A strappado for the Diuell Epigrams and satyres alluding to the time, with diuers measures of no lesse delight. By Misosukos, to his friend Philokrates.

An Epigramme called the WOOER.

COme yee braue wooers of Penelope, Doe not repine that you should crossed be: For pregnant wits, and ripest braines can show, As much or more then euer you did know. And that my storie better may appeare, Attend to my discourse, and you shall heare. It chanc't vpon a time (and then was'th time) When the thigh-fraughted Bee gathered her thyme, Stored her platted Cell, her fragrant bower, Crop't from each branch, each blossom & each flow∣er When'th pretty Lam-kin scarce a fortnight old, Skipped and froliked 'fore the neighbouring fold, When'the cheerfull Robin, Larke and Lenaret, Tun'de vp their voices, and together met, When'th fe••refull Hare to cheere her quaint delight, Did make her selfe her owne Hermaphrodite, When'th louely Turtle did her eies awake, And with swift flight follow'd her faithfull make, When euery Beast prepar'd her wonted den, For her owne young, and shade to couer them, When Flora with her mantle tucked vp, Gathred the dewie flow'rs, and them did put In her embrodred skirts which were rancke set, With Prime-rose, Cow-slip, and the violet, The dill, the dasie, sweet breath'd Eglantine, The Crowfoote, pausie, and the Columbine,

The pinke, the plantaine, milfoile, euery one▪ With Mari••gold that opens with the Sunne; Euen then it was, (ill may I say it was) VVhen young Admetus woed a countrey lasse. A countrie lasse whom he did woe indeede, To be his Bride, but yet he could not speede. VVhich forc't him grieue: heare but his cause of woe, And you'le not wonder why he should doe so? Vertuous the maide was, and so grac't by fate, As she was wise, and did degenerate From her weake witted father: modesty Lodg'd on her cheeke, and showd virginity In a faire Rosie colour, which was spread By equall mixture both of white and red. So as no white it seem'd, but Idas snow, No red, but such where Roses vse to grow. And though of Hero many one doe write, Styling her soueraigne Goddesse of delight, So faire as she was taken for no other, Of all that saw her, then Adonis mother. So pure her skin, so motiue to the eie▪ As it did seeme compos'd of Iuorie. So high and broad her front, so smoth, so eue••, As it did seeme the Frontispice of Heanen. So purely mixt her cheekes, as it might seeme, She was by nature made for natures Queene. So pretty dinted was her dimpled chin, As't seem'd a gate to let affection in. So sweete her breath, (as I haue hard them tell) That like to Cassia she did euer smell.

So louely were those mounts of pure delight, That Gods themselues wer cheered with their sight▪ So as great Ioue (for so our Poets say) Fain'd himselfe sicke for her vpon a day. Wise Aesculapius he was sent forthwith, VVho fel•• Ioues pulse, yet found no signe of death, Or any great distemper: (yet to please Ioue For he perceiu'd his malady was loue) Said; Sir, I'aue found your grief: what i'st (quoth he?) A meere consumption, yet be rul'd by me, And follow my directions (though with paine) And then no doubt you shall be well againe. Fiue mornes must you to'Abidoes towne repaire, And suck pure milke from th' fair'st virgin there. Ioue hearing what he wisht, obey'd bis hest; And war soone well by sucking Heroes brest. Yet what was Hero, though the fair'st that was In all her time vnto Admetus lasse? Though Heroes beuty did allure all men, The time is chang'd, now's now, and then was then. Each milk-maide in fore time was thought a Queen. So rare was perfect bewty to be seene. But now, where is no Venus to be had? Such store I wot there be, thet euery lad Can haue his tricksie lasse, which wantonlie, Scarce crept from shell, he dandles on his knee. But to my storie of such royall parts VVas she composed, that the very hearts Of her attendants, as it did apeare, VVere spous'd to this pure virgin euery vvhere▪

V••ith what resolued silence would her wit, Op••ose ••er tongue, and seeme to bridle it? VVith what discretion would she speak•• her minde, And nere transgesse those limits she assign'd. But with that decencie of grace and speech, As She might seeme the elder sort to teach. "VVhat a blest sexe were woman if this song VVere onely lea••nt them, for to hold their tongue, And speake no more (O t'were a lesson good) Then that were fit, and what they vnderstood? But when will that be taught them! O (I feare) Neuer; for womens tongues be euery where. So as at first if they had no tongue, I•• may be thought they would not haue been dumb. Such is th'ternall motion that its sayd, When women speechlesse lie they're neerly dead. T••is virgin which Admetus sought to haue, Beside her vertues, then which who could craue, A better portion had an ample dowre, VVhich did enrich those gifts that were before Expressed and dilated, and to tell The very trueth, she lou'd Admetus well. And could haue brook't all others t'haue denide, So that she might haue been Admetus bride. But he a shamefast lad, though oft he sought Her loue, yet durst not vtter what he thought. Nor to her parents could impart his minde, How he affected was, and how inc••inde. Yet still was he respected, and in grace, Nor any sought to put him out of place.

