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THE NYMPH's REPLY TO THE PASSIONATE
that the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
But time drives flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb,
And all complain of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter's reckoning yield;
A honey tongue-a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cup, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw, and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs;
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.
But could youth last and love still breed,
Had joys no date-nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.
, the body's guest,
Upon a thankless errand,
Fear not to touch the best,
The truth shall be thy warrant;
Go, since I needs must die,
And give the world the lie.
Go, tell the court it glows,
And shines like rotten wood,
Go, tell the church it shows
What's good, and doth no good ;
If church and court reply,
Then give them both the lie.
Tell potentates, they live
Acting by others actions,
Not lov'd unless they give,
Not strong but by their factions.
If potentates reply,
Give potentates the lie.
Tell men of high condition,
That rule affairs of state,
Their purpose ambition,
Their practice only hate.
And if they once reply,
Then give them all the lie.
Tell them that brave it most,
They beg for more by spending,
Who in their greatest cost,
Seek nothing but commending,
And if they make reply,
Spare not to give the lie.
Tell zeal it lacks devotion,
Tell love it is but last, Tell time it is but motion, Tell flesh it is but dust.
And wish them not reply,
For thou must give the lie. Tell age it daily wasteth,
Tell honour how it alters, Tell beauty how she blasteth, Tell favour how she falters.
And as they shall reply
Give each of them the lie. Tell wit how much it wrangles
In tickle points of niceness; Tell wisdom she entangles Herself in over wiseness. And if they do reply,
Straight give them both the lie. Tell physic of her boldness,
Tell skill it is pretension, Tell charity of coldness, Tell law it is contention.
And as they yield reply,
So give them still the lie.
Tell fortune of her blindness,
Tell nature of decay,
Tell friendship of unkindness,
Tell justice of delay.
And if they dare reply,
Then give them all the lie. Tell arts they have no soundness,
But vary by esteeming,
Tell schools they want profoundness,
And stand too much on seeming.
If arts and schools reply,
Give arts and schools the lie.
Tell faith it's Aed the city, Val
Tell how the country erreth, Tell manhood shakes off pitys o Tell virtue least preferrethi of
And if they do reply, 351188
Spare not to give the lice : 1792 i
So when thou hast;'as
Commanded thee, done blabbing;
Although, to give the
Deserves no less than stabbing;
Yet stab at thee who will! TATIM
No stab the soul can kill.
THE SILENT LOVER.
are liken'd best to floods and streams;
The shallow, murmur,
but the deep are dumb : So, when affections discourse, it seems
The bottom is but shallow whence they come.
They that are rich in words must needs discover,
They are but poor in that which makes a lover. i
Wrong not, sweet mistress of my heart, .
The merit of true passion,
With thinking that he feels no smart
Who sues for no compassion,
Since if my plaints were not t’approve
The conquest of thy beauty,
It comes not from defect of love,
But fear t exceed my duty.
For, knowing that I sue to serve,
A saint of such perfection,"
As all desire, but none deserve
A place in her affection,
I rather choose to want relief,
Than venture the revealing:
Where glory recommends the grief,
Despair disdains the healing... ")*81** *
Where fragranteeds sweetest gales.
Silence in love betrays more woe
Than words, though ne'er so witty ;
A beggar that is dumb, you know,
May challenge double pity.
Then wrong not, dearest to my heart,
My love for secret passion;
He smarteth most who bides his smart,
And sues for no compassion.
IMITATION OF MARLOW.
COME live with me, and be my dear,
And we will revet all the year,
on hills and dales,
air There shall you have the beauteous pine, : The cedar and the spreading vine,
And all the woods to be a skreen,
Lest Phebus kiss my summer's greed.
The seat at your disport shall be,
Over some river, in a tree.
Where silver sands, and pebbles, sing
Eternal ditties with the spring.
There shall you see the nymphs at play,
And how the gatyrs spend the day;
The fishes gliding on the sands,
Offering their bellies to your hands.
The birds with heavenly-tuned throats,
Possess wood's echo with sweet notes ;
Which to your senses will impart
A music to inflame the heart.
Upon the bare and leafless oak,
The ring-dove's wooings will provoke
A colder blood than you possess,
To play with me, and do no less.