Part 19

Having been long engaged on better contemplations, you may, perhaps, look down on these _Juvenilia_ (most of them the issues of your youthful Muse) with some disdain; and yet the courteous reader may tell you with thanks, that they are not to be despised, being far from abortive, nor to be disowned, because they are both modest and legitimate. And thus if we have offered you a view of your younger face, our hope is you will behold it with an unwrinkled brow, though we have presented the mirror against your will.

We confess our design hath been set forward by friends that honour you, who, lest the ill publishing might disfigure these things from whence you never expected addition to your credit (sundry times endeavoured and by them defeated) furnished us with some papers which they thought authentic; we may not turn their favour into an accusation, and therefore give no intimation of their names, but wholly take the blame of this hasty and immethodical impression upon ourselves, being persons at a distance, who are fitter to bear it than those who are nearer related. In hope of your pardon we remain,

Your most devoted servants,

RICH. MARRIOT.

HEN. HERRINGMAN.

POEMS

Printed in 1657.

_Sonnet. The Double Rock._

Since thou hast view'd some Gorgon, and art grown A solid stone: To bring again to softness thy hard heart Is past my art. Ice may relent to water in a thaw; But stone made flesh Loves Chymistry ne're saw.

Therefore by thinking on thy hardness, I Will petrify; And so within our double Quarryes Wombe, Dig our Loves Tombe. 10 Thus strangely will our difference agree; And, with our selves, amaze the world, to see How both Revenge and Sympathy consent To make two Rocks each others Monument.

[_The Double Rock._] In this very typical metaphysicality of a good _second_ water (see note on Introduction), it will be observed that there is nothing archaic or irregular in the spelling except the usual 'ne'_re_' for 'ne'_er_', the insertion of the three superfluous _e_'s in lines 9, 10, and at most two or three gratuitous capitals with, if anybody pleases, the omission of the apostrophe for the possessive in ll. 6, 9, 10, and 14. 'Chymistry' I should have kept, of course, even if I had altered these others.]

_The Vow-Breaker._

When first the magic of thine eye, Usurp'd upon my liberty, Triumphing in my heart's spoil, thou Didst lock up thine in such a vow; _When I prove false, may the bright day_ _Be governed by the Moon's pale ray!_ (As I too well remember.) This Thou said'st, and seal'dst it with a kiss.

O Heavens! and could so soon that tie Relent in slack apostacy? 10 Could all thy oaths, and mortgag'd trust, Vanish? like letters form'd in dust Which the next wind scatters. Take heed, Take heed, Revolter; know this deed Hath wrong'd the world, which will fare worse By thy example than thy curse.

Hide that false brow in mists. Thy shame Ne'er see light more, but the dim flame Of funeral lamps. Thus sit and moan, And learn to keep thy guilt at home. 20 Give it no vent; for if again Thy Love or Vows betray more men, At length (I fear) thy perjur'd breath Will blow out day, and waken Death.

[Line: 9 Orig. 'Ty', no doubt on the Spenserian principle of eye-rhyme. This and some others of the shorter poems which follow have been found by Mr. Thorn-Drury in miscellanies of the period, not merely well-known ones like _Wits' Recreations_ (1641), but more obscure collections such as _Parnassus Biceps_, 1651, and _Wits' Interpreter_, 1655. The usual variants occur; but they are seldom, if ever, _me judice_ of interest. One or two I have borrowed with acknowledgement.]

_Upon a Table-Book presented to a Lady._

When your fair hand receives this little book You must not there for prose or verses look. Those empty regions which within you see, May by yourself planted and peopled be: And though we scarce allow your sex to prove Writers (unless the argument be Love); Yet without crime or envy you have room Here, both the scribe and author to become.

[_Upon a Table-Book, &c._] The title in one of Hannah's MS. copies has '_Noble_ Lady'. The person addressed does not seem to have been identified.]

_To the same Lady upon Mr. Burton's Melancholy._

If in this Glass of Humours you do find The passions or diseases of your mind, Here without pain, you safely may endure, Though not to suffer, yet to read your cure. But if you nothing meet you can apply, Then, ere you need, you have a remedy. And I do wish you never may have cause To be adjudg'd by these fantastic laws; But that this book's example may be known, By others' Melancholy, not your own. 10

[Line: 6 _MS._ '_before_ you need'--perhaps better. The lady to whom the _Anatomy_ was likely to be congenial must have been worth knowing.]

