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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 friend, I pardon crave of thee;
Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good,
A shining gloss, that vadeth 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 wither'd on the ground, As broken glass no cement can redress,

So beauty, blemish'd 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 ber,
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 his 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 daffd 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, my love, my love is young!
Age, I do defy thee;
O sweet shepherd, hie thee,

For methinks 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,

While 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 sigh’d, and hade me come to-morrow. Were I with ber, the night would post too soon ; But now are minutes added to the hours ; To spite me now, each minute seems a moon ; 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.




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!

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

could see, Her fancy fell a turning. Long 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. • Viided-faded. b 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 dowers dead lie wither'd on the ground,

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



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 swain

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 rcan : 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 bath chose the dame, Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn :

And stall'd the deer that thou shonldst 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 bead,
Juno but an Ethiope were;

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

And when thou com'st thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with uiled talk,

Lest she some subtle practice smell ;
My flocks feed not,
My ewes breed not,

(A cripple soon can find a halt:) My rams speed not,

But plainly say thou lov'st her well, 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 forgot,

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!) Fraughted with gall.

Serve always with assured trust, 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, My curtail dog, that wont to have play'd,

Press never thou :o choose anew : 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 plight.

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 beautiful 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 in

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: some deal and no deal were com- # Fancy is here used as loce, and might as poder. Sterrens mon expressions.

mischievously we should imagine, changed partial site d Bücures. The curtail dog is the nominative case to this partial tike ; and Malune adopts this reading, which saka But soft; enough,—too much I fear,

Cupid a bulldog.


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

Ruthless bears, they will not cheer thee. She 'll not stick 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, xv.

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 beguil'd. 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; There will we sit upon the rocks,

Faithful friends are hard to find. And see the shepherds feed their flocks,

Every man will be thy friend, By shallow rivers, by whose falls

Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend ; 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 kirtle

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 tby love.

If thou wake, he cannot sleep :
Thus of every grief in heart
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 mom : 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 mouru'st in vain;

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

# The collection entitled 'The Passionate Pilgrim,'&c., ends

with the Sonnet to Sundry Notes of Music which we have • This poem is also tucompletely printed in 'England's numbered xıx. Maloue adds to the collection this exqui-ite Helicon; where it berrs tlie eignature 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 phanix' sight: Either was the other's mine. Property was thus appa!I'd, That the self was not the same; Single nature's double name Neither two nor one was call'd.

But thou, shrieking 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,
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.
Here the anthem doth commence :
Love and constancy is dead;
Phænix and the turtle led
In a mutual flame from hence.

Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together ;
To themselves yet either-neither,
Simple were so well compoundel:
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' nest;
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 not sbe;
Truth and beauty buried be.
To this urn let those repair
That are either true or fair ;
For these dead birds sigo a prajet.

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a Threne-funereal song.

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