NEWMAN

A pox upon her fir, and for her sake, On all good faces; must you sighs and whine, And make a face worse then a zealous drunkard Does over dead musty wine, because she is beauteous: We Soldiers do not use to engender with A phisnomy, nor as the learned term it, Cohabit with a handsome nose or lip, There are some parts beneath the waste I take it, More useful for a man of Arms. Should I ask you The reason why you love her, you must answer; It's for the sport (as for what other reason Women were made, unless to prick upon A clout, or starch, transcends my best Philosophy) And for that purpose, a short coat frister, That as she milks each morning, Bedews the cool grass with her Virgin moisture, As useful is and active (sounder far That's certain granted) pray, my Lord, remember She's but your mother's Gentlewoman, and whom perhaps The Butler has oftener folded up, then ere He did his table linne one. You'll anger me again then: we Imps of Mars, Should know no other Mistress's, then what the Camp contains, I never durst love ith' field (marry in the City. I've had copulation with all trades) but one poor sutlers wife, & She as fair too, as was the kettle which she boiled her beef in, Oh how the sweet smell of her amber greace And kitchen-stuff perfumed my greedy nostrils, Yet on this beauty doted I (inspired by insurrection of the flesh) And gave her to cuckold the good corporal her husband. Pish, perish still in ignorance, am I, Who am grand master in the art of Love, Not able to instruct a limber youth Of the first growth, your brother here makes love In all ill favoured tone, and skrewes his countenance, As he were singing of lamentable Ballads Of Tillies overthrow, but you for your partly, (I've known you of and urchin) are so fiery, You speak all squibs and crackers, carry a Canon In your mouth, you'll fright the Lady, she'l imagine You come to ravish her. Pray observe, You must not then accost her with a shrug, As you were lousy, with your Lady, sweet Lady, Or most superexcellent Lady, Nor in the Spanish garb, with a state face, As you had new been eating of a Raddish, And meant to swallow her for mutton to't: Nor let your words, as that I'm most afraid of, (Because it's your natural mood) come rumbling forth, Ushered with a good full-mouthed oath, I love you: But speak the language of and overcoming Lover; I do not mean that strange pedantic phrase, Used by some gallants, who do aim at wit, And make themselves stark asses by't, praise their Mistress's Byth' Sun and stars, while the poor girls imagine, They mean their signs, their Mercers or Perfumers Inhabit at (for sure beyond those Planets They've studied no Astrology) but you must In gentle, free, and genuine phrase deliver Your true affection, praise her eye, her lip, Her nose, her cheek, her chin, her neck, her breast, Her hand, her foot, her leg, her every thing, And leave your roses and your lilies for Your country froes, to make nosegays of: But stay, here comes your Mistress, her father too, In conference; fallen on my Mirmidon, While we retreat. Int. Waymar, Emilia. Faith my Lord, The Virgin Lady's something fearful, fears A man of war should board her, lest his charge Should make her keel split, my Lord Fredricke Is of that rough demeanour, spite of my Instructions, he will never learn to woe In the endue phrase and garb. Sure, My Lord intends to write some Proclamation, against wearing holland smocks, some furious Edict, against charitable leaguerers: I've known him, (And so have you my Lords) for all this heat against womanhood, pursue a sutlers usroe, (And she had but one eye neither) with as much zeal, As ever knight-errand did his fair Lindam brides, Or Claridiana. Ent. Fredrick, Emilia. The quarrel's reconciled, I'll lay my life on't. Your pleasure must be accomplished, But take heed we draw not the Virgins curses on us Both, take heed on't, it will fallen heavy. I shall be last, I see, But if the stoops hold out, it's ten to one I'll have my share. I smell him: He has a plot upon us, he'll steal hence, And shift a score or two of cups, and then Set fresh upon us, make us all as drunk, As rats in the Canaries. No faith, thank heaven, I feel no inclination that savours of mortality: gentlemen Shall's have a catch. I've told you yours too, or I'm much mistaken, You love, 'tshould seem, the fair Emilia, A pretty wench, they say, but that's no matter, Your father's are agreed on't, and you'd have me Show you the readiest way, how to accost her Negatively, I will demonstrate instantly. Why look you sir. yonder's the cock oth' game, About to tread you ginny hen, they're billing; Shall we retire, my Lord, perhaps they are going to't, And 'twould be a shame to spoil their sport. May he die for drought Like a Westphalia Big I'th' dog days, or be choked with eating toasted cheese. I'm Like to faint for thirst, Would 'twould arrive at me once, my mouth Even waters at it. And 'twere the Tun of Heidleberg, I'ld drink it Off with as much ease, as a leaguer can In a grim sutlers house of thatch: My Lord, Under your gracious pardon, take me off This lusty rouse to your own health, and after Begin as much to each of ours, and if It do not make you as merry as a Corporal Upon pay day, say I'm no Esculapius, But a mere Mountebanke in the effects Of sprightly Wine. A military Madrigal, I learned it Of a right Imp of Mars, a red-faced Sergeant, At Halberstat. To me be terrible, since it's main folly, To fear that which we no way can avoid: Nor is't much matter how we die, by force, Or naturally checkered with grisly wounds, Or in our beds, since all's but the same death still: O! but to die surcharged with mortal sins, Such as can kill our everlasting beings, Our souls, and send them hence to bath in floods Of living fire; there, that's the frightful mischief, The other's but a trifle; I, who never Could fear the other, at the thought of this, Am one with death already; my vast crimes, My horrid murders kill that conscience in me, Which makes me know my gilded, that conscience, Which as my shadow follows me.