_The Farewell._

_Splendidis longùm valedico nugis._

Farewell, fond Love, under whose childish whip, I have serv'd out a weary prenti'ship; Thou that hast made me thy scorn'd property, To doat on rocks, but yielding loves to fly: Go, bane of my dear quiet and content, Now practise on some other patient.

Farewell, false Hope, that fann'd my warm desire Till it had rais'd a wild unruly fire, Which nor sighs cool, nor tears extinguish can, Although my eyes out-flow'd the Ocean: 10 Forth of my thoughts for ever, Thing of Air, Begun in error, finish'd in despair.

Farewell, vain World, upon whose restless stage 'Twixt Love and Hope I have fool'd out my age; Henceforth, ere sue to thee for my redress, I'll woo the wind, or court the wilderness; And buried from the day's discovery, Study a slow yet certain way to die.

My woful monument shall be a cell, The murmur of the purling brook my knell; 20 My lasting epitaph the rock shall groan: Thus when sad lovers ask the weeping stone, What wretched thing does in that centre lie? The hollow Echo will reply, 'twas I.

[_The Farewell._] The following are the variants of Malone MS. 22:

Lines: 4-6

To doat on those that lov'd not and to fly Love that woo'd me. Go, bane of my content, And practise ... ]

[Line: 21

And for an epitaph the rock shall groan Eternally: if any ask the stone. ]

[Line: 23 centre] compass.]

_A Blackmoor Maid wooing a fair Boy: sent to the Author by Mr. Hen. Rainolds._

Stay, lovely boy, why fly'st thou me That languish in these flames for thee? I'm black, 'tis true: why so is Night, And Love doth in dark shades delight. The whole world, do but close thine eye, Will seem to thee as black as I; Or ope 't, and see what a black shade Is by thine own fair body made, That follows thee where'er thou go; (O who, allow'd, would not do so?) 10 Let me for ever dwell so nigh, And thou shall need no other shade than I. _Mr. Hen. Rainolds._

_The Boy's Answer to the Blackmoor._

Black maid, complain not that I fly, When Fate commands antipathy: Prodigious might that union prove, Where Night and Day together move, And the conjunction of our lips Not kisses make, but an eclipse; In which the mixed black and white Portends more terror than delight. Yet if my shadow thou wilt be, Enjoy thy dearest wish: but see 10 Thou take my shadow's property, That hastes away when I come nigh: Else stay till death hath blinded me, And then I will bequeath myself to thee.

[_A Blackmoor Maid_, and _Answer._] I do not know whether the exact connexion between these two poems and Cleveland's 'Fair Nymph scorning a Black Boy' (_v. sup._, p. 42) has ever been discussed. But if 'Mr. Hen. Rainolds' is Drayton's friend, the verses printed above must have the priority, for nothing seems to be known of him after 1632.

In Rawlinson MS. 1092, fol. 271, there are curious versions of these poems (the first is ascribed to William Strode), inverting the parts 'A black boy in love with a fair maid', and 'The fair maid's answer'.]

_To a Friend upon Overbury's Wife given to her._

I know no fitter subject for your view Than this, a meditation ripe for you, As you for it. Which, when you read, you'll see What kind of wife yourself will one day be: Which happy day be near you, and may this Remain with you as earnest of my wish; When you so far love any, that you dare Venture your whole affection on his care, May he for whom you change your virgin-life Prove good to you, and perfect as this Wife. 10

[_To a Friend upon Overbury's Wife, &c._] King seems to have been fond of giving this popular production as a present, for the first of the three poems is certainly not addressed to the recipient of the others, and it seems probable that 2 and 3 are also independent. Hannah, without giving any reason, save the initials, suggests that 'A. R.' was Lady Anne Rich (_v. inf._).]

_Upon the same._

Madam, who understands you well would swear, That you the Life, and this your Copy were.

_To A. R. upon the same._

Not that I would instruct or tutor you What is a wife's behest, or husband's due, Give I this Widow-Wife. Your early date Of knowledge makes such precepts slow and late. This book is but your glass, where you shall see What yourself are, what other wives should be.

