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DRINK to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not ask for wine.
Doth ask a drink divine,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee,
It could not withered be;
And sent’st it back to me;
Not of itself, but thee.
THE SWEET NEGLECT.
STILL to be neat, still to be drest,
Give me a look, give me a face,
HUE AND CRY AFTER CUPID.
Beauties, have'ye seen a toy,
She that will but now discover
Marks he hath about him plenty,
Wings he hath, which though ye clip,
He doth bear a golden bow,
Still the fairest are his fuel,
Trust him not; his words, though sweet,
Idle minutes are his reign,
If by these ye please to know him,
Bishop of Exeter, was born in 1574, and died in retirement,
in 1650. The various literary labours of his long life, and the persecutions to which he was exposed in his old age, are recited in every dictionary of Biography. His only poetical compositions, entitled “ Virgidemiarum, Satires in " six books, 1597," are, from their subject, by no means suited to the present publication ; but it is hoped that the reader will excuse the insertion of one specimen from a work which must, even now, be considered as a model of elegance. The following satire is a ridicule on the fashion of attempting to subject our language to the rules of Greek and Latin prosody, a fashion encouraged by Sir Philip Sidney and others, and not discouraged by Spenser.
SATIRE VI, B. I.
Another scorns the home-spun thread of rhymes, Match'd with the lofty feet of elder times. Give me the number'd verse that Virgil sung, And Virgil's self shall speak the English tongue; Manhood and Garboiles shall he chaunt with changed
feet, And headstrong dactyls making musick meet.