Nor to withdraw th'affection of the maid, From that foundation where it once was laid For three months space, hung it in this suspence, Neither conceald nor sh••wne: till's Excellence, For so was th'Title of a noble Squire, Whose liuing bordered in th'adioyning shire, By an intendment (as he thought vpon 't) Pu•• poore Admetus nose quite out of ioynt, And thus it was: for I meane to repeat By what deceit, what cunning slight and cheat, He bobd this simple Swaineling; on a day, When young Admetus had addrest his way To Tr••inouant, where be occasion had, "His Excellence in th'absence of the ladde, Acquaints another with Bellinaes loue, (For so her name was:) he more prompt to moue Affection, then Admetus ere could be, VVins me Bellina's fort couragiously, By new assaults, incursions, and displaid His youngling Colours: when the breach was made. O how methinks I see th'young Souldier sweat, Till he hath done, and perfected his fear. How he assailes, assaults, ascends, inclines, Inuades, inuirons, ruines, vndermines, VVhil'st she like to a Fort opprest doth lye, Depriu'd all meanes of helpe, yet will not crye. He like a stout victorious Hanniball, Bidding her yeeld, or he will raze the wall. She though made subiect to his conquering hand, Like Carthage Queene still at defiance stands.

He (with the Spirit of a Mirmido••,) Makes her the Carpet which he lies vpon. She (Deianira-like) will chuse death first, Ere she craue mercy, bids him doe his worst▪ He enters th'breach, and doth his fignall rere, And leaues some token that he has beene there: She glories in her conquest, and throwne downe, Saies, I am low, yet am not ouercome. He doth renew his battery, and stands too't, And she Vyrago-like, yeelds not a foote. He takes more firmer grounding, yet is she Still as she was, lower she cannot be. He plants his Engines deeper, labours more, Yet she protests, its worse then twas before. He enters parlye, and speakes ore the wall, But she (as sencelesse) answers not at all. He sounds retreat, and to his campe doth creepe, Which makes her wake out of her pleasant sleepe▪ Then in a sweete entwining doe they clippe, And cull and kisse, and from the rosie lippe Of Hymens chast embraces doe they tast, The sweets aboue, when lower ioyes be past▪ Heere is the spell of sweet-charmd Morphus Dissolu'd to nothing, by charmes amorous. For though men (after Labour) rest doe seeke, Loues eyes be open still, and cannot sleepe. Iudge what Admetus thought when he did heare▪ Of this report, soone whispered in his eare, How he did looke? how strange perplext he was, Thus to bee cheated of his louely la••se?

Pipe could he not, his cheeks were growne so thinne, His pipe-bagge torne, no wind it could keepe in, His cloue-ear'd curre lay hanging downe his head, And for foure dayes, would tast no kind of bread. His Flockes did pine (all went contrary way) Heere lay Admetus, there his Sheep-crooke lay, All wea-begane, thus liu'd the Shepheard long, Till on a day inspired with a song, (For so it seem'd) to others more then me, Which thus he sung to maide inconstancy.

Foolish I, why should I grieue, To sustaine what others feele? VVhat suppose, f••aile women leaue, Those they lou'd, should I conceale Comforts rest, From my brest. For a fickle, brittle woman, Noe, Noe, Noe, Let her goe, Such as these be true to no man.

Long retired hast thou beene, Sighing on these barren rocks, Nor by sheepe nor shepheard seeene, Now returne vnto thy flockes▪ Shame away, Doe not stay,

With these mouing-louing woman, They remoue From their loue: Such as these doe oft vndoe men.

Tender-tinder of Affection, If I harbour thee againe, I will doe it by direction, Of some graue experienc't swaine. Nere will I, Loue by th'eye, But where iudgement first hath tride, If I liue, Ere to loue, It is she, shall be my bride.

