Amoret, or, Policy defeated, in a satyrical dialogue between Mopsus and Damon L. C. 1682 Approx. 18 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 9 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2011-04 (EEBO-TCP Phase 2). A35554 Wing C80 ESTC R7580 11633450 ocm 11633450 47941

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A35554) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 47941) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 484:45) Amoret, or, Policy defeated, in a satyrical dialogue between Mopsus and Damon L. C. [6], 11 p. ; 21 cm. Printed for Daniel Brown, London : 1682. Dedication signed: L.C. Satire in verse on the Earl of Shaftesbury. Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.

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 eng Shaftesbury, Anthony Ashley Cooper, -- Earl of, 1621-1683 -- Poetry. 2020-09-21 Content of 'availability' element changed when EEBO Phase 2 texts came into the public domain 2009-08 Assigned for keying and markup 2009-09 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2009-10 Sampled and proofread 2009-10 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2010-04 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

AMORET, OR, Policy Defeated;

In a Satyrical DIALOGUE BETWEEN MOPSUS and DAMON.

Jupiter in Coelis, Caeſar regat omnia Terris; Regnet at omnipotens undique, ſolus Amor.

LONDON, Printed for Daniel Brown at the Sign of the Black Swan and Bible without Temple-Bar, 1682.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, THE Earl of KINGSTON.

AS ſome young Bee, bore by high Winds far from his proper Hive, at laſt i'th' Hollow of ſome ſtately Oak it's little Stock of Honey lays; which, when found by ſome Swain, proves a grateful Preſent to his Countrey-Love, ſo I ſeparate from the vaſt Swarm of Poets, whoſe united Buzzings ſecure themſelves, humbly offer this firſt innocent Eſſay to your Probation; which, though not its Sweetneſs, may the ſincere Reſpect I bear your Honour, make acceptable: And truſt me, Sir, the Goodneſs of a Flower is not ſo much proved by their often ſucking, as yours will be in Pardoning this firſt Attempt: And where may Services well meant, hope Forgiveneſs, if not in your Honourable Family, which, as it has always met, and deſerv'd, Honour from the Supreme Fountain of Honour; ſo thoſe who've had Dependance on You, have in their proper Stations found its kinder Influnce? And I beg your Lordſhip would permit me own my ſelf what I really am,

Your Lordſhips Moſt Humble Servant,L. C.
THE PREFACE.

AFter ſome ſmall Conſideration, I found, that Truth, as well as the Ladies, move us moſt when neareſt Naked; and this ſort of Verſe (if ever ſhe wore Poetry) has moſt become her: others being either ſo cloſe wrought, they totally hid; or fine-ſpun, they immodeſtly diſcover'd thoſe Secrets that were not to be ſeen at all times.

Which poſſibly may be the Reaſon why the moſt ingenious Satyrs have not had that happy effect that was deſigned or expected. And may be thoſe that fear her in that, may embrace her in This. And then no matter whether through the Mimickry of a Fool, or Precepts of a Wiſe Man, we ſee our Failings, ſo we do but leave them. I do not expect this will paſs for the reaſon of my Choice with all; for ſome will certainly imagine I put this taudry Crape in her hands, meerly becauſe I had no Silk in my Shop; but ſince I deſign not Cuſtom, that will not ſpoil my Trade.

I do not here, City-Friends, accuſe any of you of being Authors of a wicked Deſign againſt the State, but only fear Ignoramus may have ſo far got the upper hand of you, as to blind your Judgments, while you may be made Properties by others. Nay, and when ſome probably would have plainly told you, that while you neglected your Buſineſs at home, to mind State-Affairs abroad, your Wives took indirect means for Family-Duties, and made you London-Cuckolds. I have modeſtly withdrawn into the Country, meerly to ſave your Reputations, and the Honour of your Families.

