Part 20

[_To his Friends of Christ Church._] The occasion of this piece was one of those 'sorrowful chances' which befall those who endeavour to please kings, whatever their name. 'The play' was Barton Holyday's _Technogamia_, and the 'misliking' (James actually 'offered' to go away twice, though, being a good-natured person, he was persuaded to sit it out) is chronicled by Antony Wood under the author's name. It had been acted with great applause in the House itself, and two of King's younger brothers were among the performers. Also the 'frost' was made more unkind by the success at Cambridge of Ruggles's _Ignoramus_. So King's spleen, if unwise, was not quite unmotived. The date was August, 1621.]

[Line: 14 There is no probable reference to Malvolio, despite the association of 'cross-garter'd' and 'Puritan'; but the tone of the passage enables one to some extent to understand why the Puritan party conceived themselves to be deserted by King.]

_The Surrender._

My once dear Love! hapless that I no more Must call thee so; the rich affection's store That fed our hopes, lies now exhaust and spent, Like sums of treasure unto bankrupts lent.

We, that did nothing study but the way To love each other, with which thoughts the day Rose with delight to us, and with them, set, Must learn the hateful art, how to forget.

We, that did nothing wish that Heav'n could give, Beyond ourselves, nor did desire to live 10 Beyond that wish, all these now cancel must, As if not writ in faith, but words and dust.

Yet witness those clear vows which lovers make, Witness the chaste desires that never brake Into unruly heats; witness that breast Which in thy bosom anchor'd his whole rest, 'Tis no default in us; I dare acquite Thy maiden faith, thy purpose fair and white, As thy pure self. Cross planets did envy Us to each other, and Heaven did untie 20 Faster than vows could bind. O that the stars, When lovers meet, should stand oppos'd in wars!

Since then some higher Destinies command, Let us not strive nor labour to withstand What is past help. The longest date of grief Can never yield a hope of our relief; And though we waste ourselves in moist laments, Tears may drown us, but not our discontents.

Fold back our arms, take home our fruitless loves, That must new fortunes try, like turtle-doves 30 Dislodged from their haunts. We must in tears Unwind a love knit up in many years. In this last kiss I here surrender thee Back to thyself, so thou again art free. Thou in another, sad as that, resend The truest heart that lover ere did lend.

Now turn from each. So fare our sever'd hearts, As the divorc'd soul from her body parts.

[_The Surrender._] Title 'An Elegy' in Malone MS. 22.]

[Line: 13 Yet] _MS._ 'But'.]

[Line: 17 'acquite' may be for rhyme only; but if 'requite', why not?]

[Line: 34 so] _MS._ 'lo'.]

[This piece and the next must be interpreted as each reader chooses. They are not without touches of sincerity, but might as well be exercises in the school of King's great friend and master, Donne.]

_The Legacy._

My dearest Love! when thou and I must part, And th' icy hand of death shall seize that heart Which is all thine; within some spacious will I'll leave no blanks for legacies to fill: 'Tis my ambition to die one of those, Who, but himself, hath nothing to dispose.

And since that is already thine, what need I to re-give it by some newer deed? Yet take it once again. Free circumstance Does oft the value of mean things advance: 10 Who thus repeats what he bequeath'd before, Proclaims his bounty richer than his store.

But let me not upon my love bestow What is not worth the giving. I do owe Somewhat to dust: my body's pamper'd care, Hungry corruption and the worm will share. That mould'ring relic which in earth must lie, Would prove a gift of horror to thine eye.

With this cast rag of my mortality, Let all my faults and errors buried be. 20 And as my cere-cloth rots, so may kind fate Those worst acts of my life incinerate. He shall in story fill a glorious room, Whose ashes and whose sins sleep in one tomb.

If now to my cold hearse thou deign to bring Some melting sighs as thy last offering, My peaceful exequies are crown'd. Nor shall I ask more honour at my funeral. Thou wilt more richly balm me with thy tears, Than all the nard fragrant Arabia bears. 30

And as the Paphian Queen by her grief's show'r Brought up her dead Love's spirit in a flow'r: So by those precious drops rain'd from thine eyes, Out of my dust, O may some virtue rise! And like thy better Genius thee attend, Till thou in my dark period shall end.

