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And of true joy we can expresse no more
Thus crown'd, then when we buried thee before.

Princesse in heav'n, forgivenes! whilst we
Resigne our office to the HIERARCHY.

All historical and genealogical works are deficient
in minute information relative to the family of Charles I.
Even in Anderson's ROYAL GENEALOGIES, 1732, and in the folio
editions of Rapin and Tindal, these details are overlooked.
At page 36 of his DESCENDANTS OF THE STUARTS, 1858, Mr. Townend
observes that two of the children of Charles I. died in infancy,
and of these the Princesse Katherine, commemorated by Lovelace,
was perhaps one. The present verses were originally printed
in MUSARUM OXONIENSIUM CHARISTERIA, Oxon. 1638, 4to, from which
a few better readings have been obtained. With the exceptions
mentioned in the notes, the variations of the earlier text from
that found here are merely literal.

In Ellis's ORIGINAL LETTERS, Second Series, iii. 265, is printed
a scrap from Harl. MS. 6988, in the handwriting of the Princess
Elizabeth, daughter of Charles I., giving a list of the children
of that prince by Henrietta Maria, with the dates of their birth.
There mention is made of a Princess Katherine, born Jan. 29, 1639.
1639 is, I believe, a slip of the pen for 1637; that is to say,
the princess was born on the 29th of January, 1637-8. This
discrepancy between the CHARISTERIA and the memorandum in Harl. MS.
escaped Sir H. Ellis, who was possibly unaware of the existence of
the former. For, unless a mistake is assumed on the part of the
writer of the MS., the existence of TWO Princesses Katherine must
be granted.

This reading from CHARISTERIA, 1638, seems preferable to
APTLY, as it stands in the LUCASTA.

So the CHARISTERIA. The reading in LUCASTA is MOURNE.


This word is omitted in the LUCASTA; it is here supplied

is clearly the true word.

i.e. freed. FREE and FREED were sometimes formerly
pronounced like FRY and FRYED: for Lord North, in his
FOREST OF VARIETIES, 1645, has these lines -

"Birds that long have lived free,
Caught and cag'd, but pine and die."

Here evidently FREE is intended to rhyme with DIE.


Pray, ladies, breath, awhile lay by
Caelestial Sydney's ARCADY;
Heere's a story that doth claime
A little respite from his flame:
Then with a quick dissolving looke
Unfold the smoothnes of this book,
To which no art (except your sight)
Can reach a worthy epithite;
'Tis an abstract of all volumes,
A pillaster of all columnes
Fancy e're rear'd to wit, to be
The smallest gods epitome,
And so compactedly expresse
All lovers pleasing wretchednes.

Gallant Pamela's majesty
And her sweet sisters modesty
Are fixt in each of you; you are,
Distinct, what these together were;
Divinest, that are really
What Cariclea's feign'd to be;
That are ev'ry one the Nine,
And brighter here Astreas shine;
View our Lucippe, and remaine
In her, these beauties o're againe.

Amazement! Noble Clitophon
Ev'n now lookt somewhat colder on
His cooler mistresse, and she too
Smil'd not as she us'd to do.
See! the individuall payre
Are at sad oddes, and parted are;
They quarrell, aemulate, and stand
At strife, who first shal kisse your hand.

A new dispute there lately rose
Betwixt the Greekes and Latines, whose
Temples should be bound with glory,
In best languaging this story;

Yee heyres of love, that with one SMILE
A ten-yeeres war can reconcile;
Peacefull Hellens! Vertuous! See:
The jarring languages agree!
And here, all armes layd by, they doe
In English meet to wayt on you.

Achillis Tatii Alexandrini DE LUCIPPES ET CLITOPHONTIS
AMORIBUS LIBRI OCTO. The translation of this celebrated work,
to which Lovelace contributed the commendatory verses here
republished, was executed by his friend Anthony Hodges, A.M.,
of New College, Oxford, and was printed at Oxford in 1638, 8vo.
There had been already a translation by W. Burton, purporting
to be done from the Greek, in 1597, 4to. The text of 1649 and
that of 1638 exhibit so many variations, that the reader may be
glad to have the opportunity of comparison: -

"Fair ones, breathe: a while lay by
Blessed Sidney's ARCADY:
Here's a story that will make
You not repent HIM to forsake;
And with your dissolving looke
Vntie the contents of this booke;
To which nought (except your sight)
Can give a worthie epithite.
'Tis an abstract of all volumes,
A pillaster of all columnes
Fancie e're rear'd to wit, to be
Little LOVE'S epitome,
And compactedly expresse
All lovers happy wretchednesse.

