John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  If you complain you have no ready Coin;

  No matter, ’tis but Writing of a Line,

  A little Bill, not to be paid at Sight;

  (Now curse the Time when thou wert taught to Write)

  She keeps her Birth-day; you must send the Chear; 490

  And she’ll be Born a hundred times a year.

  With daily Lies she dribs thee into Cost;

  That Ear-ring dropt a Stone, that Ring is lost.

  They often borrow what they never pay;

  What e’er you lend her, think it thrown away. 495

  Had I ten Mouths and Tongues to tell each Art,

  All wou’d be weary’d e’er I told a Part.

  By Letters, not by Words, thy Love begin;

  And Foord the dangerous Passage with thy Pen.

  If to her Heart thou aim’st to find the way, 500

  Extreamly Flatter, and extreamly Pray.

  Priam by Pray’rs did Hector’s Body gain;

  Nor is an Angry God invok’d in vain.

  With promis’d Gifts her easy Mind bewitch;

  For ev’n the Poor in promise may be Rich. 505

  Vain Hopes a while her Appetite will stay;

  ’Tis a deceitful, but commodious way.

  Who gives is Mad, but make her still believe

  ‘Twill come, and that’s the cheapest way to give.

  Ev’n barren Lands fair promises afford; 510

  But the lean Harvest cheats the starving Lord.

  Buy not thy first Enjoyment; lest it prove

  Of bad example to thy future Love:

  But get it gratis; and she’ll give thee more,

  For fear of losing what she gave before. 515

  The losing Gamester shakes the Box in vain,

  And Bleeds, and loses on, in hopes to gain.

  Write then, and in thy Letter, as I said,

  Let her with mighty Promises be fed.

  Cydippe by a Letter was betray’d, 520

  Writ on an Apple to th’ unwary Maid.

  She read herself into a Marriage Vow;

  (And ev’ry Cheat in Love the Gods allow.)

  Learn Eloquence, ye noble Youth of Rome;

  It will not only at the Bar o’ercome: 525

  Sweet words the People and the Senate move;

  But the chief end of Eloquence is Love.

  But in thy Letter hide thy moving Arts;

  Affect not to be thought a Man of Parts.

  None but vain Fools to simple Women Preach; 530

  A learned Letter oft has made a Breach.

  In a familiar Style your Thoughts convey,

  And Write such things, as Present you wou’d say;

  Such words as from the Heart may seem to move:

  ’Tis Wit enough to make her think you Love. 535

  If Seal’d she sends it back, and will not read:

  Yet hope, in time, the business may succeed.

  In time the Steer will to the Yoke submit;

  In time the restiff Horse will bear the Bit.

  Ev’n the hard Plough-share use will wear away; 540

  And stubborn Steel in length of time decay.

  Water is soft, and Marble hard; and yet

  We see soft Water through hard Marble Eat.

  Though late, yet Troy at length in Flames expir’d;

  And ten years more Penelope had tir’d. 545

  Perhaps, thy Lines unanswer’d she retain’d;

  No matter; there’s a Point already gain’d:

  For she who Reads, in time will Answer too;

  Things must be left by just degrees to grow.

  Perhaps she Writes, but Answers with disdain, 550

  And sharply bids you not to Write again:

  What she requires, she fears you shou’d accord;

  The Jilt wou’d not be taken at her word.

  Mean time, if she be carried in her Chair,

  Approach; but do not seem to know she’s there. 555

  Speak softly, to delude the Standers by;

  Or, if aloud, then speak ambiguously.

  If Santring in the Portico she Walk,

  Move slowly too; for that’s a time for talk:

  And sometimes follow, sometimes be her guide: 560

  But when the Croud permits, go side by side

  Nor in the Play-House let her sit alone:

  For she’s the Play-House and the Play in one.

  There thou may’st ogle, or by signs advance

  Thy suit, and seem to touch her Hand by chance. 565

  Admire the Dancer who her liking gains,

  And pity in the Play the Lover’s pains;

  For her sweet sake the loss of time despise;

  Sit while she sits, and when she rises rise.

  But dress not like a Fop; nor curle your Hair, 570

  Nor with a Pumice make your body bare.

