Wit restor'd in several select poems not formerly publish't.

A discourse between a Poet and a Painter.

Poet.

PAinter, I p•…•…ithee pencill to the life The woman thou wouldst willingly call wife, Fashion her from the head unto the heel, So perfect that but gazing thou mayst feel Pigmaleons passion: colour her faire haire, Like amber, or to something else more rare, Temper a white shall passe Pyrenean snow, To raise her temples, and on it bestow Such artificiall azure, that the Eye, May make the heart beleeve the ma•…•…ble skye, To perfect her had melted in soft raines, Lending a blew to brauuch her swelling veines, Then Painter, to come lower, her sweet chin, I would have small and white, not much trench'd in; Nor alltogether plain, but such an one The nicest thought may judge equall to none. Her nose I would have comely, not too high, Though men call it, in Physiognomy,

A type of honour; nor too low▪ f•…•…r then They I say, sh•…•…'s known (God knowes) how many men; Nor broad, nor flat, that's the hard favour'd mould: Nor thin, nor sharp, for then they'le call her scold. Apparrell it in such a speaking grace, That men may read Majesty in her face. Her lipps a paire of blushing twinnes so red, Nice fancy may depart away full fed. But, Painter, when thou com•…•…st unto her eye, There let thy Pencill play; there cunningly Expresse thy selfe, for as at feasts▪ so here The dainties I keep last to crown the cheer. Make her eye Love•…•… •…•…veet argument, a look That may discourse▪ make it a well w•…•…it book, Whereas in faire set 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of art, Men there may read the story of her heart. Whiter than white, if you would po•…•…rtray ought, Display her neck cure as the purest thought. To make her gratious give her a broad brest Topt with two milkie mountains; down her chest. Between those hills let Loves sweet vally lye, The pleasing thraldome of a Love-sick eye. Still, Painter, to fall lower paint her waste Straight as the Cedar, or the Norway Mast, To take a modest step, let men but guesse By her neat foot a hidden handsomnesse.

Thus, Paint•…•…r, I would have her in each part, Remaine unmatcht by nature or by art. Canst thou doe this?

Pa•…•…nter.

—Yes Sir, Ile draw a feature, You shall conclude that art hath out-done nature, The Pencill Sir, shall force you to confesse, It can more lively than your pen expresse.

Poet.

That by this then let me find, To this body draw a mind; O Painter, to your pencill fall, And draw me something rationall: Give her thoughts, serious, secure, Holy, chaste, religious, pure. From vertue never known to start, Make her an understanding heart. Seat the Graces in her mind, A well taught truth, a faith refin'd From doubts and jelousies; and give Unto her heart a hope may live Longer then time, untill it be Perfected by Eternity. Give her an honest loving mind, Neither too coy, nor yet too kind: But let her equall thoughts so raise her, Loose thoughts may f•…•…are, and the chast praise her. Then, Painter, next observe this rule, A principle in Apelles Schoole;

Leave not too much space between Her tongue and heart, 'tis seldome seen That such tell truth; but let there be, Between them both a sympathy: For she whose tongue and heart keep even In every syllable, courts heaven: If otherwise, this maxim know, False above's not true below. Thus mind and body let her be all over, A golden text bound in a golden cover. Canst thou doe this?

Painter.

—But Sir, 'Is't your intent I should draw her in both parts excellent?

Poet.

It is.

Paint.

Then in plain words, not in dark sense to lurk, Find you the woman; and 'Ile fall to work.