SONG.

Hears not my Phillis, how the birds
Their feather'd mates salute?
They tell their passion in their words;
Must I alone be mute?-

Phillis, without frown or smile,

Sat and knotted all the while.

The god of love in thy bright eyes
Does like a tyrant reign;

But in thy heart a child he lies,
Without his dart or flame.

Phillis, without, &c.

So many months in silence past,

And yet in raging love,

Might well deserve one word at last,

My passion should approve.

Phillis, without, &c.

Must then your faithless swain expire,

And not one look obtain,

Which he, to soothe his fond desire,

Might pleasingly explain?

Phillis, without, &c.

Out of Lycophron.

What shall become of man so wise,

When he dies?

None can tell

Whether he goes to heaven or hell;

Or after a few moments dear,

He disappear,

And at last,

Perish entirely like a beast:

But women, wine, and mirth we know,
Are all the joys he has below:

Let us then ply those joys we have,
"Tis vain to think beyond the grave;

Out of our reach the Gods have laid
Of time to come th' event,
And laugh to see the fools afraid,
Of what the knaves invent.

SONG.

See Hymen comes, how his torch blazes ?
Looser loves, how dim they burn ;
No pleasures equal chaste embraces,
When we love for love return.

When fortune makes the match he rages,
And forsakes th' unequal pair;
But when love two hearts engages,
The kind God is ever there.

Regard not then high blood, nor riches;
You that would his blessings have,
Let untaught love guide all your wishes,
Hymen should be Cupid's slave.

Young virgins that yet bear your passions,
Coldly as the flint its fire,

Offer to Hymen your devotions,
He will warm you with desire.

Young men, no more neglect your duty,
To the god of nuptial vows:
Pay your long arrears to beauty,
As his chaster law allows.

Song A-la-mode.

O'er the desert, cross the meadows,
Hunters blew the merry horn;
Phoebus chas'd the flying shadows;
Echo, she reply'd, in scorn;
Still adoring,

And deploring,

Why must Thirsis lose his life?

Rivers murmur'd from their fountains,
Acorns dropping from the oaks,
Fawns came tripping o'er the mountains,
Fishes bit the naked hooks;

Still admiring,

And desiring;

When shall Phillis be a wife.

FROM HIS EPIGRAMS, OR COURT CHARACTERS.

TO MAXIMINA.

Ovid, who bid the ladies laugh,

Spoke only to the young and fair;
For thee his council were not safe,
Who of sound teeth hast scarce a pair;
If thou thy glass, or me believe,
Shun mirth, as foplings do the wind:
At Durfy's farce affect to grieve;
And let thy eyes alone be kind.

Speak not, though 'twere to give consent;
For he that sees those rotten bones,
Will dread their monumental scent,
And fly thy sighs like dying groans.

If thou art wise, see dismal plays,
And to sad stories lend thy ear;
With the afflicted spend thy days,
And laugh not above once a year.

To NISUS.

How shall we please this age?-If in a song
We put above six lines, they count it long;
If we contract it to an epigram,

As deep the dwarfish poetry they damn;
If we write plays, few see above an act,
And those lewd masks, or noisy fops distract:
Let us write satire then, and at our ease
Vex th' ill-natur'd fools we cannot please!

To CLASSICUs.

When thou art ask'd to sup abroad,

Thou swear'st thou hast but newly din'd;

That eating late does overload

The stomach, and oppress the mind:

But if Apicius make a treat,

The slend'rest summons thou obey'st,

No child is greedier of the teat,

Than thou art of the bounteous feast;

There thou wilt drink till every star

Be swallow'd by the rising sun:
Such charms hath wine we pay not for,

And mirth, at others' charge begun.
Who shuns his club, yet flies to every treat,
Does not a supper, but a reck'ning hate.

TO SEXTUS.

What business, or what hope brings thee to town, Who can'st not pimp, nor cheat, nor swear, nor lye? This place will nourish no such idle drone;

Hence, in remoter parts thy fortune try. But thou hast courage, honesty, and wit,

And one, or all these three, will give thee bread: The malice of this town thou know'st not yet; Wit is a good diversion, but base trade; Cowards will, for thy courage, call thee bully, Till all, like Thraso's, thy acquaintance shun; Rogues call thee for thy honesty, a cully! Yet this is all thou hast to live upon : Friend three such virtues, Audley had undone; Be wise, and e'er thou'rt in a jail, be gone: Of all that starving crew we saw to day, None but has kill'd his man,-or writ his play!

To SCEVA.

If Scæva for more friends thou care,

Which thy great merit cannot want;
For me an humble place prepare,

That 1 am new, make no complaint;

Thy dearest friends were strangers once like me,
Like them, in time, I an old friend may be,
If thou no want of friendly virtues sec.

To SERTORIUS,

If thou dost want a horse, thou buy'st a score,
Or if a piece of wine, thou'lt have a tun;
Swords, belts, or hats, does any cheat bring o'er;
At his own rate thou wilt have all or none.
Whil'st out of wantonness thou buy'st so fast,
Out of mere want thou wilt sell all at last.