"Brave PAMELA'S majestie
And her sweet sister's modestie
Are fixt in each of you, you are
Alone, what these together were
Divinest, that are really
What Cariclea's feign'd to be;
That are every one, the Nine;
And on earth Astraeas shine;
Be our LEUCIPPE, and remaine
In HER, all these o're againe.

"Wonder! Noble CLITOPHON
Me thinkes lookes somewhat colder on
His beauteous mistresse, and she too
Smiles not as she us'd to doe.
See! the individuall payre
Are at oddes and parted are;
Quarrel, emulate, and stand
At strife, who first shall kisse your hand.

"A new warre e're while arose
'Twixt the GREEKES and LATINES, whose
Temples should be bound with glory
In best languaging this story:
You, that with one lovely smile
A ten-yeares warre can reconcile;
Peacefull Hellens awfull see
The jarring languages agree,
And here all armes laid by, they doe
Meet in English to court you."
Rich. Lovelace, Ma: Ar: A: Glou: Eq: Aur: Fil: Nat: Max.

See Halliwell's DICTIONARY OF OLD PLAYS, 1860, art. CLYTOPHON.

There can be no doubt that Sidney's ARCADIA was formerly
as popular in its way among the readers of both sexes as Sir
Richard Baker's CHRONICLE appears to have been. The former was
especially recommended to those who sought occasional relaxation
from severer studies. See Higford's INSTITUTIONS, 1658, 8vo,
p. 46-7. In his poem of THE SURPRIZE, Cotton describes his
nymph as reading the ARCADIA on the bank of a river -

"The happy OBJECT of her eye
Whose amorous tale had so betrai'd
Desire in this all-lovely maid;
That, whilst her check a blush did warm,
I read LOVES story in her form."
By Charles Cotton, Esq. Lond. 1689, 8vo, p. 392.

The Pamela of Sydney's ARCADIA

The allusion is to the celebrated story of THEAGENES AND
CHARICLEA, which was popular in this country at an early period.
A drama on the subject was performed before Court in 1574.

Lovelace refers, it may be presumed, to an edition
of ACHILLES TATIUS, in which the Greek text was printed
with a Latin translation.


Hearke, reader! wilt be learn'd ith' warres?
A gen'rall in a gowne?
Strike a league with arts and scarres,
And snatch from each a crowne?

Wouldst be a wonder? Such a one,
As should win with a looke?
A bishop in a garison,
And conquer by the booke?

Take then this mathematick shield,
And henceforth by its rules
Be able to dispute ith' field,
And combate in the schooles.

Whilst peaceful learning once againe
And the souldier so concord,
As that he fights now with her penne,
And she writes with his sword.

"PALLAS ARMATA. The Gentlemen's Armorie. Wherein
the right and genuine use of the Rapier and of the Sword,
as well against the right handed as against the left handed
man 'is displayed.' [By G. A.] London, 1639, 8vo. With several
illustrative woodcuts." The lines, as originally printed
in PALLAS ARMATA, vary from those subsequently admitted into
LUCASTA. They are as follow: -

Harke, reader, would'st be learn'd ith' warres,
A CAPTAINE in a gowne?
Strike a league with bookes and starres,
And weave of both the crowne?

Would'st be a wonder? Such a one
As would winne with a looke?
A schollar in a garrison?
And conquer by the booke?

Take then this mathematick shield,
And henceforth by its rules,
Be able to dispute ith' field,
And combate in the schooles.

Whil'st peacefull learning once agen
And th' souldier do concorde,
As that he fights now with her penne,
And she writes with his sword.
Rich. Lovelace, A. Glouces. Oxon.


How have I bin religious? what strange good
Has scap't me, that I never understood?
Have I hel-guarded Haeresie o'rthrowne?
Heald wounded states? made kings and kingdoms one?
That FATE should be so merciful to me,
To let me live t' have said I have read thee.