Yet ſince I fear I'me ſtill in the ſame danger 'twixt Whig and Bromigam, as St. Paul 'twixt Phariſees and Sadduces; I think it Wiſdom to make a Party. Know then Loyaliſts, I am (as they term you) a Tory, the Son of a Tory, and for the hope of a reſtauration of their Wits, to men that are out of them, and Peace and Quietneſs to the Realm, am I this day call'd in queſtion; and unleſs you with a Band of charitable Cenſures make a Reſcue, who knows what may become of me? And I think I have partly oblig'd you thereunto, in leaving Mopſus and his Wife unreconcil'd meerly for your ſakes.

But why do I publiſh my own Impertinencies, while I endeavour to ſuppreſs others? The truth of it is, if they who underſtand no more of Government, than I of Poetry, would but lay aſide their curious Inquiſitions into, and ſaucy Reflections upon, Matters of State; they ſhould be ſure of never being troubled more with Rhime of mine: though I cut off my hand, and caſt it from me, for ſo much as once offending them. And if by any means I obtain my End, I ſhall do as much good to the Body Politick, as he to the Eccleſiaſtick, who firſt purg'd the Church from the Superſtitious Errors, it once labour'd under.
AMORET, OR, Policy Defeated; IN A SATYRICAL DIALOGUE BETWEEN MOPSUS & DAMON. Mopſus. SO; now you're ſerious, and that Pipe's laid by, Once more on you I'le Reformation try. Damon, you know I've urg'd, that of all Laws, Nature's, to us preſſes moſt home the Cauſe: But ſince to private Int'reſt you prefer The publick Good, you muſt it's Ruine ſhare. Why then ſo unconcern'd do you paſs by Of common Danger the all-moving Cry? You've heard what I e'ne tremble to repeat; Nor vvo'ud, but only to prevent your Fate: How at laſt Mart with diſcontented Look, Of Plots ſo feelingly the Stranger ſpoke, As us with Ruin's dreadful apprehenſion ſhook. Damon. I heard, and mind not, be they true or ſhamm'd, Or whether th'Authors ſhall be ſav'd or damn'd. Mopſus. Nay now you'r mad, ſince you'r the firſt that fly, When by the Winds, or a diſtemper'd Sky, You ſee ſome gloomy Tempeſt drawing nigh. And when laſt Winter's Showrs each Chanel ſwell'd, And the o'reflowing Waters drown'd the Field, Your well-propt Hut alone ſecurely ſtood Th'impetuous Rowlings o'the mighty Flood. And will you now your wonted care let fall, When the vaſt Inundation threatens all, Becauſe it threatens All. Damon. Yes; for'ts the way to ruine all, if they Whoſe 'tis to ſerve, their Ruler diſobey; And to ſave all, o're all uſurp the Sway. Mopſus. Nay call't not ſo, if a diſtemper'd Head Dull'd with Diſeaſe, or erring Notions led Forget; and th'hands with uſe grown skilful ſhou'd Supply the Stomack with it's wonted Food; Without which't can't ſubſiſt, and th' Body may In part, and not affect the Head decay. Each Member then its force may joyntly try, To ſave the whole from th' growing Malady, And ſo preſerve the Head. Damon. Hold; for what might before have paſt for fear, And the Effects of ſelf-preſerving Care: Now, guilded wi'the laſt pretext, betrays The ſubtle curling of a Serpent's ways: Which, when in ſweeteſt Flow'rs it lurking lies, It's pointed Venom leaſt ſuſpected tries. The Soul, in th' Head has always kept its Court, And there, each Senſe to Council do's reſort: Nor can you hurt the Body any where, But Sympathy affects its Agent there. Now, if the major part injoyn a Faſt, And Members moſt depending on the Taſt, Under pretence decaying ſtrength t'increaſe Shou'd apply food (the Appetite to pleaſe,) Would miniſh that, and heighten the Diſeaſe. New ways of Conſequence, becauſe untrode, Miſguide more Trav'lers than the beaten Rode. Laſt ſtorm, when you with yours ſought