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| Hot was the day; she hotter that did look Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,

For his approach, that often there had been. 'Gainst whom the world could not hold argument,

Anon be comes, and throws his mantle by,

And stood stark naked on the brook's green brinu; Persuade my heart to this false perjury?

The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye,
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishinent.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,

Yet not so wistly as this queen on him :
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee :

He, spying her, bouncū in, whereas he stood;

O Jove, quoth she, why was not I a flood ?
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me.
My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is ;
Then, thou fair sun, that on this earth doth shine, Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle;
Exhale this vapour vow; in thee it is :

Mild as a dove. but neither true nor trusty;
If broken, then it is no fault of mine.

Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle ; If by me broke, what fool is not so wise

Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty : To lose an oath, to win a paradise ? *

A lily pale, with damask die to grace her,

None fairer, nor none falser to deface ber.

Her lips to mine how often hath she joind, Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook,

Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing! With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green,

How many tales to please me hath she coin'd, Did court the lad with many a lovely look,

Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing! Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen. Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings, She told him stories to delight his ear ;

Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings She show'd him favours to allure his eye; To win his heart, she touch'd him here and there : She burn'd with love, as straw with fire flameth, Touches so soft still conquer chastity.

She burn'd out love, as soon as straw out bumeth; But whether unripe years did want conceit,

She fram'd the love, and yet she foild the framing, Or he refus'u to take her figur'd profler,

She hade love last, and yet she fell a turning. The tender nibbler would not touch the bait,

Was this a lover, or a lecher whether
But smile and jest at every gentle ofler :

Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.
Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and toward ;
He rose and ran away; ah, fool too froward !

If music and sweet poetry agree,

As they must needs, the sister and the brother, If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me, O never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd : Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other. Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll constant prove; Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers Upon the lute doth ravish human sense ; bow'd.

Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such, Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, As, passing all conceit, needs no defence. Where all those pleasures live that art can comprehend. | Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; That Phæbus' lute, the queen of music, makes; Well learned is that tongue that well can thee com- And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd,

Whenas himself to singing he betakes. All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; One god is god of both, as poets feign; Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire : One knight loves both, and both in thee remain. Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his dreadful

thunder, Which (not to anger bent) is music and sweet fire.

Fair was the morn, when the fair queen of love, Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong, To sing the heavens' praise with such an earthly Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dore, tongue.b

For Adon's sake, a youngster proud and wild ;

Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill: Scarce had the sin dried up the dewy mom,

Anon Adonis comes with horn and bounds; And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade,

She, silly queen, with more than love's good will, When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,

Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds: A longing tarriance for Adonis made,

Once, quoth she, did I see a fair sweet youth Under an osier growing by a brook,

Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a buar. brook where Adon used to cool his spleen,

Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth!

See in my thigli, quoth she, here was the sore. * The foregoing Sonnet appears, with some variations, in She showed hers; he saw more wounds than me • Lore's Labour's Lost,' the first edition of which was printed

And blushing tled, and left her all alone in 1598.

b This Sonnet also occurs in ‘Love's Labour's Lost,' in which Copy there are variations in several lines.

! The second line is lost.




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Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck’d, soon vaded,"
Pluck'd in the bud, and vaded in the spring!
Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely shaded !
Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting!

Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree,

And falls, through wind, before the fall should be. I

weep for thee, and yet no cause I have;
For why? thou left'st me nothing in thy will.
And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave;
For why? I craved nothing of thee still :

O yes, dear iriend, I pardon crave of thee ;
Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good,
A shining gloss, that vaileth suddenly;
A flower that dies, when first it ’gins to bud;
A brittle glass, that 's broken presently :

A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,

Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour. And as goods lost are seld or never found, As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh, As flowers dead lie witherd on the ground, As broken glass no cement can redress,".

So beauty, blemishd once, for ever 's lost, In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.

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Venus, with Adonis o sitting by her,
Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him :
She told the youngling how god Mars did try her,
And as he fell to her, she fell to him.
Even thus, quoth she, the warlike god embrac'd me;
And then she clipp d Adonis in her arms :
Even thus, quoth she, the warlike god unlac'd me:
As if the boy should use like loving charms.
Even thus, quoth she, he seized on my lips,
And with her lips on bis did act the seizure;
And as she fetched breath, away he skips,
And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure.

Ah! that I had my lady at this bay,
To kiss and clip me till I run away!

Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share:
She bade good night, that kept my rest away ;
And daft'd me to a cabin hang'd with care,
To descant on the doubts of my decay.

Farewell, quoth she, and come again to-morrow

Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow. Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile, In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether : 'T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile, 'T may be, again to make me wander thither :

Wander, a word for shadows like myself,
As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.



Crabbed age and youth

Cannot live together; Youth is full of pleasance,

Age is full of care : Youth like summer morn,

Age like winter weather; Youth like sunimer brave,

Age like winter bare.
Youth is full of sport,
Age's breath is short;

Youth is nimble, age is lame :
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold;

Youth is wild, and age is tame.
Age, I do abhor thee,
Youth, I do adore thee;

O, nıy love, my love is young!
Age, I do defy thee;
O sweet shepherd, hie thee,

For metninks thou stay'st too long.

Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east !
My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,

Wbile Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,

And wish her lays were tuned like the lark; For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty, And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night: The night so pack’d, I post unto my pretty ; Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight:

Sorrow chang'd to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow,

For why? she sighi d, and hade me come to-morrow. Were I with her, the night would post too soon ; But now are minutes added to the hours; To spite me now, each minute seems a moon; 6 Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers ! Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now

borrow; Short, night, to-night, and length thyself to-morrow.



It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three, That liked of ber master as well as well might be, Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest that eye

But one must be refused, more mickle was the pain, That nothing could be used, to turn them both to gain, For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with

disdain : Alas, she could not help it!

could see,

Her fancy fell a turning. Lung was the combat doubtful, that love with love did

fight, To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant knight: To put in practice either, alas it was a spite

Unto the silly damsel. • Voded_faded.

• This Sonnet is found in “ Fidessa,' by B. Griffin, 1596. There are great variations in that copy.

* In the twenty-ninth volume of the 'Gentleman's Magazine a copy of this poem is given, as from an ancient manuscript, in which there are the following variations :

“ And as goods lost are seld or never found,

As faded gloss no rubbing will ercite,
As flowers dead lie wither'd on the ground,

As broken glass no cement can unite." 6 A moon. The original has an hour evidently a misprint, The emendation of moon, in the sense of month, is hy Steevens, and it ought to atone for some faults of the commeniator

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Thus art, with arms contending, was victor of the day, | Herds stand weeping,
Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away; Flocks all sleeping,
Then lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay ; Nymphs back peeping
For now my song is ended.

All our pleasure known to us poor swan

All our merry meetings on the plains,
On a day (alack the day !),

All our evening sport from us is fled, Love, whose month was ever May,

All our love is lost, for love is dead. Spied a blossom passing fair,

Farewell, sweet lass, Playing in the wanton air :

Thy like ne'er was Through the velvet leaves the wind,

For a sweet content, the cause of all my mean : All unseen, 'gan passage find ;

Poor Coridon That the lover, sick to death,

Must live alone, Wish d himself the heaven's breath,

Other help for him I see that there is none. Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; Air, would I might triumph so! But, alas, my hand hath sworn

Whenas thine eye hath chose the dame, Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn :

And stall’d the deer that thou shouldst strike, Vow, alack, for youth unmeet,

Let reason rule things worthy blame, Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet.

As well as fancy, partial might :* Thou for whom Jove would swear

Take counsel of some wiser head,
Juno but an Ethiope were;

Neither too young, nor yet unved.
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love."

And when thou com`st thy tale to tell,

Smooth not thy tongue with tiled talk, My flocks feed not,

Lest she some subtle practice smell ;

(A cripple soon can find a halt:) My ewes breed not,

But plainly say thou lov'st her well, My rams speed not, All is amiss :

And set her person forth to sell. Love is dying,

What though her frowning brows be bent, Faith 's defying,

Her cloudy looks will calm ere night; Heart 's denying,

And then too late she will repent, Causer of this.b

That thus dissembled her delight; All my merry jigs are quite foigot,

And twice desire, ere it be day, All my lady's love is lost, God wot :

That which with scorn she put away. Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love, There a nay is plac'd without remove.

What though she strive to try her strength, One silly cross

And ban and brawl, and say thee nay, Wrought all my loss ;

Her feeble force will yield at length, O frowning Fortune, cursed, fickle dame!

When craft hath taught her thus to say: For now I see,

“ Had women been so strong as men, Inconstancy

In faith you had not had it then."
More in women than in men remain.
In black mourn I,

And to her will frame all thy ways;
All fears scorn I,

Spare not to spend,—and chiefly there Love hath forlorn me,

Where thy desert may merit praise, Living in thrall :

By ringing in thy lady's ear: Heart is bleeding,

The strongest castle, tower, and town, All help needing,

The golden bullet beats it down. (O cruel speeding!)

Serve always with assured trust,
Fraughted with gall.
My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal,

And in thy suit be humble, true;
My wether's bell rings doleful knell;

Unless thy lady prove unjust,

Press never thou :o choose anew :
My curtail dog, that wont to have play'd,
Plays not at all, but seems afraid ;

When time shall serve, be thou not slack With sighs so deep,

To proffer, though she put thee back. Procures d to weep,

The wiles and guiles that women work, In howling wise, to see my doleful plighit.

Dissembled with an outward show, How sighs resound

The tricks and toys that in them lurk, Through heartless ground,

The cock that treads them shall not know, Like a thousand vanquish d men in bloody fight!

Have you not heard it said full oft, Clear wells spring not,

A woman's nay doth stand for nought! Sweet birds sing not,

Think women still to strive with men, Green plants bring not

To sin, and never for to saint: Forth; they die :

There is no heaven, hy holy then, a This beantiful little poem also occurs, with variations, in When time with age shall them attaint. Love's Labour's Lost.'

Were kisses all the joys in bed, b We have two other ancient copies of this poem-one ju

One woman would another wed. • England's Helicon,' 1600; the other in a collection of Madrigals by Thomas Weelkes, 1597.

