LOVE and HONOUR:
OR, THE
Lovers Farewel to Calista:
Being sent from Sea in the late Engagement against the Dutch, to his Mistress, under
the Name of Calista. To which is added, The LADYs Deploring and Ingenious
Answer. To the Tune of, Now the Tyrant hath stolen, etc.
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FArewel my Calista, my joy and my grief,
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In vain have I lovd thee, and found no relief;
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Undone by your Virteus so strict and severe,
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Your eyes gave me love, but you gave me despair;
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Now calld by my honour, I seek with content,
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That Fate which in pitty you would not prevent:
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To languish in love were to find by delay,
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A death thats more welcome the speediest way.
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On Seas, and in battles, mongst bulets and fire,
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The danger is less than in hopeless desire,
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The deaths wound you gave me, tho far off I bear,
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My fall from your sights not to cost you a tear:
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But if the kind flood on a wave should convey,
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And under your window my body should lay,
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The wound on my breast, when you happen to see,
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You will say, with a sigh, it was given by me.
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When Suitors are wounded with stabs of disdain,
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Tis happiness to be put out of their pain:
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The grave is a place to bid torm[e]nt farewel,
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Lovers are torturd twixt Heaven and Hell,
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When frowns of a Mistress do turn a Mad ore,
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Tis safer on ship-board than tis on the shore:
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I find by experience, though with loss of breath,
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Tis wo[r]se to incounter with Cupid than Death.
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What strength had a Lady with cast of her eye,
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To make a Man live, or compel him to dye?
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Such power had Calista with smile and with frown,
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Shed raise me to Heaven, then tumble me down:
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But Dearest, take care how you put faith in Men,
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For I fear you will never be lovd again:
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You needs must acknowledge whilst I could draw breath,
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I was your unchangeable Servant till death.
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Once more my last Farewel I breathe in a blast,
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The cloud on my vitals is much over-cast;
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I faint, fail, I perish, and suddenly dye,
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Yet sure should recover if thou wert but by:
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That I nere enjoyd thee, I do not repine,
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Thou livst with thy honour, and I dye with mine:
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For after-ages this story will prove,
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I dyd in the War for my King and my Love.
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The LADYS Answer.
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BLame not your Calista, nor call her your grief,
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Twas honour, not she, that denyd you relief:
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Abase not her Virtues, nor term them severe,
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Who loves without honour, must look for despair.
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Now prompted by pitty I truly lament
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The force of your Fate, which I could not prevent:
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And languish to think that your blood did defray.
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The expence of your Love, tho so noble away.
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On Seas and in Battles that you did expire,
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Was causd by your Valour, not hopeless Desire;
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Of your Fame, there acquired, I greedily hear,
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And grieve when I think it cost you so dear:
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But when your sad Friends shall your body convey
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By my window, your Funeral-duties to pay,
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Ill sigh that your Fate then I could not reverse,
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And all my kind Wishes Ill strew on your Herse.
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When Suitors petition, and run upon shelves,
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Or shot, if denyd, they do murther themselves:
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The grave is a couch where the Virtuous remain,
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Without expectation of sorrow or pain.
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If the frowns of a Mistress can rule a Mans fate,
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He values his life at pitiful rate:
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Tho now she look cloudy, when he draws the scene,
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Who knows but the day-light may clear up again.
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The looks of a Lady you falsely do scan,
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Tis not strength in the Woman, but weakness in Man,
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When Men set up Idols of flesh, blood and bone,
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And bow down to worship, the fault is their own:
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I hope I shall ner be deceived by Men:
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For your sake I never shall trust them again:
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Tis fatal when Lovers do suffer such strife,
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That one must lose Honour, or tother lose Life.
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My mind never can your last farewel forget,
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My tears shall confes, Ill not dye in your debt:
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I heartily wish I had been by your side,
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That you might recover, or I might have dyed:
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Then both to Elezium we had been conveyd,
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Where Ladies by Lovers are never betrayd.
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But in future ages this story theyll sing,
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Twas long of your Love that you dyd for your King.
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