["Epicone; or, The Silent Woman." 1609.] SONG. Still to be neat, still to be dressed, Though art's hid causes are not found, Give me a look, give me a face, They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. ["The Forest." 1616.] TO CELIA. Come, my Celia, let us prove, 'Tis no sin love's fruit to steal, But the sweet theft to reveal: To be taken, to be seen, These have crimes accounted been. TO THE SAME. Kiss me, sweet: the wary lover Or the drops in silver Thames, Or the stars that gild his streams, In the silent summers-nights, When youths ply their stolen delights; How to tell 'em as they flow, And the envious, when they find ΤΟ CELIA. Drink to me only with thine eyes, Or leave a kiss but in the cup, |