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No intercourse, or trade of sense or soul,
Host. But is your name Love-ill, sir, or Love-well ?
Loo. I do not know 't myself,
The hereditary passion of our house,
Lov. I have sent her toys, verses, and anagrams,
Host. This was a pretty riddling way of wooing !
Loo. I oft have been, too, in her company,
Host. Could you blame her, sir,
Lov. O, but I loved her the more; and she might read it Best in my silence, had she been
Host. As melancholic As you are. Pray you, why would you stand mute, sir ?
Loo. O thereon hangs a history, mine host. Did you e'er know or hear of the Lord Beaufort,
Who served so bravely in France ? I was his page,
And debt professed, I have made a self-decree,
(From "Every Man in his Humor."] , · ADVICE TO A RECKLESS YOUTH. Knowell. What would I have you do? I'll tell you, kinsman: Learn to be wise, and practise how to thrive – That would I have you do ; and not to spend Your coin on every bauble that you fancy, Or every foolish brain that humors you. , I would not have you to invade each place, Nor thrust yourself on all societies, Till men's affections, or your own desert, Should worthily invite you to your rank. He that is so respectless in his courses, Oft sells his reputation at cheap market; Nor would I you should melt away yourself In flashing bravery, lest, while you affect To make a blaze of gentry to the world, A little puff of scorn extinguish it, And you be left, like an unsavory snuff, Whose property is only to offend. I'd ha' you sober, and contain yourself ; Not that your sail be bigger than your boat; But moderate in your expenses now, at first, As you may keep the same proportion still. Nor stand so much on your gentility, , Which is an airy and mere borrowed thing, From dead men's dust and bones ; and none of yours, Except you make, or hold it.
JOSEPH HALL. 1574- 1656. Joseph Hall, Bishop of Norwich, was the author of many controversial tracts, and published a variety of sermons, meditations, &c. “ From the pithy and sententious quality of his style, he has been called the English Seneca ; many parts of his prose writings have the thought, feeling, and melody, of the finest poetry.” He was also somewhat distinguished as a poet, and was “ the first who wrote satirical verse with any degree of elegance." The most popular of his works is that entitled Occasional Meditations.
[From " Occasional Meditations."] UPON OCCASION OF A RED-BREAST COMING INTO HIS
CHAMBER. Pretty bird, how cheerfully dost thou sit and sing; and yet knowest not where thou art, nor where thou shalt make thy next meal, and at night must shroud thyself in a bush for lodging ! What a shame is it for me, that see before me so liberal provisions of my God, and find myself sit warm under my own roof, yet am ready to droop under a distrustful and unthankful dulness! Had I so little certainty of my harbor and purveyance, how heartless should I be, how careful - how little list should I have to make music to thee or myself! Surely, thou comest not hither without a providence. God sent thee, not so much to delight, as to shame me, but all in a conviction of my sullen unbelief, who, under more apparent means, am less cheerful and confident; reason and faith have not done so much in me, as in thee mere instinct of nature; want of foresight makes thee more merry, if not more happy, here, than the foresight of better things maketh me.
O God, thy providence is not impaired by those powers thou hast given me above these brute things; let not my greater helps hinder me from a holy security, and comfortable reliance on thee.
(From “ Occasional Meditations."] UPON HEARING OF MUSIC BY NIGHT. How sweetly doth this music sound, in this dead season! In the day-time, it would not, it could not, so much affect the ear. All harmonious sounds are advanced by a silent darkness. Thus it is with the glad tidings of salvation; the Gospel never sounds so sweet as in the night of preservation, or of our own private affliction;— It is ever the same — the difference is in our own disposition to receive it. O God, whose praise it is to give songs in the night, make my prosperity conscionable, and my crosses cheerful.
RICHARD BARNFIELD. Author of several poetical volumes, published between 1594 and 1598.
ADDRESS TO THE NIGHTINGALE.
As it fell upon a day,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Whilst, as fickle fortune smiled,
Every one that flatters thee
Words are easy, like the wind;