Charles Cotton

Charles Cotton (28 April 1630 – 16 February 1687) was an English poet and writer, best known for translating the work of Michel de Montaigne from French, for his contributions to The Compleat Angler, and for the influential The Compleat Gamester attributed to him.

• Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle powers,
     We, who improve his golden hours,
  By sweet experience know
     That marriage, rightly understood,
  Gives to the tender and the good
     A paradise below.
  • The Fire-side, st. 5. Dodsley's Collection (1755) vol. 4

• To-morrow, didst thou say?
  Methought I heard Horatio say, to-morrow.
  Go to — I will not hear of it — to-morrow!
  ’Tis a sharper that stakes his penury
  Against thy plenty — who takes thy ready cash,
  And pays thee naught but wishes, hopes, and promises,
  The currency of idiots. Injurious bankrupt,
  That gulls the easy creditor! to-morrow!
  It is a period nowhere to be found
  In all the hoary registers of time,
  Unless perchance in the fool’s calendar.
  Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society
  With those that own it. No, my Horatio,
  ’Tis fancy’s child, and folly is its father:
  Wrought on such stuff as dreams are; and baseless
  As the fantastic visions of the evening.
  • To-morrow, l. 1. Dodsley's Collection (1755) vol. 4

•              Arrest the present moments;
  For be assur'd they are all arrant tell-tales;
  And though their flight be silent, and their path trackless
  As the wing'd couriers of the air,
  They post to heaven, and there record their folly —
  Because, tho' station'd on the important watch,
  Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentinel,
  Didst let them pass unnotic'd, unimprov'd.
  And know, for that thou slumber'st on the guard,
  Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar
  For every fugitive: and when thou thus
  Shalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal
  Of hood-wink'd justice, who shall tell thy audit?
  Then stay the present instant, dear Horatio,
  Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings;
  'Tis of more worth than kingdoms! far more precious
  Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountain.
  Oh! let it not elude thy grasp, but, like
  The good old patriarch upon record,
  Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee.
  • To-morrow, l. 17. Dodsley's Collection (1755) vol. 4

• My state is more advanc’d than when
     I first attempted thee;
  I su’d to be a Servant then,
     But now to be made free.
  • To Cœlia. Ode, st. 1

• My infant love could humbly wait,
     When young it scarce knew how
  To plead; but grown to Man's estate,
     He is impatient now.
  • To Cœlia. Ode, st. 3

• ... She cries I doe not love her,
     And tells me of her Honor;
  Then have I no way to disprove her,
  And my true passion to discover,
     But streight to fall upon her.
  • Ode ("Was ever man of Nature’s framing") st. 3

• No, hang me if I ever marry,
     Till Womankind grow stancher,
  I do delight delights to vary,
  And love not in one Hulk to tarry,
     But only Trim and Launch her.
  • Ode ("Was ever man of Nature’s framing") st. 5

• Woman, man’s greatest woe, or bliss,
     Does ofter far, than serve, enslave,
  And with the Magick of a Kiss,
     Destroys whom she was made to save.
  • Contentation, st. 14

• That man is happy in his share,
     Who is warm clad, and cleanly fed,
  Whose Necessaries bound his Care,
     And honest Labour makes his Bed.
  • Contentation, st. 24

• The Shadows now so long do grow,
  That Brambles like tall Cedars show,
  Mole-hills seem Mountains, and the Ant
  Appears a monstrous Elephant.
  • Evening Quatrains, st. 3