© No deal-in no degree: sime deal and no deal were com- Fancy is here used as love, and might as potr. Steatens mon expressions,

mischievously we should imagine, changed partial to d Bucures. The curtail dog is the nominative case to this partial tike : and Malune adopts this reading, which makes

Cupid a bulldog.




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1035 But soft; enough,—too much I fear,

Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee ; Lest that my mistress hear my song;

Ruthless bears, they will not cheer thee. She 'll not sick to round me i' th' ear,

King Pandion, he is dead ; To teach my tongue to be so long ;

All thy friends are lapp'd in lead : Yet will she blush, here be it said,

All thy fellow-birds do sing,
To hear her secrets so bewray'd.

Careless of thy sorrowing.
Even so. poor bird, like thee,

None alive will pity me.
Live with me, and be my love,

Whilst as fickle Fortune smild, And we will all the pleasures prove

Thou and I were both beguild. That hills and valleys, dales and fields,

Every one that flatters thee

Is no friend in misery. And all the craggy mountains yields.

Words are easy like the wind;

Faithful friends are hard to find.
There will we sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,

Every man will be thy friend,

Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend ;
By shallow rivers, by whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

But if store of crowns be scant,

No man will supply thy want. There will I make thee a bed of roses,

If that one be prodigal, With a thousand fragrant posies,

Bountiful they will him call: A cap of flowers, and a kirile

And with such-like flattering, Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.

Pity but he were a king."

If he be addict to vice, A belt of straw and ivy buds,

Quickly him they will entice; With coral clasps and amber studs ;

If to women he be bent, And if these pleasures may thee move,

They have him at commandement; Then live with me and be my love.

But if fortune once do frown,

Then farewell his great renown;
Love's ANSWER.

They that fawnd on him before,

Use his company no more. If that the world and love were young,

He that is thy friend indeed, And truth in every shepherd's tongue,

He will help thee in thy need; These pretty pleasures might me move

If thou sorrow, he will weep; To live with thee and be thy love.

If thou wake, he cannot sleep :

Thus of every grief in heart xix."

He with thee doth bear a part.

These are certain signs to know
As it fell upon a day,

Faithful friend from flattering foe.
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made,
Beasts did leap, and birds did sing,

Trees did grow, and plants did spring :
Everything did banish moan,

Take, oh, take those lips away,
Save the nightingale alone :

That so sweetly were forsworn, She, poor bird, as all forlorn,

And those eyes, the break of day, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn,

Lights that do mislead the morn: And there sung the dolefull'st ditty,

But my kisses bring again,
That to hear it was great pity :

Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.
Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry,
Teru, Teru, by and by :

Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow, That to hear her so complain,

Which thy frozen bosom bears, Scarce I could from tears refrain ;

On whose tops the pinks that grow For her griefs so lively shown,

Are of those that April wears. Made me think upon mine own.

But first set my poor heart free, Ah! thought I, thou mourn'st in vain;

Bound in those icy chains by thee." None take pity on thy pain :

& The collection entitled 'The Passionate Pilgrim,'&c., ende

with the Sonnet to Sundry Notes of Music which we have This poem is also incompletely printed in England's numbered xıx. Maloue adds to the collection this exqui-ite Helicun ; wliere it berry ille rigoature Ignoto.

song, of which we find the first verse in • Measure for Measure.'



Let the bird of loudest lay,
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.

So between them love did shine, That the turtle saw his right Flaming in the phænix' sight: Either was the other's mine. Property was thus appall’d, That the self was not the same; Single nature's double name Neither two nor one was calld.

But thou, sbrieking harbinger,
Foul pre-currer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever's end,
To this troop come thou not near.


From this session interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle, feather'd king :
Keep the obsequy so strict.
Let the priest in surplice white,
That defunctive music can, b
Be the death-divining swan,
Lest the requiem lack his right.
And thou, treble-dated crow,
That thy sable gender mak'st
With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st,
'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.

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Here the anthem doth commence :
Love and constancy is dead;
Phænix and the turtle ied
In a mutual flame from hence.

Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together ;
To themselves yet either-neither,
Simple were so well compoundei:
That it cried how true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one!
Love hath reason, reason none,
If what parts can so remain.
Whereupon it made this threne?
To the plænix and the dove,
Co-supremes and stars of love;
As chorus to their tragic scene.

Beauty, truth, and rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclos d in cinders lie
Death is now the phenix' nes;
And the turtle's loyal breas
To eternity doth rest,
Leaving no posterity :-
"T was not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.
Truth may seem, but cannot be.
Beauty brag, but 't is net sbe ;
Truth and beauty buriend be.
To this urn let those repair
That are either true or fair ;
For these dead birds sign a prayii.


So they lov'd, as love in twain Had the essence but in one; Two distincts, division none: Number there in love was slain.

Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
Distance, and no space was seen
"Twixt the turtle and his queeu :
But in them it were a wonder.

There is a curious coincidence in a passage in “ The Tem


“ Now I will believe That there are unicorns; that in Arabia

There is one tree, the phenix' throne." Can--knows.

a Threne-tunereal song.

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