But if the lover hopes to be in grace,
Wan be his looks, and meager be his face.
That colour from the fair compassion draws:
She thinks you sick, and thinks herself the cause.
Orion wander'd in the woods for love:
His paleness did the nymphs to pity move;
His ghastly visage argued hidden love.
Nor fail a nightcap, in full health, to wear;
Neglect thy dress, and discompose thy hair.
All things are decent, that in love avail:
Read long by night, and study to be pale:
Forsake
needful rest;
Be miserable, that you may be blest.
Shall I complain, or shall I warn you most?
Faith, truth, and friendship in the world are lost;
A little and an empty name they boast.
Trust not thy friend, much less thy mistress praise:
If he believe, thou mayst a rival raise.
'Tis true, Patroclus, by no lust misled,
Sought not to stain his dear companion's bed.
Nor Pylades Hermione embrac'd;
E'en Phædra to Pirithous still was chaste.
But hope not thou, in this vile age, to find
Those rare examples of a faithful mind.
The sea shall sooner with sweet honey flow;
Or from the furzes pears and apples grow.
We sin with gust, we love by fraud to gain;
And find a pleasure in our fellow's pain.
From rival foes you may the fair defend;
But, would you ward the blow, beware your friend:
Beware your brother, and your next of kin ; 860 But from your bosom-friend your care begin.
Here I had ended, but experience finds,
That sundry women are of sundry minds;
With various crotchets fill'd, and hard to please :
They therefore must be caught by various ways.
All things are not produc'd in any soil;
This ground for wine is proper, that for oil.
So 'tis in men, but more in womankind:
Different in face, in manners, and in mind:
But wise men shift their sails with every
As changeful Proteus varied oft his shape,
And did in sundry forms and figures 'scape;
A running stream, a standing tree became,
A roaring lion, or a bleating lamb.
Some fish with harpoons, some with darts are struck,
Some drawn with nets, some hang upon the hook
So turn thyself; and imitating them,
Try several tricks, and change thy stratagem.
One rule will not for different ages hold;
The jades grow cunning, as they grow more old.
Then talk not bawdy to the bashful maid:
Broad words will make her innocence afraid.
Nor to an ignorant girl of learning speak;
She thinks you conjure, when you talk in Greek.
And hence 'tis often seen, the simple shun
The learn'd, and into vile embraces run.
Part of my task is done, and part to do:
But here 'tis time to rest myself and you.
FOR mighty wars I thought to tune my lute,
And make my measures to my subject suit.
Six feet for ev'ry verse the Muse design'd:
But Cupid, laughing, when he saw my mind,
From ev'ry second verse a foot purloin'd.
Who gave thee, boy, this arbitrary sway,
On subjects, not thy own, commands to lay,
Who Phoebus only and his laws obey?
'Tis more absurd than if the Queen of Love
Should in Minerva's arms to battle move;
Or manly Pallas from that queen should take
Her torch, and o'er the dying lover shake.
In fields as well may Cynthia sow the corn,
Or Ceres wind in woods the bugle-horn.
As well may Phoebus quit the trembling string,
For sword and shield; and Mars may learn to sing. Already thy dominions are too large;
Be not ambitious of a foreign charge.
If thou wilt reign o'er all, and every where,
The god of Music for his harp may fear.
Thus when with soaring wings I seek renown,
Thou pluck'st my pinions, and I flutter down.
Could I on such mean thoughts my Muse employ,
I want a mistress or a blooming boy.
Thus I complain'd: his bow the stripling bent, 25
And chose an arrow fit for his intent.
The shaft his purpose fatally pursues ;
Now, poet, there's a subject for thy Muse.
He said too well, alas, he knows his trade;
For in my breast a mortal wound he made.
Far hence, ye proud hexameters, remove,
My verse is pac'd and trammel'd into love.
With myrtle wreaths my thoughtful brows inclose,
While in unequal verse I sing my woes.
To his mistress, whose husband is invited to a feast, with them. The poet instructs her how to behave herself in his company.
YOUR husband will be with us at the treat;
May that be the last supper he shall eat.
And am poor I a guest invited there,
Only to see, while he may touch the fair?
To see you kiss and hug your nauseous lord,
While his lewd hand descends below the board?
Now wonder not that Hippodamia's charms,
At such a sight, the Centaurs urg'd to arms;
That in a rage they threw their cups aside,
Assail'd the bridegroom, and would force the bride.
I am not half a horse, (I would I were)
Yet hardly can from you my hands forbear.
Take then my counsel; which observ'd, may be
Of some importance both to you and me.
Be sure to come before your man be there;
There's nothing can be done; but come howe'er.
Sit next him (that belongs to decency)
But tread upon my foot in passing by.
Read in my looks what silently they speak,
And slily, with your eyes, your answer make. 20
My lifted eyebrow shall declare my pain;
My right-hand to his fellow shall complain ;
And on the back a letter shall design;
Besides a note that shall be writ in wine.
Whene'er you think upon our last embrace,
With your fore-finger gently touch your face.
If any word of mine offend my dear,
Pull, with your hand, the velvet of your ear.
If you are pleas'd with what I do or say,
Handle your rings, or with your fingers play. 30
As suppliants use at altars, hold the board,
Whene'er you wish the devil may take your lord.
When he fills for you never touch the cup,
But bid th' officious cuckold drink it up.
The waiter on those services employ:
Drink you, and I will snatch it from the boy; Watching the part where your sweet mouth hath
And thence with eager lips will suck it in.
If he, with clownish manners, thinks it fit
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