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With that I stopt. Said Love, “ These be, “ Fond man, resemblances of thee; “ And, as these flowers, thy joys shall die, “ E'en in the twinkling of an eye;

“ And all thy hopes of her shall wither “ Like these short sweets thus knit together."



Good Counsel to a young Maid.
Gaze not on thy beauty's pride,
Tender maid, in the false tide
That from lovers' eyes doth slide!

Let thy faithful chrystal show
How thy colours come and go:
Beauty takes a foil from wo.

Love, that in those smooth streams lies,
Under Pity's fair disguise,
Will thy melting heart surprize.

Nets, of passion's finest thread,
Snaring poems, will be spread,
All to catch thy maidenhead.

Then, beware! for, those that cure
Love's disease themselves endure
For reward a calenture.

Rather let the lover pine,
Than his pale cheek should assign
A perpetual blush to thine.

Boldness in love.
MARK how the bashful Morn in vain

Courts the amorous Marigold
With sighing blasts and weeping rain,

Yet she refuses to unfold.
But, when the planet of the day
Approacheth with his powerful ray,
Then she spreads, then she receives
His warmer beams into her virgin leaves.

So shalt thou thrive in love, fond boy!

If thy tears and sighs discover Thy grief, thou never shalt enjoy

The just reward of a bold lover. But, when with moving accents thou Shalt constant faith and service vow, Thy Celia shall receive those charms With open ears, and with unfolded arms.

Ingrateful Beauty threatened.

KNOW, Celia (since thou art so proud);

"Twas I that gave thee thy renown! Thou hadst in the forgotten crowd

Of common beauties liv'd unknown, Had not my verse exhald thy name, And with it imp’d the wings of Fame.

That killing power is none of thine;

I gave it to thy voice and eyes ; Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine ;

Thou art my star, shin’st in my skies : Then dart not from thy borrow'd sphere Lightning on him that fix'd thee there.

Tempt me with such affrights no more,

Lest what I made I uncreate ! Let fools thy mystic forms adore ;

I'll know thee in thy mortal state. Wise poets, that wrapp'd Truth in tales, Knew her themselves through all her veils. SONG. To one, who, when I praised my Mistress' beauty,

said I was blind. Wonder not though I am blind,

For you must be
Dark in your eyes, or in your mind,

If, when you see
Her face, you prove not Blind, like me!
If the powerful beams that fly

From her eye, .
And those amorous sweets that lie
Scatter'd in each neighbouring part,
Find a passage to your heart;
Then, you'll confess your mortal sight
Too weak for such a glorious light.
For, if her graces you discover,
You grow, like me, a dazzled lover :
But, if those beauties you not spy,
Then are you blinder far than I.


Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For, in your beauty's orient deep
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

Ask me no more whither do stray
The golden atoms of the day;
For, in pure love, heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.

Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past ;
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note.

Ask me no more where those stars light:
That downwards fall in dead of night;
For in your eyes they sit, and there
Fixed become as in their sphere.

Ask me no more if east or west
The Phænix builds her spicy nest;
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.

SON G. *

Conquest by flight.
LADIES, fly from Love's smooth tale!
Oaths steep'd in tears do oft prevail ;

* The second stanza of this song is also to be found in

“ Festum Voluptatis, or the Banquet of Pleasure," by S[amuel] P[ecke], 1639, 40.

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