Pareo praeceptis: tunc bibo cum vigilo.
OF A DRUNKARD.
Phoebus asleep forbad me wine to take:
I yield; and now am only drunk awake.
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DE SCAEVOLA.
Sacrifico propriam concremat igne manum:Miratur Porsenna virum, paenamque relaxansMaxima cum obscessis faedera a victor init,Plus flammis patriae confert quam fortibus armis,Una domans bellum funere dextra sua.ENGLISHED.The hand, by which no king but serjeant dies,Mutius in fire doth freely sacrifice;The prince admires the Hero, quits his pains,And Victor from the seige peace entertains;Rome’s more oblig’d to…
I.
Pity that you faine would have,Then I turne begger unto thee,And aske the thing that thou dost crave.I will suffice thy hungry need,So thou wilt but my fancy feed.II.In all ill yeares, was ever knowneOn so much beauty such a dearth?Which, in that thrice-bequeathed gowne,Lookes like the Sun eclipst with Earth,Like gold in canvas, or…
I.
Spread with early streaked light!If still vailed from our sight,What is’t but eternall night?II.Ah LUCASTA, why so chaste?With that vigour, ripenes grac’t,Not to be by Man imbrac’tMakes that Royall coyne imbace’t,And this golden Orchard waste!III.Ah LUCASTA, why so great,That thy crammed coffers sweat?Yet not owner of a seatMay shelter you from Natures heat,And your earthly…
THEOPHILE BEING DENY’D HIS ADDRESSES TO KING JAMES,
Si Jaques, le Roy du scavior,Ne trouue bon de me voir,Voila la cause infallible!Car, ravy de mon escrit,Il creut, que j’estois tout espritEt par consequent invisible.LINEALLY TRANSLATED OUT OF THE FRENCH.If James, the king of wit,To see me thought not fit,Sure this the cause hath been,That, ravish’d with my merit,He thought I was all spirit,And…
Love drunk, the other day, knockt at my brest,
My man, my ear, told me he came t’ attest,That without cause h’d boxed him,And battered the windows of mine eyes,And took my heart for one of’s nunneries.II.I wondred at the outrage safe return’d,And stormed at the base affront;And by a friend of mine, bold faith, that burn’d,I called him to a strict accompt.He said…
A gentleman, to give us somewhat new,
Pray be not frighted–Tho the scaene and gown’sThe Universities, the wit’s the town’s;The lines each honest Englishman may speake:Yet not mistake his mother-tongue for Greeke,For stil ’twas part of his vow’d liturgie:–From learned comedies deliver me!Wishing all those that lov’d ’em here asleepe,Promising SCHOLARS, but no SCHOLARSHIP.You’d smile to see, how he do’s vex and…