Lastly, my constant truth let me commend To him thou choosest next to be thy friend. For (witness all things good) I would not have Thy youth and beauty married to my grave, 40 'T would show thou didst repent the style of wife, Shouldst thou relapse into a single life.

They with preposterous grief the world delude, Who mourn for their lost mates in solitude; Since widowhood more strongly doth enforce The much lamented lot of their divorce. Themselves then of their losses guilty are, Who may, yet will not, suffer a repair.

Those were barbarian wives, that did invent Weeping to death at th' husband's monument; 50 But in more civil rites she doth approve Her first, who ventures on a second love; For else it may be thought, if she refrain, She sped so ill, she durst not try again.

Up then, my Love, and choose some worthier one, Who may supply my room when I am gone; So will the stock of our affection thrive No less in death, than were I still alive. And in my urn I shall rejoice, that I Am both testator thus and legacy. 60

[_The Legacy._] The remark made above applies especially to _The Legacy_, for there are no known or likely circumstances in King's life corresponding to it; while at the same time it might be the fancy of a young lover-husband. The first six stanzas have something of the 'yew-and-roses' charm of their great originals: the last four justify the ancients in holding that extravagance too often comports frigidity.]

_The Short Wooing._

Like an oblation set before a shrine, Fair one! I offer up this heart of mine. Whether the Saint accept my gift or no, I'll neither fear nor doubt before I know. For he whose faint distrust prevents reply, Doth his own suit's denial prophesy.

Your will the sentence is; who free as Fate Can bid my love proceed, or else retreat. And from short views that verdict is decreed Which seldom doth one audience exceed. 10 Love asks no dull probation, but like light Conveys his nimble influence at first sight.

I need not therefore importune or press; This were t' extort unwilling happiness: And much against affection might I sin: To tire and weary what I seek to win. Towns which by ling'ring siege enforced be Oft make both sides repent the victory.

Be Mistress of yourself: and let me thrive Or suffer by your own prerogative. 20 Yet stay, since you are Judge, who in one breath Bear uncontrolled power of Life and Death, Remember (Sweet) pity doth best become Those lips which must pronounce a suitor's doom.

If I find that, my spark of chaste desire Shall kindle into Hymen's holy fire: Else like sad flowers will these verses prove, To stick the coffin of rejected Love.

[_The Short Wooing._] A fair average metaphysicality.]

_St. Valentine's Day_

Now that each feather'd chorister doth sing The glad approaches of the welcome Spring: Now Ph[oe]bus darts forth his more early beam And dips it later in the curled stream, I should to custom prove a retrograde Did I still dote upon my sullen shade.

Oft have the seasons finish'd and begun; Days into months, those into years have run, Since my cross stars and inauspicious fate Doom'd me to linger here without my mate 10 Whose loss ere since befrosting my desire, Left me an Altar without gift or fire.

I therefore could have wish'd for your own sake That Fortune had design'd a nobler stake For you to draw, than one whose fading day Like to a dedicated taper lay Within a tomb, and long burnt out in vain, Since nothing there saw better by the flame.

Yet since you like your chance, I must not try To mar it through my incapacity. 20 I here make title to it, and proclaim How much you honour me to wear my name; Who can no form of gratitude devise, But offer up myself your sacrifice.

Hail, then, my worthy lot! and may each morn Successive springs of joy to you be born: May your content ne'er wane until my heart Grown bankrupt, wants good wishes to impart. Henceforth I need not make the dust my shrine, Nor search the grave for my lost Valentine. 30

[_St. Valentine's Day._] I suppose, though I do not remember an instance, that in the good days before the prettiest of English customs succumbed--partly to the growth of Vulgarity and partly to the competition of the much less interesting Christmas Card--some one, or more than one, must have made a collection of _literary_ Valentines. In that case this should have figured. It has a good deal of 'Henry King, his mark'--good taste, freedom from mawkishness, melody, and enough poetical essence to save it from the merely mediocre. The coincidence of l. 24 with the more passionate close of 'Tell me no more' should not escape notice.--I have not altered '_ere_ since' to '_e'er_ since' in text, because the emendation, though almost, is not quite certain.]