  Leave those effeminate and useless toys

  To Eunuchs, who can give no solid joys.

  Neglect becomes a Man: this Theseus found:

  Uncurl’d, uncomb’d, the Nymph his Wishes Crown’d. 575

  The rough Hippolitus was Phædra’s care;

  And Venus thought the rude Adonis fair.

  Be not too Finical; but yet be clean;

  And wear well-fashion’d Cloaths, like other Men.

  Let not your Teeth be yellow, or be foul; 580

  Nor in wide Shoes your Feet too loosely roul.

  Of a black Muzzel, and long Beard beware;

  And let a skilful Barber cut your Hair:

  Your Nailes be pick’d from filth, and even par’d;

  Nor let your nasty Nostrils bud with Beard. 585

  Cure your unsav’ry Breath, gargle your Throat,

  And free your Arm-pits from the Ram and Goat.

  Dress not, in short, too little, or too much;

  And be not wholly French, nor wholly Dutch.

  Now Bacchus calls me to his jolly Rites: 590

  Who wou’d not follow, when a God invites?

  He helps the Poet, and his Pen inspires,

  Kind and indulgent to his former Fires.

  Fair Ariadne wander’d on the shore,

  Forsaken now; and Theseus Loves no more: 595

  Loose was her Gown, dishevel’d was her Hair;

  Her Bosom naked, and her Feet were bare:

  Exclaiming, in the Waters brink she stood;

  Her briny Tears augment the briny Flood.

  She shreik’d, and wept, and both became her Face: 600

  No posture cou’d that Heav’nly form disgrace.

  She beat her Breast: The Traytor’s gone, said she,

  What shall become of poor forsaken me?

  What shall become —— she had not time for more,

  The sounding Cymbals ratled on the Shore. 605

  She swoons for fear, she falls upon the Ground;

  No vital heat was in her body found.

  The Mimallonian Dames about her stood;

  And scudding Satyrs ran before their God.

  Silenus on his Ass did next appear, 610

  And held upon the Mane (the God was clear)

  The drunken Syre pursues; the Dames retire;

  Sometimes the drunken Dames pursue the drunken Syre.

  At last he topples over on the Plain;

  The Satyrs laugh, and bid him rise again. 615

  And now the God of Wine came driving on,

  High on his Chariot by swift Tygers drawn,

  Her Colour, Voice, and Sense forsook the fair;

  Thrice did her trembling Feet for flight prepare,

  And thrice affrighted did her flight forbear. 620

  She shook, like leaves of Corn when Tempests blow

  Or slender Reeds that in the Marshes grow.

  To whom the God — Compose thy fearful Mind;

  In me a truer Husband thou shalt find.

  With Heav’n I will endow thee; and thy Star 625

  Shall with propitious Light be seen afar,

 
; And guide on Seas the doubtful Mariner.

  He said; and from his Chariot leaping light;

  Lest the grim Tygers shou’d the Nymph affright,

  His brawny Arms around her wast he threw; 630

  (For Gods, what ere they will, with ease can do:)

  And swiftly bore her thence: th’ attending throng

  Shout at the Sight, and sing the Nuptial song.

  Now in full bowls her Sorrow she may steep:

  The Bridegroom’s Liquor lays the Bride asleep. 635

  But thou, when flowing Cups in Triumph ride,

  And the lov’d Nymph is seated by thy side;

  Invoke the God, and all the mighty Pow’rs,

  That Wine may not defraud thy Genial hours.

  Then in ambiguous Words thy suit prefer; 640

  Which she may know were all addrest to her,

  In liquid purple Letters write her Name,

  Which she may read, and reading find thy Flame.

  Then may your Eyes confess your mutual Fires;

  (For Eyes have Tongues, and glances tell desires) 645

  Whene’er she Drinks, be first to take the Cup;

  And where she laid her Lips, the Blessing sup.

  When she to Carving does her Hand advance,

  Put out thy own, and touch it as by chance.

  Thy service ev’n her Husband must attend: 650

  (A Husband is a most convenient Friend.)

  Seat the fool Cuckold in the highest place:

  And with thy Garland his dull Temples grace.

