Q. Horatius Flaccus: his Art of poetry. Englished by Ben: Jonson. With other workes of the author, never printed before

His Mistresse Drawne.

SItting, and ready to be drawne, What make these Velvets, Silks, & Lawn? Imbroyderies, Feathers, Fringe and Lace, When every limbe takes like a face?

Send these suspected helpes to aid Some forme defective, and decay'd: This beauty without falsehood faire, Needs nought to cloath it but the aire.

Yet something to the Painters view, Were fitly interpos'd, so new He shall (if he can understand) Worke by my fancy with his hand.

Draw first a Cloud, all save her necke, And out of that make day to break: Till like her face it doe appeare, And men may think all light rose there.

Then let the beames of that disperse The Cloud, and shew the Universe: But at such distance, as the eye May rather it adore than spye.

The heavens design'd, draw next a spring, With all that youth, or it may bring: Foure Rivers branching forth like seas, And Paradise confin'd in these.

Last draw the circle of this Globe, And let there be a starry Robe Of Constellations 'bout her hurl'd, And thou hast painted beauties world.

But Painter, see you doe not sell A Coppy of this Piece nor tell Whose 'tis: but if it favour find, Next sitting we will draw her mind.