ſafer ground I kept my Flocks within their proper bound, And they were ſav'd, and yours diſpers'd, or drown'd. And ſince the mighty Pan did ne'r ordain A King, but aptly fitted him for Reign: With Heavens peculiar Gifts they'r always bleſt, And ours particularly 'bove the reſt. Why then diſtruſting him or heaven, ſhou'd I, Search fates decree with a too curious eye; Forſake my flock, ſince the juſt Pan will keep As well the quiet ſhepherds as the ſheep. Safely thro' lifes tempeſtuous Sea we ſteer Who bear our own, but make our ſelves no care, And motions reſt when in its proper Sphere. As Story tells, before his time, Sol's Heir, Mounting but once his Father's burning Chair Unfit for Rule; though while a Swain, none had So near reſemblance with a rural God: Periſh'd himſelf, and with miſguided flame, Endanger'd Heaven's Univerſal Frame. Yet leſt you think 'tis dull Stupidity Makes me affect this ſafe Obſcurity. Know I'm more Publick-Spirited than You, Who're cautious only of Known Plots, I, New; Which I'le diſcloſe, to ſhew how far you've err'd. That very Stranger you ſo lately heard, Eſpouſe our Cauſe with melting Words, and Eyes, That mov'd us leſs for our own Fate than his; Tries each Malitious Satyrs ſubtleſt Arts To blind our judgments, and betray our hearts. No Worms more ſecretly decay the Roſe, Or in our Flocks the hid Contagion grows; Then they, 'mongſt us ſcatter Sedition's Seeds; Strive to lay fallow, or ore-run with Weeds. (Ere ſince deſervedly they loſt,) theſe flowry meeds. Nor wants he skill to know which beſt will move caſe Us to his ends, Ambition, Fear, or Love. With which, when's vvrought diſlike t' our preſent Moulds us to any new ones, as he pleaſe. Uneven tempers by the two firſt are ſway'd, And you in both unluckily betray'd. But I untoucht reſiſted all his art, Till beauty made a paſſage to my heart. For (though unmov'd in Loyalty and Truth) He found an eaſie ſoftneſs in my Youth. And all the tender ſymptoms that do prove A frame by nature pliable to Love. He ſhew'd me then the beauteous Amoret, And who cou'd ſee and ſcape — He, whilſt I ſtood with all her charms amaz'd, And on her heavenly features only gaz'd, Whiſper'd ſoft words, ſuch words that ſhe Was pleas'd with them, and for their ſakes with me. Such words! Each Goddeſs ſtood with liſtning ear, And ſmil'd, and wiſh'd to her he'd made the pray'r. They, with th' innocence of my look and mein Mov'd her to pity, and ſay, ſhe'd be mine. Mopſus. Stay; now you talk of Love, did you not ſee my Wife, (For I'm ſo buſie with the affairs of Life) I'de e'ne forgot to ask, although but now One of our Lads juſt told me that he ſaw A ſpruce young Corſer o'th' other Town. Though 'ts out of ſeaſon give her a green Gown. Damon. O name not Women, they've ever been our curſe, And of all ills to us the fatal ſource. Through Women firſt from Paradiſe we fell, And through that Stranger, they're Hells Agents ſtill. Yours muſt be falſe, ſince mine is ſo, and ſhe Had all her Sexes truth and conſtancy. Till by thoſe arts he won her firſt to me, He taught her ſcorn this low humility. Urging her merit claim'd a Sovereign ſway, (For ſhe was alwaies Lady o'th' May.) And ſince heaven had her frame 'bove ours refin'd, For ſomewhat greater than a Swain't deſign'd. Then tamper'd thus with me, now times are fit For change, ſide thou with me, I'll make thee Great. You ſay, you love; and greatneſs will regain Your Amoret, and firmly both maintain. 'Twas well I lov'd (for the well baited hook My ſinking virtue deſperately ſhook) Till that, with juſt diſdain my heart did fire, (For that, where birth fails, can great Souls inſpire.) What though her ſhape excells all Womankind, My admiration's not to that confin'd. I lov'd her virtue, and when that decays, Fancy may live, but real paſſion dies. Tell her, ſaid I, I here her loſs will mourn. And uſe baſe means, (though to injoy her,) ſcorn. 