The best of Scholars to disclose,
And books and Learning all confute;
Being clad in water-tissue suit.

These cool delights, helped with the air Fanned from the branches of the fair Old beech, or oak, enchantments tie To every sense's faculty;

And master all those powers should give
The will any prerogative!

Yet when the scorching noonday's heat,
Incommodates the lowing neat,

Or bleating flock; hither each one
Hastes to be my companion.

And when the western sky, with red Roses, bestrews the Day Star's bed; The wholesome Maid comes out to milk, In russet coat, but skin like silk;

Which, though the sun and air dye brown,
Will yield to none of all the Town

For softness! and her breath's sweet smell
Doth all the new-milked kie excel!
She knows no rotten teeth; nor hair
Bought, or complexion, t' make her fair:
But is her own fair wind and dress;
Not envying City's happiness.

Yet as she would extend some pity
To the drained neat, she frames a Ditty;
Which doth inchant the beast, until

It patiently lets her pail fill:
This, doth the babbling ECHO catch;
And so, at length, to me 't doth reach.
Straight, roused up, I verdict pass!
Concluding, from this bonny Lass

And the birds' strains, 'tis hard to say,
Which taught notes first? or she! or they!

Thus ravished, as the night draws on
Its sable curtain, in I'm gone

To my poor cell; which, 'cause 'tis mine,
I judge it doth all else outshine!
Hung with content, and weather proof;
Though neither pavement, nor roof,
Borrow from marble quarr below;
Or from those hills where cedars grow.
There, I embrace and kiss my spouse;
Who, like the VESTA to the house,
A syllabub prepares, to show,

By care and love, what I must owe.
Then, calling in the spawn and fry;
Who, whilst they live, ne'er let us die!
But every face is hers, or mine;
Though minted yet in lesser coin:
She takes an apple, I a plum,
Encouragements for all and some;
Till, in return, they crown the hearth
With innocent and harmless mirth!
Which sends us joyful to our rest;
More than a thousand others blest!

WISHES.

TO HIS (SUPPOSED) MISTRESS.

WHOE'ER She be!

That not impossible She

That shall command my heart and me;

Meet you her, my Wishes!

Bespeak her to my blisses!

And be ye called, My absent kisses!

I wish her Beauty,

That owes not all his duty

To gaudy 'tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie!

Something more than

Taffeta, or tissue, can;

Or rampant feather, or rich fan!

More than the spoil

Of shop, or silkworm's toil!

Or a bought blush! or a set smile!

A Face, that 's best

By its own beauty drest;

And can, alone, command the rest!

A Face, made up

Out of no other shop

Than what Nature's white hand sets ope!

A Cheek, where Youth

And Blood, with pen of Truth,

Write what the Reader sweetly ru'th!

A Cheek, where grows

More than a morning rose!

Which to no box, his being owes.

Lips, where all day

A Lover's kiss may play;

Yet carry nothing thence away!

Looks, that oppress

Their richest tires; but dress

And clothe their simplest nakedness!

Eyes, that displace

The neighbour diamond; and outface That sunshine, by their own sweet grace!

Tresses, that wear

Jewels but to declare

How much themselves more precious are;

Whose native ray

Can tame the wanton day

Of gems, that in their bright shades play!

Each ruby there,

Or pearl, that dare appear,

Be its own blush! be its own tear!

A well-tamed Heart,

For whose more noble smart,

LOVE may be long choosing a dart!

Eyes, that bestow

Full quivers on Love's bow;

Yet pay less arrows, than they owe [own]