The Unfortunate Traveller and Other Works (57 page)

for France, Saint James for Spain, Saint
Patrick for Ireland, Saint George for
England, and the red herring
for Yarmouth.

To the Right Honourable the Lord S.
¹

Pardon, sweet flower of matchless poetry,
And fairest bud the red rose ever bare,
Although my muse divorc'd from deeper care
Presents thee with a wanton elegy.
²

Ne blame my verse of loose unchastity
For painting forth the things that hidden are,
Since all men act what I in speech declare,
Only induced by variety.
³

Complaints and praises everyone can write,
And passion-out their pangs in stately rhymes,
But of love's pleasures none did ever write
That hath succeeded in these latter times.

Accept of it, dear Lord, in gentle gree,
⁴
And better lines ere long shall honour thee.

THE CHOOSING OF VALENTINES

It was the merry month of February,
When young men in their jolly roguery

Rose early in the morn ‘fore break of day
To seek them valentines so trim and gay,

With whom they may consort in summer-sheen
And dance the heidegeies
⁵
on our town-green,

As Ale‘s
⁶
at Easter or at Pentecost
Perambulate the fields that flourish most,

And go to some village abordering near
To taste the cream and cakes and such good cheer,

Or see a play of strange morality
Showen by bachelry of Manningtree;
⁷

Whereto the country franklins
⁸
flock-meal
⁹
swarm,
And John and Joan come marching arm in arm

Even on the hallows
¹⁰
of that blessed saint
That doth true lovers with those joys acquaint,

I went, poor pilgrim, to my lady's shrine
To see if she would be my valentine.

But woe, alas, she was not be found,
For she was shifted to an Upper Ground.
¹¹

Good Justice Dudgeon-haft and Crabtree-Face
¹²
With bills and staves had scar'd her from the place;

And now she was compell'd for sanctuary
To fly unto an house of venery.

Thither went I, and boldly made enquire
If they had hackneys
¹³
to let out to hire,

And what they crav'd by order of their trade
To let one ride a journey on a jade.

Therewith out stepped a foggy
¹⁴
three-chin'd dame,
That us'd to take young wenches for to tame,

And ask'd me if I meant as I profess'd,
Or only ask'd a question but in jest,

‘In jest?' quoth I. ‘That term it as you will:
I come for game, therefore give me my Jill.'

‘Why, sir,' quoth she, ‘if that be your demand,
Come, lay me a God's-penny
¹⁵
in my hand;

For in our oratory sikerly
¹⁶
None enters here to do his nicery

But he must pay his offertory first,
And then perhaps we'll ease him of his thirst.'

I, hearing her so earnest for the box,
Gave her her due, and she the door unlocks.

In am I enter'd: Venus be my speed.
But where's this female that must do this deed?

By blind meanders, and by crankled
¹⁷
ways
She leads me onward (as my author says),

Until we came within a shady loft
Where Venus' bouncing vestals skirmish oft.

And there she set me in a leather chair,
And brought me forth of pretty trulls a pair,

To choose of them which might content mine eye;
But her I sought I could nowhere espy.

I spake them fair, and wish'd them well to fare,
Yet so it is, I must have fresher ware.

Wherefore, dame bawd, as dainty as you be,
Fetch gentle Mistress Francis forth to me.

‘By Halydame,' quoth she, ‘and God's own mother,
I well perceive you are a wily brother.

For if there be a morsel of more price,
You'll smell it out though I be ne'er so nice.

As you desire, so shall you swive
¹⁸
with her,
But think your purse-strings shall abuy it dear;

For he that will eat quails must lavish crowns,
And Mistress Francis in her velvet gowns,

And ruffs and periwigs as fresh as May
Cannot be kept with half-a-crown a day.'

‘Of price, good hostess, we will not debate,
Though you assize
¹⁹
me at the highest rate.

Only conduct me to this bonny belle,
And ten good gobs
²⁰
I will unto thee tell
²¹

Of gold or silver, which shall like thee best,
So much do I her company request.'

