Clievelandi Vindiciæ, or, Clieveland's genuine poems, orations, epistles, &c. purged from the many false and spurious ones which had usurped his name, and from innumerable errours and corruptions in the true copies : to which are added many never printed before, with an account of the author's life.

The Antiplatonick.

FOr shame thou everlasting Wooer, Still saying Grace, and ne'r ••••all to her! Love that's in Contemplation plac'd Is Venus drawn but to the waste. Unless your Flame confess its Gender, And your Parley cause Surrender,

Y'are Salamanders of a cold desire, That live untouch'd amidst the hottest fire:

What though she be a Dame of stone, The Widow of Pigmalion: An hard and un••elenting she, As the new-crusted Niobe; Or (what doth more of statue carry) A Nun of the Platonick Quarry? Love melts the rigor which the Rocks have bred, A Flint will break upon a Feather-b••d.

For shame you pretty Female Elves, Cease thus to candy up your selves; No more you Sectaries of the Game, No more of your calcining Flame. Women commence by Cupid's Dart, As a King hunting Dubs a Hart. Love's Votaries enthral each other's Soul, Till both of them live but upon Parol▪

Virtue's no more in Womankind But the Green sickness of the Mind. Philosophy (their new Delight) A kind of Charcoal Appeti••e. There is no Sophistry prevails, Where all-convincing Love assails;

But the disputing Petticoat will warp, As Skilful Gamesters are to seek at sharp.

The Souldier, that Man of Iron, Whom Ribs of Horror all environ; That's strung with Wire instead of Veins, In whose Embraces you're in Chains; Let a Magnetick Girl appear, Straight he turns Cupid's Cuiraseer. Love storms his Lips, and takes the Fortress in, For all the bristled Turnpike of his Chin.

Since Love's Artillery then checks The Breast-works of the firmest Sex: Come let us in affections riot; Th' are sickly pleasures keep a diet: Give me a Lover bold and free, Not Eunuch'd with Formality; Like an Embassador that beds a Queen With the nice caution of a Sword between.