[_To A. R._]

[Line: 3 Widow-] Overbury himself being dead.]

_An Epitaph on Niobe turned to Stone._

This pile thou seest built out of flesh, not stone, Contains no shroud within, nor mould'ring bone.

This bloodless trunk is destitute of tomb Which may the soul-fled mansion enwomb.

This seeming sepulchre (to tell the troth) Is neither tomb nor body, and yet both.

_Upon a Braid of Hair in a Heart sent by Mrs. E. H._

In this small character is sent My Love's eternal monument. Whilst we shall live, know this chain'd heart Is our affection's counterpart. And if we never meet, think I Bequeath'd it as my legacy.

[_Upon a Braid of Hair, &c._] There is something rather out of the common way about this little piece. King married early and his wife died after a few years. How he loved her _The Exequy_ and _The Anniverse_ will tell in a few pages. But her initials were A. B. (Anne Berkeley) not E. H. On the other hand, his sister _E_lizabeth married Edward _H_olt, groom of the bedchamber to Charles I, who died in attendance on his master (see Elegy on him, _inf._). The verses might be fraternal, and are certainly sincere.]

_Sonnet._

Tell me no more how fair she is, I have no mind to hear The story of that distant bliss I never shall come near: By sad experience I have found That her perfection is my wound.

And tell me not how fond I am To tempt a daring Fate, From whence no triumph ever came, But to repent too late: 10 There is some hope ere long I may In silence dote myself away.

I ask no pity, Love, from thee, Nor will thy justice blame, So that thou wilt not envy me The glory of my flame: Which crowns my heart whene'er it dies, In that it falls her sacrifice.

[_Tell me no more, &c._] The heading of this famous thing as 'Sonnet' has, of course, nothing surprising in it: in fact, the successive attachment of the title to five poems in a batch here and to four more a little lower down--no one of which is a quatorzain, and hardly two of which agree in form--is a capital example of the looseness with which that title was used. MS. copies appear to have 'Sonnet' with _no_ particular addition in some cases.

On 'Tell me no more' itself see Introduction. The last two lines are, as they should be, the finest part--with the fullness of contrasted vowel-sound in 'crowns', 'heart', 'e'er', and 'dies', and the emphasis of 'her'.]

_Sonnet._

Were thy heart soft as thou art fair, Thou wer't a wonder past compare: But frozen Love and fierce disdain By their extremes thy graces stain. Cold coyness quenches the still fires Which glow in lovers' warm desires; And scorn, like the quick lightning's blaze, Darts death against affections gaze. O Heavens, what prodigy is this When Love in Beauty buried is! 10 Or that dead pity thus should be Tomb'd in a living cruelty.

[_Were thy heart, &c._] This is not much inferior except as concerns the metre.]

_Sonnet._

Go, thou that vainly dost mine eyes invite To taste the softer comforts of the night, And bid'st me cool the fever of my brain In those sweet balmy dews which slumber pain; Enjoy thine own peace in untroubled sleep, Whilst my sad thoughts eternal vigils keep.

O couldst thou for a time change breasts with me, Thou in that broken glass shouldst plainly see A heart which wastes in the slow smoth'ring fire Blown by Despair, and fed by false Desire, 10 Can only reap such sleeps as sea-men have, When fierce winds rock them on the foaming wave.

[_Go, thou that, &c._] What made the excellent Archdeacon-to-be select this in preference to 'Tell me no more' as a specimen of King's presumed 'juvenile productions' it is difficult to discover. But

Blown by Despair, and fed by false Desire

is certainly a fine line.]

_Sonnet. To Patience._

Down, stormy passions, down; no more Let your rude waves invade the shore Where blushing reason sits, and hides Her from the fury of your tides. Fit only 'tis, where you bear sway, That fools or frantics do obey; Since judgement, if it not resists, Will lose itself in your blind mists.

Fall easy, Patience, fall like rest Whose soft spells charm a troubled breast: 10 And where those rebels you espy, O in your silken cordage tie Their malice up! so shall I raise Altars to thank your power, and praise The sovereign vertue of your balm, Which cures a tempest by a calm.

[_To Patience._] So also he gave this very commonplace 'production' and the next, which is a little better.]