Away she went: so sweet a thing is gold
That (mauger)
²²
will invade the strongest hold.

Hey-ho, she comes, that hath my heart in keep:
Sing lullaby, my cares, and fall asleep.

Sweeping she comes, as she would brush the ground:
Her rattling silks my senses do confound.

Oh, I am ravish'd! Void the chamber straight,
For I must needs upon her with my weight.

‘My Tomalin', quoth she, and then she smil'd.
‘Ay, ay', quoth I. So more men are beguil'd

With smiles, with flattering words and feined cheer,
When in their deeds their falsehood doth appear.

‘As how, my lambkin?' blushing she replied.
‘Because I in this dancing school abide?

If that be it that breeds this discontent,
We will remove the camp incontinent.
²³

For shelter only, sweetheart, came I hither,
And to avoid the troublous stormy weather.

But now the coast is clear we will be gone,
Since but thy self true lover have I none.'

With that, she sprung full lightly to my lips,
And fast about the neck me colls and clips.
²⁴

She wanton faints and falls upon her bed,
And often tosseth to and fro her head.

She shuts her eyes and waggles with her tongue:
Oh, who is able to abstain so long?

I come, I come; sweet lining
²⁵
be thy leave.
Softly my fingers up these curtains heave

And make me happy stealing by degrees.
First bare her legs, then creep up to her knees.

From thence ascend unto her manly thigh
(A pox on lingering when I am so nigh).

Smock, climb a-pace, that I may see my joys.
Oh, heaven and paradise are all but toys

Compared with this sight I now behold,
Which well might keep a man from being old.

A pretty rising womb without a weam,
²⁶
That shone as bright as any silver stream,

And bare out like the bending of an hill,
At whose decline a fountain dwelleth still,

That hath his mouth beset with ugly briars
Resembling much a dusky net of wires.

A lofty buttock barr'd with azure veins,
Whose comely swelling, when my hand distrains,

Or wanton checketh with a harmess stype,
²⁷
It makes the fruits of love eftsoon be ripe,

And pleasure pluck'd too timely from the stem,
To die ere it hath seen Jerusalem.

Oh gods, that ever any thing so sweet
So suddenly should fade away and fleet.

Her arms are spread, and I am all unarm'd.
Like one with Ovid's cursed hemlock
²⁸
charm'd,

So are my limbs unwieldy for the fight,
That spend their strength in thought of their delight.

What shall I do to show myself a man?
It will not be for aught that beauty can.

I kiss, I clap,
²⁹
I feel, I view at will,
Yet dead he lies not thinking good or ill.

‘Unhappy me,' quoth she, ‘and will't not stand?
Come, let me rub and chafe it with my hand.

Perhaps the silly worm is laboured sore,
And wearied that it can do no more.

If it be so (as I am great a-dread)
I wish ten thousand times that I were dead.

How ere it is, no means shall want in me,
That may avail to his recovery.'

Which said, she took and rolled it on her thigh,
And when she looked on't, she would weep and sigh,

And dandled it and danc'd it up and down,
Not ceasing, till she raise it from his swoon.

And then he flew on her as he were wood,
³⁰
And on her breach did thack
³¹
and foin
³²
a-good.

He rubb'd and prick'd and pierc'd her to the bones,
Digging as far as eath
³³
he might for stones.

Now high, now low, now striking short and thick,
Now diving deep he touch'd her to the quick.

Now with a gird
³⁴
he would his course rebate.
Straight would he take him to a stately gait.

Play while him list, and thrust he ne'er so hard,
Poor patient Grisel
³⁵
lieth at his ward,

And gives and takes as blithe and free as May,
And e'er more meets him in the middle way.

On him her eyes continually were fix'd,
With her eye-beams his melting looks were mix'd,

Which like the sun, that twixt two glasses plays
From one to th'other casts rebounding rays.

He like a star, that to reguild his beams
Sucks in the influence of Phoebus' streams,

Imbathes the lines of his descending light
In the bright fountains of her clearest sight.

