All the day I merry make, Bound to none my fortunes be; Him I love that loveth me; For the rest a pin I care not. You are sad when others chafe, And grow merry as they laugh! * WANTONS! 'tis not your sweet eyings, Forced passions, feigned dyings, Gesture's temptings, tear's beguilings, Dancings, singings, kissings, smilings, Nor those painted sweets, with which You unwary men bewitch, (All united, nor asunder) That can compass such a wonder, Where her moving virtues fails. Beauties! 'tis not all those features Placed in the fairest creatures, Though their best they should discover, 'Tis not those soft snowy breasts, Nor those eyes, whence beauty's lances That can liking gain, where she Will the best-beloved be. For, should those, who think they may Draw love from her away, my Bring forth all their female graces, Practice all the art they may, Weep, or sing, or kiss, or pray; One poor thought of her would arm me Those half-beauties only win Fools to let affection in. Vulgar wits, from reason shaken, Phil'arete to his Mistress. [From 18 stanzas.] HAIL, thou fairest of all creatures Upon whom the sun doth shine! Model of all rarest features, And perfections most divine! Thrice, all hail! and blessed be Those that love and honour thee. Though a stranger to the Muses, * Let them thereby take direction This thy picture therefore show I, I am no Italian lover, That will mew thee in a jail; But thy beauty I discover, English-like, without a veil. If thou may'st be won away, Win and wear thee he that may. Yet in this thou may'st believe me, (So indifferent though I seem) Death with tortures would not grieve me For, if VIRTUE me forsake, Then, as I, on thee relying, VOL. III. G So, by my defects supplying, SONG. [From 12 stanzas.] SAD eyes, what do you ail, To be thus ill disposed? Why doth your sleeping fail, Now all men's else are closed? Was't I, that ne'er did bow In any servile duty, And will you make me now What hopes have I that she Will hold her favours ever, When so few women be That constant can perséver? Whate'er she do protest, When Fortunes do deceive me, Then she, with all the rest, I fear, alas! will leave me. * |