The Perfume

Once, and but once found in thy company,All thy suppos'd escapes are laid on mee;And as a thiefe at barre, is question'd thereBy all the men, that have beene rob'd that yeare,So am I, (by this traiterous meanes surpriz'd)By thy Hydroptique father catechiz'd.Though he had wont to search with glazed eyes,As though he came to kill a Cockatrice,Though hee hath oft sworne, that hee would removeThy beauties beautie, and food of our love,Hope of his goods, if I with thee were seene,Yet close and secret, as our soules, we'have beene.Though thy immortall mother which doth lyeStill buried in her bed, yet will not dye,Takes this advantage to sleepe out day-light,And watch thy entries, and returnes all night,And, when she takes thy hand, and would seeme kind,Doth search what rings, and armelets she can finde,And kissing notes the colour of thy face,And fearing least thou'art swolne, doth thee embrace;To trie if thou long, doth name strange meates,And notes thy palenesse, blushing, sighs, and sweats;And politiquely will to thee confesseThe sinnes of her owne youths ranke lustinesse;Yet love these Sorceries did remove, and moveThee to gull thine owne mother for my love.Thy little brethren, which like Faiery SprightsOft skipt into our chamber, those sweet nights,And kist, and ingled on thy fathers knee,Were brib'd next day, to tell what they did see:The grim eight-foot-high iron-bound serving-man,That oft names God in oathes, and onely than,He that to barre the first gate, doth as wideAs the great Rhodian Colossus stride,Which, if in hell no other paines there were,Makes mee feare hell, because he must be there:Though by thy father he were hir'd to this,Could never witnesse any touch or kisse.But Oh, too common ill, I brought with meeThat, which betray'd mee to my enemie:A loud perfume, which at my entrance cryedEven at thy fathers nose, so were wee spied.When, like a tyran King, that in his bedSmelt gunpowder, the pale wretch shivered.Had it beene some bad smell, he would have thoughtThat his owne feet, or breath, that smell had wrought.But as wee in our Ile emprisoned,Where cattell onely,'and diverse dogs are bred,The pretious Vnicornes, strange monsters call,So thought he good, strange, that had none at all.I taught my silkes, their whistling to forbeare,Even my opprest shoes, dumbe and speechlesse were,Onely, thou bitter sweet, whom I had laidNext mee, mee traiterously hast betraid,And unsuspected hast invisiblyAt once fled unto him, and staid with mee.Base excrement of earth, which dost confoundSense, from distinguishing the sicke from sound;By thee the seely Amorous sucks his deathBy drawing in a leprous harlots breath;By thee, the greatest staine to mans estateFalls on us, to be call'd effeminate;Though you be much lov'd in the Princes hall,There, things that seeme, exceed substantiall;Gods, when yee fum'd on altars, were pleas'd wellBecause you'were burnt, not that they lik'd your smell;You'are loathsome all, being taken simply alone,Shall wee love ill things joyn'd, and hate each one?If you were good, your good doth soone decay;And you are rare, that takes the good away.All my perfumes, I give most willinglyTo'embalme thy fathers corse; What? will hee die?