  Whether below, or equal in degree,

  Let him be Lord of all the Company; 655

  And what he says, be seconded by Thee.

  ’Tis common to deceive through friendships Name:

  But common though it be, ’tis still to blame:

  Thus Factors frequently their Trust betray,

  And to themselves their Masters gains convey. 660

  Drink to a certain Pitch, and then give o’re;

  Thy Tongue and Feet may stumble, drinking more.

  Of drunken Quarrels in her sight beware;

  Pot Valour only serves to fright the Fair.

  Eurytion justly fell, by Wine opprest, 665

  For his rude Riot at a Wedding-Feast.

  Sing, if you have a Voice; and show your Parts

  In Dancing, if endu’d with Dancing Arts.

  Do any thing within your power to please;

  Nay, ev’n affect a seeming Drunkenness; 670

  Clip every word; and if by chance you speak

  Too home; or if too broad a Jest you break;

  In your excuse the Company will joyn,

  And lay the Fault upon the Force of Wine.

  True Drunkenness is subject to offend; 675

  But when ’tis feign’d, ’tis oft a Lover’s Friend.

  Then safely you may praise her beauteous Face,

  And call him Happy, who is in her grace.

  Her Husband thinks himself the Man design’d;

  But curse the Cuckold in your secret Mind. 680

  When all are risen, and prepare to go,

  Mix with the Croud, and tread upon her Toe.

  This is the proper time to make thy Court;

  For now she’s in the Vein, and fit for Sport;

  Lay Bashfulness, that rustick Virtue, by; 685

  To manly Confidence thy Thoughts apply.

  On Fortune’s Foretop timely fix thy hold;

  Now speak and speed, for Venus loves the old.

  No Rules of Rhetorick here I need afford:

  Only begin, and trust the following word; 690

  It will be Witty of its own accord.

  Act well the Lover, let thy Speech abound

  In dying words, that represent thy Wound.

  Distrust not her belief; she will be mov’d;

  All women think they merit to be lov’d. 695

  Sometimes a Man begins to Love in Jest,

  And, after, feels the Torments he profest.

  For your own sakes be pitiful ye Fair;

  For a feign’d Passion may a true prepare.

  By Flatteries we prevail on Woman-kind; 700

  As hollow Banks by Streams are undermin’d.

  Tell her, her Face is Fair, her Eyes are Sweet

  Her Taper Fingers praise, and little Feet.

  Such Praises ev’n the Chast are pleas’d to hear;

  Both Maids and Matrons hold their Beauty dear. 705

  Once naked Pallas with Jove’s Queen appear’d;

  And still they grieve that Venus was prefer’d.

  Praise the proud Peacock, and he spreads his Train;

  Be silent, and he pulls it in again.

  Pleas’d is the Courser in his rapid Race; 710

  Applaud his Running, and he mends his pace.

  But largely promise, and devoutly swear;

  And, if need be, call ev’ry God to hear.

  Jove sits above, forgiving with a Smile

  The Perjuries that easy Maids beguile. 715

  He swore to Juno by the Stygian Lake:

  Forsworn, he dares not an Example make,

  Or punish Falshood, for his own dear sake.

  ’Tis for our Int’rest that the Gods shou’d be;

  Let us believe ‘em: I believe, they see, 720

  And both reward, and punish equally.

  Not that they live above like lazy Drones,

  Or Kings below, supine upon their Thrones.

  Lead then your Lives as present in their sight;

  Be Just in Dealings, and defend the right; 725

  By Fraud betray not, nor Oppress by Might.

  But ’tis a Venial Sin to Cheat the Fair;

  All Men have Liberty of Conscience there.

  On cheating Nymphs a Cheat is well design’d;

  ’Tis a prophane and a deceitful Kind. 730

  ’Tis said, that Ægypt for nine Years was dry,

  Nor Nile did Floods, nor Heav’n did Rain supply.

  A Foreigner at length inform’d the King,

  That slaughter’d Guests would kindly Moisture bring.

  The King reply’d, On thee the Lot shall fall, 735

  Be thou, my Guest, the Sacrifice for all.

