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Methinks I hear, methinks I see,
Sweet music, wondrous mielody,
Towns, places, and cities fine,
Here now, then there, the world is mines
Rare beauties, gallant ladies shine,
Whate'er is lovely or divine.

All other joys to this are folly,
None so sweet as melancholy.

Methinks I hear, methinks I see
Ghosts, goblins, fiends :—my phantasie
Presents a thousand ugly shapes,
Headless bears, black men,


Doleful outcries, fearful sights,
My sad and dismal soul affrights.

All my griefs to this are jolly,
None so damn'd as melancholy.

Methinks I court, methinks I kiss,
Methinks I now embrace my miss ;
O blessed days, O sweet content,
In Paradise


time is spent! Such thought may still my fancy move, So

may I ever be in love!
All my joys to this are folly,
Nought so sweet as melancholy.

When I recount love's many frights,
My sighs and tears, my waking nights,
My jealous fits; O mine hard fate
I now repent, but 'tis too late,
No torment is so bad as love,
So bitter to my soul can prove.

All my griefs to this are jolly,
Nought so harsh as melancholy.

Friends and companions, get you gone, 'Tis my

desire to be alone; Ne'er well, but when my thoughts and I Do domineer in privacy. No gem, no treasure like to this, 'Tis my delight, my crown, my bliss.

All my joys to this are folly,
Nought so sweet as melancholy.

'Tis my sole plague to be alone,
I am a beast, a monster grown,
I will no light nor company,
I find it now my misery.
The scene is turn’d, my joys are gone,
Fear, discontent, and sorrows come.

All my griefs to this are jolly,
Nought so fierce as melancholy

I'll not change life with any king,
I ravish'd am ! can the world bring
More joy, than still to laugh and smile,
In pleasant toys time to beguile?
Do not, O do not trouble me,
So sweet content I feel and see.

All my joys to this are folly,
None so divine as melancholy.

I'll change my state with any wretch
Thou canst from jail or dunghill fetch.
My pain past cure; another hell;
I cannot in this torment dwell;
Now, desperate, I hate my life:
Lend me a halter or a knife.

All my griefs to this are jolly,
Nought so damn’d as melancholy.


Son of the famous secretary of state, published a poetical

miscellany, in 1602, under the title of “ Davison's Poems, “ or a Poetical Rhapsody,” containing small pieces by the author himself, by his brother Walter, by a friend whom he calls Anomos, by Sir John Davis, the Countess of Pem. broke, Sir P. Sidney, Dr. Campion, &c. A second edition appeared in 1608, a third in 1611, and a fourth in 1621.

When I to you of all my woes complain,

Which you make me endure without release, With scornful smiles you answer me again,

That lovers true must bear, and hold their peace, Dear, I will bear, and hold my peace, if you Will hold your peace, and bear what I shall do.



WHERE wit is over-ruled by will,

And will is led by fond desire, There reason were as good be still,

As speaking, kindle greater fire. For where desire doth bear the sway, The heart must rule, the head obey.

What boots the cunning pilot's skill,

To tell which way to shape the course, When he that steers will have his will,

And drive them where he list perforce? So reason shews the truth in vain Where fond desire as king doth reign

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