No More Learning

Till when, in such assurance live ye may,
Nor fear or wish your dying day.

_Brass_, money.
_Cocker_, pamper.
_Neat_, dainty.
_Spirting-salt_, the "saliente mica" of Horace, See Note.
_Lar_, the "closet-gods," or gods of the house.
_Colworts_, cabbages.
_Size_ or _assize_, a fixed allowance of food, a ration.


107. DIVINATION BY A DAFFODIL.

When a daffodil I see,
Hanging down his head towards me,
Guess I may what I must be:
First, I shall decline my head;
Secondly, I shall be dead;
Lastly, safely buried.


108. TO THE PAINTER, TO DRAW HIM A PICTURE.

Come, skilful Lupo, now, and take
Thy bice, thy umber, pink, and lake;
And let it be thy pencil's strife,
To paint a Bridgeman to the life:
Draw him as like too, as you can,
An old, poor, lying, flattering man:
His cheeks bepimpled, red and blue;
His nose and lips of mulberry hue.
Then, for an easy fancy, place
A burling iron for his face:
Next, make his cheeks with breath to swell,
And for to speak, if possible:
But do not so, for fear lest he
Should by his breathing, poison thee.
_Bice_, properly a brown grey, but by transference from "blue bice" and
"green bice," used for blue and green.
_Burling iron_, pincers for extracting knots.


111. A LYRIC TO MIRTH.

While the milder fates consent,
Let's enjoy our merriment:
Drink, and dance, and pipe, and play;
Kiss our dollies night and day:
Crowned with clusters of the vine,
Let us sit, and quaff our wine.
Call on Bacchus, chant his praise;
Shake the thyrse, and bite the bays:
Rouse Anacreon from the dead,
And return him drunk to bed:
Sing o'er Horace, for ere long
Death will come and mar the song:
Then shall Wilson and Gotiere
Never sing or play more here.

_Wilson_, Dr. John Wilson, the singer and composer, one of the king's
musicians (1594-1673).
_Gotiere_, Jacques Gaultier, a French lutist at the court of Charles I.


112. TO THE EARL OF WESTMORELAND.

When my date's done, and my grey age must die,
Nurse up, great lord, this my posterity:
Weak though it be, long may it grow and stand,
Shored up by you, brave Earl of Westmoreland.


113. AGAINST LOVE.

Whene'er my heart love's warmth but entertains,
Oh frost! oh snow!