_Silence. A Sonnet._

Peace, my heart's blab, be ever dumb, Sorrows speak loud without a tongue: And, my perplexed thoughts, forbear To breathe yourselves in any ear: 'Tis scarce a true or manly grief, Which gads abroad to find relief.

Was ever stomach that lack'd meat Nourish'd by what another eat? Can I bestow it, or will woe Forsake me, when I bid it go? 10 Then I'll believe a wounded breast May heal by shrift, and purchase rest.

But if, imparting it, I do Not ease myself, but trouble two, 'Tis better I alone possess My treasure of unhappiness: Engrossing that which is my own No longer than it is unknown.

If silence be a kind of death, He kindles grief who gives it breath; 20 But let it rak'd in embers lie, On thine own hearth 'twill quickly die: And spite of fate, that very womb Which carries it, shall prove its tomb.

_Love's Harvest._

Fond Lunatic forbear, why dost thou sue For thy affection's pay ere it is due? Love's fruits are legal use; and therefore may Be only taken on the marriage day. Who for this interest too early call, By that exaction lose the principal.

Then gather not those immature delights, Until their riper autumn thee invites. He that abortive corn cuts off his ground, No husband but a ravisher is found: 10 So those that reap their love before they wed, Do in effect but cuckold their own bed.

[_Love's Harvest._]

[Lines: 11, 12, Malone MS. 22 has the singular: 'So he', &c.]

_The Forlorn Hope._

How long, vain Hope, dost thou my joys suspend? Say! must my expectation know no end? Thou wast more kind unto the wand'ring Greek Who did ten years his wife and country seek: Ten lazy winters in my glass are run, Yet my thought's travail seems but new begun.

Smooth quicksand which the easy world beguiles, Thou shall not bury me in thy false smiles. They that in hunting shadows pleasure take, May benefit of thy illusion make. 10 Since thou hast banish'd me from my content I here pronounce thy final banishment.

Farewell, thou dream of nothing! thou mere voice! Get thee to fools that can feed fat with noise: Bid wretches mark'd for death look for reprieve, Or men broke on the wheel persuade to live. Henceforth my comfort and best hope shall be, By scorning Hope, ne'er to rely on thee.

[_The Forlorn Hope._]

[Line: 10 _MS._ 'illusions'--perhaps better.]

[Line: 14 can] _MS._ 'will'.]

_The Retreat._

Pursue no more (my thoughts!) that false unkind, You may as soon imprison the North-wind; Or catch the lightning as it leaps; or reach The leading billow first ran down the breach; Or undertake the flying clouds to track In the same path they yesterday did rack. Then, like a torch turn'd downward, let the same Desire which nourish'd it, put out your flame.

Lo! thus I do divorce thee from my breast, False to thy vow, and traitor to my rest! 10 Henceforth thy tears shall be (though thou repent) Like pardons after execution sent. Nor shalt thou ever my love's story read, But as some epitaph of what is dead. So may my hope on future blessings dwell, As 'tis my firm resolve and last farewell.

[_The Retreat._]

[Line: 4 'first' of course = 'that first'. One naturally asks 'beach'? but perhaps unreasonably.]

[Line: 6 'rack' as a verb in this sense is interesting, and certainly not common.]

_Sonnet._

Tell me, you stars that our affections move, Why made ye me that cruel one to love? Why burns my heart her scorned sacrifice, Whose breast is hard as crystal, cold as ice?

God of Desire! if all thy votaries Thou thus repay, succession will grow wise; No sighs for incense at thy shrine shall smoke, Thy rites will be despis'd, thy altars broke.

O! or give her my flame to melt that snow Which yet unthaw'd does on her bosom grow; 10 Or make me ice, and with her crystal chains Bind up all love within my frozen veins.

[_Tell me, &c._]

[Line: 6 succession] = 'those who come after us'.]

_Sonnet._

I prithee turn that face away Whose splendour but benights my day. Sad eyes like mine, and wounded hearts Shun the bright rays which beauty darts. Unwelcome is the Sun that pries Into those shades where sorrow lies.

Go, shine on happy things. To me That blessing is a misery: Whom thy fierce Sun not warms, but burns, Like that the sooty Indian turns. 10 I'll serve the night, and there confin'd Wish thee less fair, or else more kind.