Faire star, ascend! the joy! the life! the light
Of this tempestuous age, this darke worlds sight!
Oh, from thy crowne of glory dart one flame
May strike a sacred reverence, whilest thy name
(Like holy flamens to their god of day)
We bowing, sing; and whilst we praise, we pray.

Bright spirit! whose aeternal motion
Of wit, like Time, stil in it selfe did run,
Binding all others in it, and did give
Commission, how far this or that shal live;
Like DESTINY of poems who, as she
Signes death to all, her selfe cam never dye.

And now thy purple-robed Traegedy,
In her imbroider'd buskins, cals mine eye,
Where the brave Aetius we see betray'd,
T' obey his death, whom thousand lives obey'd;
Whilst that the mighty foole his scepter breakes,
And through his gen'rals wounds his own doome speakes,
Weaving thus richly VALENTINIAN,
The costliest monarch with the cheapest man.

Souldiers may here to their old glories adde,
The LOVER love, and be with reason MAD:
Not, as of old, Alcides furious,
Who wilder then his bull did teare the house
(Hurling his language with the canvas stone):
Twas thought the monster ror'd the sob'rer tone.

But ah! when thou thy sorrow didst inspire
With passions, blacke as is her darke attire,
Virgins as sufferers have wept to see
So white a soule, so red a crueltie;
That thou hast griev'd, and with unthought redresse
Dri'd their wet eyes who now thy mercy blesse;
Yet, loth to lose thy watry jewell, when
Joy wip't it off, laughter straight sprung't agen.

Now ruddy checked Mirth with rosie wings
Fans ev'ry brow with gladnesse, whilst she sings
Delight to all, and the whole theatre
A festivall in heaven doth appeare:
Nothing but pleasure, love; and (like the morne)
Each face a gen'ral smiling doth adorne.

Heare ye, foul speakers, that pronounce the aire
Of stewes and shores, I will informe you where
And how to cloath aright your wanton wit,
Without her nasty bawd attending it:
View here a loose thought sayd with such a grace,
Minerva might have spoke in Venus face;
So well disguis'd, that 'twas conceiv'd by none
But Cupid had Diana's linnen on;
And all his naked parts so vail'd, th' expresse
The shape with clowding the uncomlinesse;
That if this Reformation, which we
Receiv'd, had not been buried with thee,
The stage (as this worke) might have liv'd and lov'd
Her lines, the austere Skarlet had approv'd;
And th' actors wisely been from that offence
As cleare, as they are now from audience.

Thus with thy Genius did the scaene expire,
Wanting thy active and correcting fire,
That now (to spread a darknesse over all)
Nothing remaines but Poesie to fall:
And though from these thy Embers we receive
Some warmth, so much as may be said, we live;
That we dare praise thee blushlesse, in the head
Of the best piece Hermes to Love e're read;
That we rejoyce and glory in thy wit,
And feast each other with remembring it;
That we dare speak thy thought, thy acts recite:
Yet all men henceforth be afraid to write.

Fletcher the dramatist fell a victim to the plague of 1625.
See Aubrey's LIVES, vol. 2, part i. p. 352. The verses here
republished were originally prefixed to the first collected edition
of Beaumont and Fletcher's TRAGEDIES AND COMEDIES, 1647, folio.
It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader that Lovelace was
only a child when Fletcher died.

VALENTINIAN, A TRAGEDY. First printed in the folio of 1647.

THE MAD LOVER. Also first printed in the folio of 1647.

An allusion to the HERCULES FURENS of Euripides. Lovelace
had, no doubt, some tincture of Greek scholarship (See Wood's ATH.
OX. ii. 466); but as to the extent of his acquirements in this
direction, it is hard to speak with confidence. Among the books
of Mr. Thomas Jolley, dispersed in 1853, was a copy of Clenardus
INSTITUTIONES GRAECAE LINGUAE, Lugd. Batav. 1626, 8vo., on the
title of which was "Richard Lovelace, 1630, March 5," supposed
to be the autograph of the poet when a schoolboy.

In the margin of the copy of 1647, against these lines


THE CUSTOME OF THE COUNTREY - Marginal note in the copy
of 1647.

Query, LAUD.