  Thus Phalaris, Perillus taught to low,

  And made him season first the brazen Cow.

  A rightful Doom, the Laws of Nature cry,

  ’Tis, the Artificers of Death should die. 740

  Thus justly Women suffer by Deceit;

  Their Practice authorizes us to cheat.

  Beg her, with Tears, thy warm Desires to grant;

  For Tears will pierce a Heart of Adamant.

  If Tears will not be squeez’d, then rub your Eye, 745

  Or noint the Lids, and seem at least to cry.

  Kiss, if you can: Resistance if she make,

  And will not give you Kisses, let her take.

  Fie, fie, you naughty Man, are Words of Course;

  She struggles but to be subdu’d by Force. 750

  Kiss only soft, I charge you, and beware,

  With your hard Bristles not to brush the Fair.

  He who has gain’d a Kiss, and gains no more,

  Deserves to lose the Bliss he got before.

  If once she kiss, her Meaning is exprest; 755

  There wants but little Pushing for the rest.

  Which if thou dost not gain, by Strength or Art,

  The Name of Clown then suits with thy Desert;

  ’Tis downright Dulness, and a shameful Part.

  Perhaps, she calls it Force; but, if she ‘scape, 760

  She will not thank you for th’ omitted Rape.

  The Sex is cunning to conceal their Fires;

  They would be forc’d, ev’n to their own Desires.

  They seem t’ accuse you, with a down-cast Sight,

  But in their Souls confess you did them right. 765

  Who might be forc’d, and yet untouch’d depart,

  Thank with their Ton
gues, but curse you with their Heart.

  Fair Phœbe and her Sister did prefer,

  To their dull Mates, the noble Ravisher.

  What Deidamia did, in Days of Yore, 770

  The Tale is old, but worth the reading o’er.

  When Venus had the golden Apple gain’d,

  And the just Judge fair Hellen had obtain’d:

  When she with Triumph was at Troy receiv’d,

  The Trojans joyful while the Grecians griev’d: 775

  They vow’d Revenge of violated Laws,

  And Greece was arming in the Cuckold’s Cause:

  Achilles, by his Mother warn’d from War,

  Disguis’d his Sex, and lurk’d among the Fair,

  What means Eacides to spin and sow? 780

  With Spear, and Sword, in Field thy Valour show;

  And, leaving this, the Nobler Pallas know.

  Why dost thou in that Hand the Distaff wield,

  Which is more worthy to sustain a Shield?

  Or with that other draw the woolly Twine, 785

  The same the Fates for Hector’s Thread assign?

  Brandish thy Fauchion in thy pow’rful Hand,

  Which can alone the pond’rous Lance command.

  In the same Room by chance the Royal Maid

  Was lodg’d, and, by his seeming Sex betray’d, 790

  Close to her Side the Youthful Heroe laid.

  I know not how his Courtship he began;

  But, to her Cost, she found it was a Man.

  ’Tis thought she struggled; but withal ’tis thought,

  Her Wish was to be conquer’d, when she fought. 795

  For when disclos’d, and hast’ning to the Field,

  He laid his Distaff down, and took the Shield,

  With Tears her humble Suit she did prefer,

  And thought to stay the grateful Ravisher.

  She sighs, she sobs, she begs him not to part: 800

  And now ’tis Nature, what before was Art.

  She strives by Force her Lover to detain,

  And wishes to be ravish’d once again.

  This is the Sex; they will not first begin,

  But, when compell’d, are pleas’d to suffer Sin. 805

  Is there, who thinks that Women first should woo;

  Lay by thy Self-Conceit, thou foolish Beaux.

  Begin, and save their Modesty the Shame;

  ’Tis well for thee, if they receive thy Flame.

  ’Tis decent for a Man to speak his Mind; 810

  They but expect th’ Occasion to be kind.

  Ask, that thou may’st enjoy; she waits for this;

  And on thy first Advance depends thy Bliss.

  Ev’n Jove himself was forc’d to sue for Love;

  None of the Nymphs did first sollicit Jove. 815

  But if you find your Pray’rs encrease her Pride,

  Strike Sail awhile, and wait another Tide.

  They fly when we pursue; but make Delay,