_To his unconstant Friend._

But say, thou very woman, why to me This fit of weakness and inconstancy? What forfeit have I made of word or vow, That I am rack'd on thy displeasure now? If I have done a fault, I do not shame To cite it from thy lips, give it a name: I ask the banes, stand forth, and tell me why We should not in our wonted loves comply? Did thy cloy'd appetite urge thee to try If any other man could love as I? 10 I see friends are like clothes, laid up whilst new, But after wearing cast, though ne'er so true. Or did thy fierce ambition long to make Some lover turn a martyr for thy sake? Thinking thy beauty had deserv'd no name Unless someone do perish in that flame: Upon whose loving dust this sentence lies, Here 's one was murther'd by his mistress' eyes.

Or was't because my love to thee was such, I could not choose but blab it? swear how much 20 I was thy slave, and doting let thee know, I better could myself than thee forgo.

Hearken! ye men that e'er shall love like me, I'll give you counsel gratis: if you be Possess'd of what you like, let your fair friend Lodge in your bosom, but no secrets send To seek their lodging in a female breast; For so much is abated of your rest. The steed that comes to understand his strength Grows wild, and casts his manager at length: 30 And that tame lover who unlocks his heart Unto his mistress, teaches her an art To plague himself; shows her the secret way How she may tyrannize another day.

And now, my fair Unkindness, thus to thee; Mark how wise Passion and I agree: Hear and be sorry for't. I will not die To expiate thy crime of levity: I walk (not cross-arm'd neither), eat, and live, Yea live to pity thy neglect, not grieve 40 That thou art from thy faith and promise gone, Nor envy him who by my loss hath won. Thou shalt perceive thy changing Moon-like fits Have not infected me, or turn'd my wits To lunacy. I do not mean to weep When I should eat, or sigh when I should sleep; I will not fall upon my pointed quill, Bleed ink and poems, or invention spill To contrive ballads, or weave elegies For nurses' wearing when the infant cries. 50 Nor like th' enamour'd Tristrams of the time, Despair in prose and hang myself in rhyme. Nor thither run upon my verses' feet, Where I shall none but fools or madmen meet, Who midst the silent shades, and myrtle walks, Pule and do penance for their mistress' faults. I'm none of those poetic malcontents Born to make paper dear with my laments: Or wild Orlando that will rail and vex, And for thy sake fall out with all the sex. 60 No, I will love again, and seek a prize That shall redeem me from thy poor despise. I'll court my fortune now in such a shape That will no faint dye, nor starv'd colour take.

Thus launch I off with triumph from thy shore, To which my last farewell; for never more Will I touch there. I put to sea again Blown with the churlish wind of thy disdain. Nor will I stop this course till I have found A coast that yields safe harbour, and firm ground. 70

Smile, ye Love-Stars; wing'd with desire I fly, To make my wishes' full discovery: Nor doubt I but for one that proves like you, I shall find ten as fair, and yet more true.

[_To his unconstant Friend._]

[Line: 7 I have thought it better to keep the form 'ban_e_', which was not uncommon (and, if I am not mistaken, was sometimes made to carry a pun with it), instead of the now usual, and even then authoritative, 'ban_n_'.]

[Line: 11 laid] Orig. 'lad'--an evident misprint.]

[Line: 16 had perisht _Malone MS. 22._]

[Line: 57 Orig., as often, 'mal_e_contents'.

This piece is one of King's few attempts to play the 'dog'. It is, as one would expect, not very happy, but it might be worse.]

_Madam Gabrina, Or the Ill-favour'd Choice._

_Con mala Muger el remedio_ _Mucha Tierra por el medio._

I have oft wond'red why thou didst elect Thy mistress of a stuff none could affect, That wore his eyes in the right place. A thing Made up, when Nature's powers lay slumbering. One, where all pregnant imperfections met To make her sex's scandal: Teeth of jet, Hair dy'd in orp'ment, from whose fretful hue Canidia her highest witchcrafts drew. A lip most thin and pale, but such a mouth Which like the poles is stretched North and South 10 A face so colour'd, and of such a form, As might defiance bid unto a storm: And the complexion of her sallow hide Like a wrack'd body wash'd up by the tide: Eyes small: a nose so to her vizard