And in her tears he fhall be drown'd.
Read his indictment: let him hear
What he's to truft to: Boy, give ear.
O CRUEL love! on thee I lay
My curse, which shall strike blind the day :
Never may fleep, with velvet hand,
Charm thine eyes with facred wand!
Thy jailors fhall be hopes and fears,
Thy prifon-mates, groans, fighs, and tears;
Thy play (to wear out weary times)
Fantastic paffions, vows, and rhimes.
Thy bread be frowns, thy drink be gall,-
Hope, like thy fool, at thy bed's head,
Mock thee, 'till madness ftrike thee dead;
As, Phaon, thou doft me with thy proud eyes:
In thee poor Sappho lives, for thee she dies.
My fhag-hair'd Cyclops come, let's ply
Our Lemnian hammers luftily.
By my wife's fparrows,
I fwear these arrows
Shall finging fly
Through many a wanton's eye.
These headed are with golden bliffes,
These filver ones feather'd with kisses,
But this of lead
Strikes a clown dead,
When in a dance
He falls into a trance,
To fee his black-brow'd lafs not bufs him,
And then whines out for death t' untruss him.
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