[28] his. 1634, 1635. [29] wit. 1634. _To my worthy Cousin_ Mr. E. C. _In praise of the City life, in the long Vacation._ I Like the greene plush which your meadows weare; I praise your pregnant fields, which duly beare Their wealthy burden to th'industrious Bore. Nor doe I disallow that who are poore In minde and fortune, thither should retire: But hate that he who's warme with [30]holy fire Of any knowledge, and 'mong-us may feast On Nectar'd wit, should turne himselfe t' a beast, And graze ith' Country. Why did nature wrong So much her paines, as to give you a tongue And fluent language; If converse you hold With Oxen in the stall, and sheep ith' fold? But now it's long Vacation you will say The towne is empty, and who ever may To th' pleasure of his Country home repaire, Flyes from th' infection of our _London_ aire. In this your errour. Now's the time alone To live here; when the City Dame is gone, T' her house at _Brandford_; for beyond that she Imagines there's no land, but _Barbary_, Where lies her husbands Factor. When from hence Rid is the Country Justice whose non-sence Corrupted had the language of the Inne, Where he and his horse litter'd: We beginne To live in silence, when the noyse oth' Bench Not deafens _Westminster_, nor corrupt French Walkes _Fleet-street_ in her gowne. Ruffes of the Barre, By the Vacations powre translated are, To Cut-worke bands. And who were busie here, Are gone to sow sedition in the shire. The aire by this is purg'd, and the Termes strife, Thus fled the City: we the civill life Lead happily. When in the gentle way, Of noble mirth, I have the long liv'd day, Contracted to a moment: I retire. To my _Castara_, and meet such a fire Of mutuall love: that if the City were Infected, that would purifie the ayre. [30] th' holy fire. 1634. _Loves Aniversarie To the Sunne._ Thou art return'd (great Light) to that blest houre In which I first by marriage, sacred power, Joyn'd with _Castara_ hearts: And as the same Thy lustre is, as then, so is our flame: Which had increast, but that by loves decree, 'Twas such at first, it ne're could greater be. But tell me (glorious Lampe) in thy survey, Of things below thee, what did not decay By age to weaknesse? I since that have seene The Rose bud forth and fade, the tree grow greene And wither, and the beauty of the field With Winter wrinkled. Even thy selfe dost yeeld Something to time, and to thy grave fall nigher. But vertuous love is one sweet endlesse fire. _Against them who lay unchastity to the sex of Women._ They meet but with unwholesome Springs, And Summers which infectious are: They heare but when the Meremaid sings, And onely see the falling starre: Who ever dare, Affirme no woman chaste and faire.