She fair as fairest planet in the sky
Her purity to no man doth deny.

The very chamber, that enclouds her shine,
Looks like the palace of that God divine,

Who leads the day about the zodiak,
And every even descends to th'ocean lake.

So fierce and fervent is her radiance,
Such fiery stakes she darts at every glance,

She might enflame the icy limbs of age,
And make pale death his surquedry
³⁶
assuage

To stand and gaze upon her orient lamps
Where Cupid all his chiefest joys encamps,

And sits and plays with every atomy
That in her sunbeams swarm abundantly.

Thus gazing, and thus striving we persever,
But what so firm that may continue ever?

‘Oh, not so fast!' my ravish'd mistress cries,
‘Lest my content, that on thy life relies,

Be brought too soon from his delightful seat,
And me unwares of hoped bliss defeat.

Together let our equal motions stir;
Together let us live and die, my dear.

Together let us march unto content,
And be consumed with one blandishment.'

As she prescrib'd, so kept we crotchet-time,
And every stroke in order like a chime.

Whilst she, that had preserv'd me by her pity,
Unto our music fram'd a groaning ditty.

Alas, alas, that love should be a sin,
Even now my bliss and sorrow doth begin.

Hold wide thy lap, my love Danaë,
³⁷
And entertain the golden shower so free,

That trilling falls into thy treasury,
As April-drops not half so pleasant be,

Nor Nilus' overflow to Egypt plains,
As this sweet-stream, that all her joints imbanes.
³⁸

With ‘Oh' and ‘Oh', she itching moves her hips,
And to and fro full lightly starts and skips.

She jerks her legs, and sprawleth with her heels,
No tongue may tell the solace that she feels.

‘I faint, I yield: Oh, death rock me asleep.'
³⁹
‘Sleep, sleep, desire, entombed in the deep.'

‘Not so, my dear', my dearest saint replied,
‘For from us yet thy spirit may not glide

Until the sinowy channels of our blood
Withold their source from this imprison'd flood;

And then will we (that “then” will come too soon)
Dissolved lie as though our days were done.

The whilst I speak, my soul is fleeting hence,
And life forsakes his fleshly residence.

Stay, stay, sweet joy, and leave me not forlorn.
Why shouldst thou fade that art but newly born?

Stay but an hour; an hour is not so much.
But half an hour, if that thy haste be such.

Nay, but a quarter: I will ask no more,
That thy departure (which torments me sore)

May be alightened with a little pause,
And take away this passion's sudden cause.

He hears me not, hard-hearted as he is:
He is the son of Time and hates my bliss.

Time ne'er looks back, the river ne'er return;
A second spring must help me or I burn.

No, no, the well is dry that should refresh me.
The glass is run of all my destiny.

Nature of winter learneth niggardize,
Who, as he overbears
⁴⁰
the stream with ice,

That man nor beast may of their pleasance taste,
So shuts she up her conduit all in haste,

And will not let her nectar overflow,
Lest mortal men immortal joys should know.

Adieu, unconstant love, to thy disport.
Adieu, false mirth, and melody too short.

Adieu, faint-hearted instrument of lust,
That falsely hast betray'd our equal trust.

Henceforth no more will I implore thine aid,
Or thee, or men, of cowardize upbraid.

My little dildo shall supply their kind,
A knave that moves as light as leaves by wind,

That bendeth not, nor foldest any deal,
But stands as stiff as he were made of steel,

And plays at peacock twixt my legs right blithe,
And doth my tickling swage with many a sigh.

For, by Saint Runyon, he'll refresh me well,
And never make my tender belly swell.'

Poor Priapus, whose triumph now must fall,
Except thou thrust this weakling to the wall,

Behold how he usurps in bed and bower,
And undermines thy kingdom every hour.

How sly he creeps betwixt the bark and tree,
And sucks the sap, whilst sleep detaineth thee.

He is my mistress' page at every stound,
⁴¹
And soon will tent a deep intrenched wound.

He waits on courtly nymphs that be so coy,
And bids them scorn the blind-alluring boy.