Upon My Lady Carlisle’s Walking in Hampton Court Garden

DIALOGUE T.C. J.S. Thom. Didst thou not find the place inspired, And flowers, as if they had desired No other sun, start from their beds, And for a sight steal out their heads? Heardst thou not music when she talked? And didst not find that as she walked She threw rare perfumes all about, Such as bean-blossoms newly out, Or chafèd spices give?— J.S. I must confess those perfumes, Tom, I did not smell; nor found that from Her passing by ought sprung up new. The flowers had all their birth from you; For I passed o’er the self-same walk And did not find one single stalk Of anything that was to bring This unknown after-after-spring. Thom. Dull and insensible, couldst see A thing so near a deity Move up and down, and feel no change? J.S. None, and so great, were alike strange; I had my thoughts, but not your way. All are not born, sir, to the bay. Alas! Tom, I am flesh and blood, And was consulting how I could In spite of masks and hoods descry The parts denied unto the eye. I was undoing all she wore, And had she walked but one turn more, Eve in her first state had not been More naked or more plainly seen. Thom. ’Twas well for thee she left the place; There is great danger in that face. But hadst thou viewed her leg and thigh, And upon that discovery Searched after parts that are more dear (As fancy seldom stops so near), No time or age had ever seen So lost a thing as thou hadst been.