When this retired Swaine had end'd his song, He seem'd as one that had forgot his wrong, His Teres were dried vp, his willow wreath, Throwne quite away, and he began to breath, More cheerefull and more blith then ere he was, Forgetting th'Name and Nature of his lasse, So as no Swaine on all the plaine could be, For any May-game readier then he: Now would he tune his pipe vnto his Eare, And play so sweet, as ioved the flocks to heare, Yea I haue heard, (Nor thinke I Fame did lye) So skilfull was this lad in M••nstrelsie, That when he plaid (one st••oke) which oft he would, No Lasse that heard him could her water hold.

And now because I doe remember't well, Ile tell a tale which I haue heard him tell, On winter-nights full oft vnto my Sire, While I sat rosting of a Crab by th'fire.

A Man there was wh'had liu'd a merry life, Till in the end he tooke him to a wife, One ••hat no image was (for she could speake) And now and then her husbands costrell break. So fierce she was and furious▪ as in some She was an arra••t Deuill of her tongue. This droue the poore man to a discontent, And oft and many times did he repent That ere he chang'd his former quiet state, But las repentance, then did come too late. No cure he finds to heale this maladie, But makes a vertue of necessity. The common cure for care to euery man, A potte of nappy Ale: where he began To fortifie his braine 'gainst all should come, 'Mongst which the clamor of his wiues loud tongue. This habit graffed in him grew so strong, "That when hee was from ••le, an houre seem'd long, So well he lik'd th'profession: on a Time, Hauing staid long at pot, (for rule nor line Limits no drunkard) euen from Morne to Night, He hasted home apace, by the moone-light: Where as he went, what phantasies were bred, I doe not know, in his distempered head.

But a strange Ghost appear'd (and forc'd him stay) With which perplext, he thus began to say. Good Spirit, if thou be, I need no charme, For well I know, thou wilt not doe me harme, And if the Deuill; sure, me thou shouldst not hurt. I wed'd thy sister, and am plagued for't. The spirit well-approuing what he said, Dissolu'd to ayre, and quickly vanished. For Guido saith, some spirits walke on earth, That cheered are, and much delight with mirth, Such doe admire conceits and pregnant bray••es; Others there are, which Melancholy chaines, And keepes in low Subiection, these are they Affect the balefull night, frequent that way That is obscure, silent and intricate, Darke charnell-houses, where they keep their chat▪ Of Tortures, Tragicke ends and Funeralls, Which they solemnize for their Festiualls. Thus would Admetus passe the winter-night, Wherein he gaue such neighbours great delight, As came to heare him: and such store he had, Of quaint conceits, as there was not a ladde, That of discourse had more variety, Or could expresse his mind more gracefully. But lacke for sorrow, how hee's fallen away, That was so trim a youth but tother day, A meere Anatomy, but skin and bone, One that it pitties me to looke vpon. What should the cause be, sure I cannot say, But his pale face, some sicknesse doth bewray?

" For as our thoughts are legible in our eye, " So doth our face our bodies griefe descry. Yet I perchance, by th' Sonnet which hee made, May find the cause for which he is dismaide How ere it fall, it shall be sung by me, Now when I want Admetus company.

Admetus Sonnet.

NEighbour Swaines and Swainelius heare me, "Its Admetus bids you heare, Leaue your Pastures, and come neere mee, "Come away you need not feare, By my soule, as I affect you, I haue nought that can infect you. O then come, Heare a tongue, That in discord keepes a part, With a Woe-surcharged heart.

Nere was Swaine on plaine more loued, Or could doe more feats then I, Yet one griefe hath now remoued, All my whilome iollity. All my Laies be quite forgotten, Sheepe-hooke broken, pipe-bagge rotten, O then come, Heare a tongue. That with flattering speech doth call, To take long farewell of all.

I am not as once I was, When Eliza first did suite me, Nor when that same red-hair'd lasse, Faire Bellina did inuite me, To a Garden there to play, Cull, kisse, clip, and toy all day, O then come, Heare a tongue, That in wooing termes was flowing, But through Wo has spoil'd his woing.

All I can or will desire ye When my breath of life is spent, That in loue you would interre me, (For it will my soule content,) Neare vnto my Fathers hearse, And bestow some comely verse On my Tombe, Then my tongue Shall throb out this last adeu, Nere were truer swaines then you.

A verse Admetus? I will be the swaine, Though most vnfit, to vndertake that paine, Which in faire letters shall engrauen be, Ouer thy hearse t'expresse thy memory, And thus it is: Heere is a Shepheard layd, Who lou'd, was lou'd, yet liu'd and died a Maid. Yet gainst his will: pray then good spirits tell, Whether he must or no lead Apes in Hell.