if thou should'st depart Leaving thee living in posterity Be not selfe-wild for thou art much too faire To be deaths conquest and make wormes thine heire An invitation to Marriage MVsick to heare why hear'st thou musick sadly Sweets with sweets warre not joy delights in joy Why lov'st thou that which thou receavst not gladly Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy If the true concord of well tuned sounds By unions married do offend thine eare They do but sweetly chide thee who confounds In singlenesse the parts that thou should'st beare Marke how one string sweet husband to another Strikes each in each by mutuall ordering Resembling â—ier and child and happy mother Who all in one one pleasing note do sing Whose speechlesse song being many seeming one Sings this to thee thou single wilt prove none It is for feare to wet a widdowes eye That thou consum'st thy selfe in single life Ah if thou issuleâ—â—e shalt hap to die The world will waile thee like a makelesse wife The world will be thy widdow and still weepe That thou no forme of thee hast left behind When every privat widdow well may keepe By childrens eyes her husbands shape in minde Looke what an unthrift in the world doth spend Shifts but his place for still the world enjoyes it But beauties waste hath in the world an end And kept unus'd the user so destroyes it No love toward others in that bosome sits That on himselfe such murdrous shame commits For shame dâ—â—y that thou bear'st love to any Who for thy selfe art so unprovident Grant if thou wilt thou art belov'd of many But that thou none lov'st is most evident For thou art so possest with murdrous hate That gainst thy selfe thou stickst not to conspire Seeking that beautious roofe to ruinate Which to repaire should be thy chiefe desire O change thy thought that I may change my minde Shall hate be fairer log'd then gentle love Be as thy presence is gracious and kind Or to thy selfe at least kind hearted prove Make thee another selfe for love of me That beautie still may live in thine or thee As fast as thou shalt wane so fast thou grow'st In one of thine from that which thou departest And that fresh blood which yongly thou bestow'st Thou maist call thine when thou from youth convertest Herein lives wisedome beautie and increase Without this folly age and cold decay If all were minded so the times should cease And threescore yeares would make the world away Let those whoâ— nature hath not made for store Harsh featurelesse and rude barrenly perish Looke whom she best indow'd she gave the more Which bountious gift thou shouldst in bountie cherrish She carv'd thee for her seâ—le and ment thereby Thou shouldst print more not let that coppy die When I doe count the clock that tels the time And see the brave day sunck in hidious night When I behold the violet past prime And sable curls or silver'd ore with white When loftie trees I see barren of leaves Which erst from heat did canopiâ— the herd And Sommers greene all girded up in sheaves Borne on the beare with white and bristly beard Then of thy beautie doe I question make That thou among the wasts of time must goe Since sweets and beauties doe themselves forsake And die as fast as they see others grow And nothing gainst Times sithe can make defence Save bread to brave him when he takes thee hence False beleefe WHen my Love sweares that she is made of truth I doe beleeve her though I know she lies That she might thinke me some untutor'd youth Vnskilfull in the worlds false forgeries Thus vainly thinking that she thinkes me young Although I know my yeares be past the best I smiling credit her false speaking tongue Outfacing faults in Love with loves ill rest But wherefore sayes my love that shee is young And wherefore say not I that I am old O Loves best habit is a soothing tongue And Age in love loves not to have yeares told Therefore I le lie with Love and Love with me Since that our faults in Love thus smother'd be A Temptation TWo loves I have of Comfort and Despaire That like two Spirits doe suggest me still My better Angell is a Man right faire My worser spirit a Woman colour'd ill To winne me soone to hell my Female evill Tempteth my better Angell from my side And would corrupt my Saint to be a Divell Wooing his puritie with her faire pride And whether that my Angell be turnd feend Suspect I may yet not directly tell For being both to me both to each friend I ghesse one Angell in anothers hell The truth I shall not know but live in doubt Till my bad Angell fire my good one out Fast and loose DId not the heavenly Rhetoricke of thine eye Gainst whom the world could not hold argument Perswade my heart to this false perjurie Vowes for thee broke deserve not punishment A woman I forswore but I will proue Thou being a Goddesse I forswore not thee My vow was earthly thou a heavenly love Thy grace being gaind cures all disgrace in me My vow was breath and breath a vapour is Then thou faire Sun that on this earth doth shine Exhale this vapour vow in thee it is If broken thâ—n it is no fault of mine If by me broke what foole is not so wise To breake an Oath to win a Paradise True content SO is it not with me as with that Muse Stird by a painted beautie to his verse Who heaven it selfe for ornament doth use And every faire with his faire doth reherse Making a cooplement of proud compare With Sunne and Moone with earth and seas rich gems With Aprills first borne flowers and all things rare That heavens ayre in this huge rondure hems O let me true in love but truly write And then beleeve me my love is as faire As any mothers childe though not so bright As those gold candells fixt in heavens ayeâ— Let them say more that like of heare-say well I will not prayse that purpose not to sell A bashfull Lover AS an unperfect actor on the stage Who with his feare is put besides his part Or some fierce thing repleat with too much rage Whose strengths abnndance weakens his owne heart So I for feare of trust forget to say The perfect ceremony of loves right And in mine owne loves strength seeme to decay Ore-charg'd with burthen of mine owne loves might O let my books be then the eloquence And domb presagers of my speaking brest Who pleade for love and looke for recompence More then that tongue that more hath more exprest O learne to read what silent love hath writ To heare with eyes belongs to loves fine wit Strong conceite MY glasse shall not perswade me I am old So long as youth and thou art of one date But when in thee times forrowes I behold Then looke I death my dayes should expiate For all that beautie that doth cover
