WOULD you be a man of fashion?
Would you lead a life divine?
Take a little dram of passion
In a lusty dose of wine.
If the nymph have no compassion,
Vain it is to sigh and groan:
Love was but put in for fashion,
Wine will do the work alone.
A Song for Love.
WOULD you know earth's highest pleasure?
Would you rival gods above?
Drink rich wines, but drink with measure,
But fear no excess in love.
Or if wine you quite give over,
You will nothing lose thereby;
All is rapture to a lover,
So in love he live or die.
From Wit at a Venture: or Clio's Privy Garden, 1674.[76]
Epithalamium.
TO bed ye two in one united go,
To pleasures killing;
Embrace and struggle till your spirits flow,
Embrace more willing
Than th' loving palms (great union's wonder),
That ne'er bore any fruit asunder.
Be young to each when winter and grey hairs
Your head shall climb;
May your affections like the merry spheres
Still move in time,
And may (with many a good presage)
Your marriage prove your merry age.