Once more, and, faith, I will be gone,
Can he that loves ask less than one?
Nay, you may err in this,

And all your bounty wrong:

This could be call'd but half a kiss;
What we're but once to do, we should do long.
I will but mend the last, and tell
Where, how, it would have relish'd well;
Join lip to lip, and try :

Each suck the others breath,

And whilst our tongues perplexed lie, Let who will think us dead, or wish our death.

VIII.

URGING HER OF A PROMISE.

HARIS one day in discourse
Had of Love, and of his force,
Lightly promis'd she would tell
What a man she could love well :

And that promise set on fire
All that heard her with desire.
With the rest, I long expected

When the work would be effected;
But we find that cold delay,
And excuse spun every day,
As, until she tell her one,
We all fear, she loveth none.
Therefore, Charis, you must do't,
For I will so urge you to't,
You shall neither eat nor sleep,
No, nor forth your window peep,
With your emissary eye,5

To fetch in the forms go by,

5 With your emissary eye.] Oculis emissitiis. Plautus. WHAL.

And pronounce, which band or lace
Better fits him than his face :
Nay, I will not let you sit
'Fore your idol glass a whit,
To say over every purl
There; or to reform a curl;
Or with secretary Cis
To consult, if fucus this
Be as good, as was the last:-
All your sweet of life is past,
Make account, unless you can,
And that quickly, speak your Man.

IX.

HER MAN DESCRIBED BY HER OWN DICTAMEN.

F your trouble, Ben, to ease me,
I will tell what Man would please me.
I would have him, if I could,
Noble; or of greater blood;
Titles, I confess, do take me,
And a woman God did make me;
French to boot, at least in fashion,
And his manners of that nation.

Young I'd have him too, and fair,
Yet a man; with crisped hair,
Cast in thousand snares and rings,
For love's fingers, and his wings :
Chestnut colour, or more slack,
Gold, upon a ground of black.
Venus and Minerva's eyes,

For he must look wanton-wise.

To say over every purl,] i. e. to try. Purl, I believe, is wire whipt with cotton or silk, for puffing out fringe, lace, hair, &c. In some places it seems to mean the fringe itself: the old word is purrel.

Eyebrows bent, like Cupid's bow,
Front, an ample field of snow;
Even nose, and cheek withal,
Smooth as is the billiard-ball:
Chin as woolly as the peach;
And his lip should kissing teach,
Till he cherish'd too much beard,
And made Love or me afeard.

He should have a hand as soft
As the down, and shew it oft;
Skin as smooth as any rush,
And so thin to see a blush
Rising through it, ere it came;
All his blood should be a flame,
Quickly fired, as in beginners
In love's school, and yet no sinners.
'Twere too long to speak of all:
What we harmony do call,

In a body, should be there.

Well he should his clothes, too, wear,

Yet no tailor help to make him;

Drest, you still for man should take him,
And not think he'd eat a stake,
Or were set up in a brake."

Valiant he should be as fire,
Shewing danger more than ire.
Bounteous as the clouds to earth,
And as honest as his birth

All his actions to be such,

As to do no thing too much :
Nor o'er praise, nor yet condemn,
Nor out-value, nor contemn;

7 Or were set up in a brake.] The inclosure used by blacksmiths and farriers, in which they put vicious and untractable horses, which they cannot dress or shoe without that assistance, is commonly called a smith's brake. WHAL.

But see vol. iii. p. 445.

Nor do wrongs, nor wrongs receive,
Nor tie knots, nor knots unweave;
And from baseness to be free,
As he durst love truth and me.
Such a man, with every part,
I could give my very heart;
But of one if short he came,
I can rest me where I am.8

X.

ANOTHER LADY'S EXCEPTION,

PRESENT AT THE HEARING.

OR his mind I do not care,
That's a toy that I could spare :
Let his title be but great,

His clothes rich, and band sit neat,

Himself young, and face be good,
All I wish is understood.

What you please, you parts may call,
'Tis one good part I'd lie withal.

8 This lively, gallant, and graceful description is above all praise. Anacreon is not more gay, nor Catullus more elegant, nor Horace more courtly, than this poet, who is taken on the faith of the Shakspeare commentators, for a mere compound of dulness and spleen.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.1

I.

THE MUSICAL STRIFE.

A PASTORAL DIALOGUE.

She.

OME, with our voices, let us war,
And challenge all the spheres,
Till each of us be made a star,
And all the world turn ears.

He. At such a call, what beast or fowl,
Of reason empty is?

What tree or stone doth want a soul,
What man but must lose his ?

She. Mix then your notes, that we may prove
To stay the running floods;

To make the mountain quarries move,
And call the walking woods.

1 I have little to add to what is already said, (p. 282,) except that many allowances must be made for what follows. Few of these poems are dated, and fewer still bear titles explanatory of their subject. I have availed myself of such collateral helps as I could any where find; but much is necessarily left to the reader's own sagacity. The original text, which is grossly incorrect, has however been revised with great care.