These lines refer to the prohibition published by the
Parliament against the performance of stage-plays and interludes.
The first ordinance appeared in 1642, but that not being found
effectual, a more stringent measure was enacted in 1647, directing,
under the heaviest penalties, the total and immediate abolition
of theatricals.

i.e. The scenic drama. The original meaning of SCENE
was a wooden stage for the representation of plays, &c.,
and it is here used therefore in its primitive sense.

In the old mythology of Greece, Cupid is the pupil
of Mercury or Hermes; or, in other words, LOVE is instructed




Mart. lib. I. Epig. 26.


Printed by WILLIAM GODBID for






LUCASTA (fair, but hapless maid!)
Once flourisht underneath the shade
Of your illustrious Mother; now,
An orphan grown, she bows to you!
To you, her vertues' noble heir;
Oh may she find protection there!
Nor let her welcome be the less,
'Cause a rough hand makes her address:
One (to whom foes the Muses are)
Born and bred up in rugged war:
For, conscious how unfit I am,
I only have pronounc'd her name
To waken pity in your brest,
And leave her tears to plead the rest.
Your most obedient
Servant and kinsman


This gentleman was the eldest son of John, second Lord
Lovelace of Hurley, co. Berks, by Anne, daughter of Thomas,
Earl of Cleveland. The first part of LUCASTA was inscribed
by the poet himself to Lady Lovelace, his mother.




LUCASTA, frown, and let me die,
But smile, and see, I live;
The sad indifference of your eye
Both kills and doth reprieve.
You hide our fate within its screen;
We feel our judgment, ere we hear.
So in one picture I have seen
An angel here, the devil there.


Heark, how she laughs aloud,
Although the world put on its shrowd:
Wept at by the fantastic crowd,
Who cry: one drop, let fall
From her, might save the universal ball.
She laughs again
At our ridiculous pain;
And at our merry misery
She laughs, until she cry.
Sages, forbear
That ill-contrived tear,
Although your fear
Doth barricado hope from your soft ear.
That which still makes her mirth to flow,
Is our sinister-handed woe,
Which downwards on its head doth go,
And, ere that it is sown, doth grow.
This makes her spleen contract,
And her just pleasure feast:
For the unjustest act
Is still the pleasant'st jest.



Night! loathed jaylor of the lock'd up sun,
And tyrant-turnkey on committed day,
Bright eyes lye fettered in thy dungeon,
And Heaven it self doth thy dark wards obey.
Thou dost arise our living hell;
With thee grones, terrors, furies dwell;
Until LUCASTA doth awake,
And with her beams these heavy chaines off shake.

Behold! with opening her almighty lid,
Bright eyes break rowling, and with lustre spread,
And captive day his chariot mounted is;
Night to her proper hell is beat,
And screwed to her ebon seat;
Till th' Earth with play oppressed lies,
And drawes again the curtains of her eyes.

But, bondslave, I know neither day nor night;
Whether she murth'ring sleep, or saving wake;
Now broyl'd ith' zone of her reflected light,
Then frose, my isicles, not sinews shake.
Smile then, new Nature, your soft blast
Doth melt our ice, and fires waste;
Whil'st the scorch'd shiv'ring world new born
Now feels it all the day one rising morn.



Introth, I do my self perswade,
That the wilde boy is grown a man,
And all his childishnesse off laid,
E're since LUCASTA did his fires fan;
H' has left his apish jigs,
And whipping hearts like gigs:
For t' other day I heard him swear,
That beauty should be crown'd in honours chair.

With what a true and heavenly state
He doth his glorious darts dispence,
Now cleans'd from falsehood, blood and hate,
And newly tipt with innocence!
Love Justice is become,
And doth the cruel doome;
Reversed is the old decree;
Behold! he sits inthron'd with majestie.

Inthroned in LUCASTA'S eye,
He doth our faith and hearts survey;
Then measures them by sympathy,
And each to th' others breast convey;
Whilst to his altars now
The frozen vestals bow,
And strickt Diana too doth go
A-hunting with his fear'd, exchanged bow.

Th' imbracing seas and ambient air
Now in his holy fires burn;
Fish couple, birds and beasts in pair
Do their own sacrifices turn.
This is a miracle,
That might religion swell;
But she, that these and their god awes,
Her crowned self submits to her own laws.


