Thomas D'Urfey

or Tom D'Urfey, as he was more generally known, was descended from a family of French Huguenot refugees, and born at Exeter. The date is variously given as 1628, 1630, 1649, 1650, and 1653. The probabilities are in favour of the last date being the correct one. He was the author of many comedies and a large body of songs and party lyrics. He was a large contributor to the miscellany called Laugh and be Fat, or Pills to Purge Melancholy. He died in 1723.

Still Water

DAMON, let a friend advise ye,
Follow Clores though she flies ye,
Though her tongue your suit is slighting,
Her kind eyes you'll find inviting :
Woman's rage, like shallow water,

Does but show their hurtless nature;

When the stream seems rough and frowning,

There is still least fear of drowning.

Let me tell the adventurous stranger,

In our calmness lies our danger;

Like a river's silent running,

Stillness shows our depth and cunning:

She that rails ye into trembling

Only shows her fine dissembling;

But the fawner, to abuse ye,

Thinks ye fools, and so will use ye.

Charles Cotton

was the author of a supplement to Walton's Complete Angler, and by this work his name has almost certainly achieved immortality. He was the author of a volume of poems, and translated the Horace of Corneille, and the Essays of Montaigne. He was born in 1630 and died in 1687. The rondeau appended is not the usual passionless vein of Charles Cotton. His second wife was Mary, Countess Dowager of Ardglass, the widow of Lord Cornwall. She had a

jointure of £1500 a year, made secure upon her
from the poet's financial imprudence.

Thou Fool

THOU fool! if madness be so rife
That, spite of wit, thou'lt have a wife,
I'll tell thee what thou must expect,—
After the honey-moon, neglect,
All the sad days of thy whole life!

To that a world of woe and strife,
Which is of marriage the effect;
And thou thy own woe's architect,
Thou fool!

Thou'lt nothing find but disrespect,
Ill words i' th' scolding dialect,

For she'll all tabor be or fife.

Then prithee go and whet thy knife,
And from this fate thyself protect,

Thou fool!

John Dryden

was born in Northamptonshire in 1631, and was educated at Westminster and Cambridge. He settled in London in 1657, and acted for a while as secretary to a relation who was a member of Cromwell's Council. He mourned the death of the Protector, and greeted the accession of Charles II. He was the author of many plays, written at the suggestion of the King, but some of his best work was produced in a succeeding reign, when he was no longer the recipient of royal bounty. To his later years belong his translation of Virgil and his Fables. The commanding genius of Dryden does not come out fully in his songs, and it seems that whilst entertaining the poorest opinion of his audience he yet wrote for their pleasure. He died in 1700.

Concealed Love

I FEED a flame within, which so torments me,
That it both pains my heart and yet contents me :
'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it,
That I had rather die, than once remove it.

Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it;
My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it.
Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses,
But they fall silently, like dew on roses.

Thus, to prevent my love from being cruel,
My heart's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel:

John Dryden

And while I suffer this to give him quiet,
My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.

On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me ; While I conceal my love no frown can fright me : To be more happy, I dare not aspire ;

Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.

To Matilda on the Anniversary of our Marriage

WHEN first, in all thy youthful charms,
And dazzling beauty's pride,
Heightened by infant Love's alarms

The nuptial knot was tied,
Which gave thee to my longing arms
A blooming, blushing bride,--

Entranced in Hymen's blissful bowers,
We hail'd each rising sun,

While wing'd with joys the rosy hours
In ecstasy flew on;

And still we blest the heavenly powers,
Who join'd our hearts in one.

Now, as with fairy-footed tread,
Time steals our years away,

Thy mildly beaming virtues spread
Soft influence o'er life's way;
Insuring to our peaceful shed
Love's bliss without decay.

A Pair well matched

FAIR Iris I love, and hourly I die,
But not for a lip, nor a languishing eye;
'She's fickle and false, and there we agree,
For I am as false and as fickle as she ;
We neither believe what either can say,
And neither believing, we neither betray.

'Tis civil to swear, and to say things of course; We mean not the taking for better or worse: (When

present we love; and when absent agree; I think not of Iris, nor Iris of me :

The legend of Love no couple can find,

So easy to part, or so equally join'd.

The Fair Stranger

HAPPY and free, securely blest,
No beauty could disturb my rest;
My amorous heart was in despair
To find a new victorious fair.