The Harmony of the muses, or, The gentlemans and ladies choisest recreation full of various, pure and transcendent wit : containing severall excellent poems, some fancies of love, some of disdain, and all the subjects incident to the passionate affections either of men or women / heretofore written by those unimitable masters of learning and invention, Dr. Joh. Donn, Dr. Hen. King, Dr. W. Stroad [et al].

To his coy Mistris.

THink not, 'cause men flattering say, You••r fair as Hellen, fresh as May, Bright as is the morning Star, That you are so, though you are, Be not therefore proud, or deem All men unworthy your esteem, For being so you lose the pleasure Of being fair, for that rich treasure,

Of more beauty and sweet feature, Was bestow'd on you by Nature To be enjoy'd, and twere a sin, There to be scarce where she hath bin, So prodigal of her best graces; Thus common beauties and mean faces, Shall have more pastime and enjoy The sport you lose by being coy; Did the thing for which I sue, Only concern my self, not you? Were men so framed as they alone Reap'd all the pleasure, women none, Then had you reason to be scant, But 'twere a madness not to grant, That which affords, if you consent, To you the giver more content Then me the begger, O then be Kind to your self, if not to me; Starve not your self, because you may Thereby make me to pine away, Nor let fading beauty make, You your wiser thoughts forsake, For that lovely face will fail, Beauty's sweet, but beauty's frail, 'Tis sooner past, 'tis sooner done, Then Summers rain, or winters Sun, Mo•••• fleeting, when it is most dear, Tis gone while we say (but) 'tis here; Those curious locks so aptly twin'd, Whose every hair a soul doth bind,

Will change their Aburn hue, and grow, White and cold as Winters snow; That eye which now is Cupids nest, Will prove his grave, and all the rest Will follow, in the cheek, chin, nose, Nor Lilly shall be found, nor Rose, And what will then become of all, Those whom you now your servants call, Like Swallows when the Summer's done, They'l flye and seek some warmer Sun, Then wisely chuse one for your friend, Whose love may (when your beauties end) Remain still firm, be provident, And think before the Summer's spent, Of following Winter, like the Ant, In plenty horod for time of scant, Cull out amongst the multitude Of Lovers that seek to intrude Into your favour, one that may, Love for an age, not for a day, One that will quench your youthful fires, And feed in age your hot desires, For when the storms of time have moved Waves on that cheek which was beloved; When a fair Ladies face is pin'de, And yellow spread where red once shin'de When beauty, youth, and all sweets leave her, Love may return, but Lover never; And old folks say there is no paines, Like itch of Love in aged veins;

O love me then, and now begin it, Let's not lose this present minute, For time and age will work that wrack, Which time or age shall ne'r call back; The Snake each year fresh skin resumes, And Eagles change their aged plumes; The faded Rose each Spring receives, A fresh red tincture on her leaves; But if your beauty once decay, You'l never know a second May; O then be wise, and whilst your season, Affords you dayes for sport, do reason, Spend not in vain your lives short hour, But crop in time your Beauties flowre, Which will away, and doth together, Both bud, and fade, and blow, and wither.