'Tis juſt that You, who your Allegiance looſe, Shou'd have't repaid by Wives, in broken Vows. But why muſt I be loſt, ſince none did more Then Damon, all you Deities, adore. No Shepherd did more holy Off'rings bring, Lambs, fruit, freſh waters o'th' living Spring, Or did in ſweeter Notes your praiſes ſing. Not even they whoſe virtue grew ſo high, As here on earth to ſhare your Deity. 'Twas well-plac'd Love rais'd moſt of you to Gods, And I in Amoret had ſure the Odds. O no! though Beauty finely guild the Face 'Tis Golden Conſtancy that makes the Price; And ſuch were they, ſo to their Lovers true, That had you then been Gods, they had reſiſted you. 'Twas ſuch I dreamt my Amoret wou'd prove; And ſuch ſhe was, when led by artleſs Love. You may remember; how each Sunny day, (Wi'th' ſame Innocence thoſe Young Lambs play) In every pleaſant Shade inclaſp'd we lay, And in ſoft breathings ſigh'd our Souls away. No damask roſe ſo purely bluſh'd, as ſhe, Such was the force of native modeſty. Whilſt in her boſom wantonly I threw, Pinks, Vi'lets, Jes'min, (ſweeteſt Flowers that grew) Yet ſweeter there, then in May's pearly dew. I carv'd her name on every growing bark; With that I did my wandring younlings mark. There were unfens'd lay open to the Strand, Her name preſcrib'd the limits o'my Land. I found no Bird that nature fram'd for ſpeech, But did ther name in various Sonets teach. That made the ſweeteſt muſick o'the wood, And Eccho, that ſo plainly underſtood: That 'twou'd of't ſelf in whiſtling Winds repeat, And in juſt motions neighb'ring Waters beat. But now, bleak Winds blaſt all the tender Sprouts, And quaking Sheep peirce thro their tater'd Coats. No Birds are heard here, but the gaſtly Owl Shrieking her baleful note; Wolves howl, And ſtormy Waves in foaming Billows roul: You ſee I'm not the merry Swain I was But here forlorn, ſtretch'd on this witherd graſs, In doleful ſighs the tedious hours paſs. She heard (for Cupid ſo deſign'd) while ſhe Beneath a Wilows ſhady Covert lay. And whether ſhame made her ſo long forbear, Or curioſity of hearing more. Who knows? at laſt, ſhe, leſt he farther griev'd, His drooping Spirits in ſuch words reviv'd. I, thro another, firſt to you did yield: But's your own merit now has won the field, I heard Maids always did their Lovers try, Ere they reſign'd themſelves, and liberty. But leſt, thro ill conduct in the ſearch, there lie Some ſeeming cauſe for future jealouſie. Know that I ſtood by all their Arts unmov'd, And moſt, then when I ſeem'd to ſcorn, my Damon lov'd. And, thus, their eaſe and wealth I'le quit, for you; And that's a pow'rful argument I'm true. Come, ſince the night grows on, let's homeward go, And love, when there, will prompt us what to do. He, ſnatch'd his Pipe, and as they went, he play'd Such tender notes, as ſooth'd the yielding Maid, And ſhe to work his growing paſſion high, Sung to his Pipe, in ſweeteſt harmony, Theſe following Words, Since Lov's the buſineſs of our Sex, 'Ts your's to keep us True. Pan Shepherds only made for us, And us, rewards to you. If we Love on; then cal's not falſe, Tho it ſhould prove elſewhere. 'Tis you are falſe, in leaving yours, We move but in our Sphere. So Planets, tho they're wandring Stars, (And yo've oft cal'd me ſo;) We've found in their unequal ways A juſt proportion go. Mopſus the while, wi'th' ſame grizly Beard, That made him once, as Policitian, fear'd; And help of horns ſneakt off wi'th' next Herd. FINIS.