[_I prithee, &c._] Part of this is very neat and good, but it tails off.]

_Sonnet._

Dry those fair, those crystal eyes, Which like growing fountains rise To drown their banks. Grief's sullen brooks Would better flow in furrow'd looks. Thy lovely face was never meant To be the shore of discontent.

Then clear those wat'rish stars again Which else portend a lasting rain; Lest the clouds which settle there Prolong my winter all the year: 10 And the example others make In love with sorrow for thy sake.

[_Dry those fair, &c._] This piece is also claimed for Lord Pembroke (see _Preface_ to this volume). It might be his, King's, or the work of almost any lyrical poet in this collection and of many outside of it.]

_Sonnet._

When I entreat, either thou wilt not hear, Or else my suit arriving at thy ear Cools and dies there. A strange extremity! To freeze i' th' Sun, and in the shade to fry. Whilst all my blasted hopes decline so soon, 'Tis evening with me, though at high noon.

For pity to thyself, if not to me, Think time will ravish, what I lose, from thee. If my scorch'd heart wither through thy delay, Thy beauty withers too. And swift decay 10 Arrests thy youth. So thou whilst I am slighted Wilt be too soon with age or sorrow nighted.

[_When I entreat, &c._]

[Line: 6 'E-ven-ing'.]

_To a Lady who sent me a copy of verses at my going to bed._

Lady, your art or wit could ne'er devise To shame me more than in this night's surprise. Why, I am quite unready, and my eye Now winking like my candle, doth deny To guide my hand, if it had aught to write; Nor can I make my drowsy sense indite Which by your verses' music (as a spell Sent from the Sybellean Oracle) Is charm'd and bound in wonder and delight, Faster than all the leaden chains of night. 10

What pity is it then you should so ill Employ the bounty of your flowing quill, As to expend on him your bedward thought, Who can acknowledge that large love in nought But this lean wish; that fate soon send you those Who may requite your rhymes with midnight prose? Meantime, may all delights and pleasing themes Like masquers revel in your maiden dreams, Whilst dull to write, and to do more unmeet, I, as the night invites me, fall asleep. 20

[_To a Lady._] Malone MS. 22, at fol. 34, has a first draft of this poem, in which ll. 1-10 appear thus:

Doubtless the Thespian Spring doth overflow His learned bank: else how should ladies grow Such poets as to court th' unknowing time In verse, and entertain their friends in rhyme? Or you some Sybil are, sent to untie The knotty riddles of all poetry, Whilst your smooth numbers such perfections tell As prove yourself a modern oracle.

ll. 11-20 follow as in the text.]

[Line: 8 'Sybellean', though an incorrect, is a rather pretty form and good to keep. It will be remembered that as a girl's name 'Syb_e_lla' or 'Sib_e_lla' is not unknown, beside 'Sybilla' and 'Sybil'.]

[Line: 20 This outrageous assonance may have been meant in character--the poet being too much 'in the arms of Porpus' to notice it.]

[There follows in the original a piece called _The Pink_, but in the Errata acknowledgement is made that King did not write it. It is therefore omitted here.]

_To his Friends of Christ Church upon the mislike of the Marriage of the Arts acted at Woodstock._

But is it true, the Court mislik'd the play, That Christ Church and the Arts have lost the day; That _Ignoramus_ should so far excel, Their hobby-horse from ours hath born the bell?

Troth! you are justly serv'd, that would present Ought unto them, but shallow merriment; Or to your marriage-table did admit Guests that are stronger far in smell than wit.

Had some quaint bawdry larded ev'ry scene, Some fawning sycophant, or courted quean; 10 Had there appear'd some sharp cross-garter'd man Whom their loud laugh might nickname Puritan, Cas'd up in factious breeches and small ruff, That hates the surplice, and defies the cuff: Then sure they would have given applause to crown That which their ignorance did now cry down.

Let me advise, when next you do bestow Your pains on men that do but little know, You do no Chorus nor a comment lack, Which may expound and construe ev'ry Act: 20 That it be short and slight; for if 't be good Tis long, and neither lik'd nor understood.

Know 'tis Court fashion still to discommend All that which they want brain to comprehend.