Twas not for some calm blessing to deceive,
Thou didst thy polish'd hands in shagg'd furs weave;
It were no blessing thus obtain'd;
Thou rather would'st a curse have gain'd,
Then let thy warm driven snow be ever stain'd.

Not that you feared the discolo'ring cold
Might alchymize their silver into gold;
Nor could your ten white nuns so sin,
That you should thus pennance them in,
Each in her coarse hair smock of discipline.

Nor, Hero-like who, on their crest still wore
A lyon, panther, leopard, or a bore,
To looke their enemies in their herse,
Thou would'st thy hand should deeper pierce,
And, in its softness rough, appear more fierce.

No, no, LUCASTA, destiny decreed,
That beasts to thee a sacrifice should bleed,
And strip themselves to make you gay:
For ne'r yet herald did display
A coat, where SABLES upon ERMIN lay.

This for lay-lovers, that must stand at dore,
Salute the threshold, and admire no more;
But I, in my invention tough,
Rate not this outward bliss enough,
But still contemplate must the hidden muffe.


Dull as I was, to think that a court fly
Presum'd so neer her eye;
When 'twas th' industrious bee
Mistook her glorious face for paradise,
To summe up all his chymistry of spice;
With a brave pride and honour led,
Neer both her suns he makes his bed,
And, though a spark, struggles to rise as red.
Then aemulates the gay
Daughter of day;
Acts the romantick phoenix' fate,
When now, with all his sweets lay'd out in state,
LUCASTA scatters but one heat,
And all the aromatick pills do sweat,
And gums calcin'd themselves to powder beat,
Which a fresh gale of air
Conveys into her hair;
Then chaft, he's set on fire,
And in these holy flames doth glad expire;
And that black marble tablet there
So neer her either sphere
Was plac'd; nor foyl, nor ornament,
But the sweet little bee's large monument.

The following is a poet's lecture to the ladies of his
time on the long prevailing practice of wearing patches,
in which it seems that Lucasta acquiesced: -

LADIES turn conjurers, and can impart
The hidden mystery of the black art,
Black artificial patches do betray;
They more affect the works of night than day.
The creature strives the Creator to disgrace,
By patching that which is a perfect face:
A little stain upon the purest dye
Is both offensive to the heart and eye.
Defile not then with spots that face of snow,
Where the wise God His workmanship doth show,
The light of nature and the light of grace
Is the complexion for a lady's face.
FLAMMA SINE FUMO, by R. Watkyns, 1662, p. 81.

In a poem entitled THE BURSSE OF REFORMATION, in praise of
the New Exchange, printed in WIT RESTORED, 1658, patches are
enumerated among the wares of all sorts to be procured there: -

"Heer patches are of every cut,
For pimples and for scars."

They were also used for rheum, as appears from a passage in

"JUDITH. I am so troubled with the rheum too. Mouse, what's
good for it?
HONEY. How often I have told you you must get a patch."
Webster's WORKS, ed. Hazlitt, i. 87. See

"Mrs. Pepys wore patches, and so did my Lady Sandwich and her
daughter." - DIARY, 30 Aug. and 20 Oct. 1660.


As I beheld a winter's evening air,
Curl'd in her court-false-locks of living hair,
Butter'd with jessamine the sun left there.

Galliard and clinquant she appear'd to give,
A serenade or ball to us that grieve,
And teach us A LA MODE more gently live.

But as a Moor, who to her cheeks prefers
White spots, t' allure her black idolaters,
Me thought she look'd all ore-bepatch'd with stars.

Like the dark front of some Ethiopian queen,
Vailed all ore with gems of red, blew, green,
Whose ugly night seem'd masked with days skreen.

Whilst the fond people offer'd sacrifice
To saphyrs, 'stead of veins and arteries,
And bow'd unto the diamonds, not her eyes.

Behold LUCASTA'S face, how't glows like noon!
A sun intire is her complexion,
And form'd of one whole constellation.

So gently shining, so serene, so cleer,
Her look doth universal Nature cheer;
Only a cloud or two hangs here and there.


I laugh and sing, but cannot tell
Whether the folly on't sounds well;
But then I groan,
Methinks, in tune;
Whilst grief, despair and fear dance to the air
Of my despised prayer.

A pretty antick love does this,

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