POEMS VVRITTEN BY WIL SHAKE-SPEARE Gent. Printed at London by Tho. Cotes and are to be sold by Iohn Benson dwelling in St. Dunstans Church-yard 1640. To the Reader I Here presume under favour to present to your view some excellent and sweetely composed Poems of Master William Shakespeare Which in themselves appeare of the same purity the Authour himselfe then living avouched they had not the fortune by reason of their Infancie in his death to have the due accomodatioÌ„ of proportionable glory with the rest of his everliving Workes yet the lines of themselves will afford you a more authentick approbation than my assurance any way can to invite your allowance in your perusall you shall finde them Seren cleere and eligantly plaine such gentle straines as shall recreate and not perplexe your braine no intricate or cloudy stuffe to puzzell intellect but perfect eloquence such as will raise your admiration to his praise this assurance I know will not differ from your acknowledgement And certaine I am my opinion will be seconded by the sufficiency of these ensuing Lines I have beene somewhat solicitus to bring this forth to the perfect view of all men and in so doing glad to be serviceable for the continuance of glory to the deserved Author in these his Poems I. B. Vpon Master WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE the Deceased Authour and his POEMS POets are borne not made when I would prove This truth the glad rememberance I must love Of never dying Shakespeare who alone Is argument enough to make that one First that he was a Poet none would doubt That heard th' applause of what he sees set out Imprinted where thou hast I will not say Reader his Workes for to contrive a Play To him t was none the patterne of all wit Art without Art unparaleld as yet Next Nature onely helpt him for looke thorow This whole Booke thou shalt find he doth not borrow One phrase from Greekes nor Latines imitate Nor once from vulgar Languages Translate Nor Plagiari-like from others gleane Nor begges he from each witty friend a Scene To peece his Acts with all that he doth write Is pure his owne plot language exquisite But oh what praise more powerfull can we give The dead then that by him the Kings men live His Players which should they but have shar'd the Fate All else expir'd within the short Termes date How could the Globe have prospered since through want Of change the Plaies and Poems had growne scant But happy Verse thou shalt be sung and heard When hungry quills shall be such honour bard Then vanish upstart Writers to each Stage You needy Poetasters of this Age Where Shakespeare liv'd or spake Vermine forbeare Least with your froth you spot them come not neere But if you needs must write if poverty So pinch that otherwise you starve and die On Gods name may the Bull or Cockpit have Your lame blancke Verse to keepe you from the grave Or let new Fortunes younger brethren see What they can picke from your leane industry I doe not wonder when you offer at Blacke-Friers that you suffer t is the fate Of richer veines prime judgements that have far'd The worse with this deceased man compar'd So have I seene when Cesar would appeare And on the Stage at halfe-sword parley were Brutus and Cassius oh how the Audience Were ravish'd with what wonder they went thence When some new day they would not brooke a line Of tedious though well laboured Catilines Sejanus too was irkesome they priz'de more Honest Iago or the jealous Moore And though the Fox and subtill Alchimist Long intermitted could not quite be mist Though these have sham'd all the Ancients and might raise Their Authours merit with a crowne of Bayes Yet these sometimes even at a friends desire Acted have scarce defrai'd the Seacoale fire And doore-keepers when let but Falstaffe come Hall Peines the rest you scarce shall have a roome All is so pester'd let but Beatrice And Benedicke be seene loe in a trice The Cockpit Galleries Boxes all are full To heare Maluoglio that crosse garter'd Gull Briefe there is nothing in his wit fraught Booke Whose sound we would not heare on whose worth looke Like old coynd gold whose lines in every page Shall passe true currant to succeeding age But why doe I dead Sheakspeares praise recite Some second Shakespeare must of Shakespeare write For me t is needlesse since an host of men Will pay to clap his praise to free my Pen Leon Digges Of Mr. William Shakespeare WHat lofty Shakespeare art againe reviv'd And Virbius like now show'st thy selfe twise liv'd T is love that thus to thee is showne The labours his the glory sti'l thine owne These learned Poems amongst thine after-birth That makes thy name immortall on the earth Will make the learned still admire to see The Muses gifts so fully infus'd on thee Let Carping Momus barke and bite his fill And ignorant Davus slight thy learned skill Yet those who know the worth of thy desert And with true judgement can discerne thy Art Will be admirers of thy high tun'd straine Amongst whose number let me still remaine John Warren POEMS VVRITTEN BY WIL SHAKE-SPEARE Gent. Printed at London by Tho. Cotes and are to be sold by Iohn Benson dwelling in St. Dunstans Church-yard POEMS BY WILL SHAKESPEARE Gent. The glory of beautie AH wherefore with infection should he live And with his presence grace impietie That sinne by him advantage should achieve And lace it selfe with his societie Why should false painting imitate his cheeke And steale dead seeing of his living hew Why should poore beautie indirectly seeke Roses of shaddow since his Rose is true Why should he live now nature banckrout is Beggerd of blood to blush through lively veines For shee hath no exchecker now but his And pâ—ouâ— of many lives upon his gaines O him she stores to show what wealth she had In dares long since before these last so bad Thus is his cheeke the map of daies out-worne When beauty liv'd and dy'd as flowers do now Before these bastard signes of faire were borne Or durst inhabit on a living brow Before the goulden tresses of the dead The right of sepulchers were shorne away To live a second life on second head Ere beauties dead fleece made another gay In him those holy antique howers are seene Without all ornament it selfe and true Making no summer of an others greene Robbing no old to dresse his beautie new And him as for a map doth Nature store To show false Art what beautie was of yore Those parts of thee that the worlds eye doth view Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend All tongues the voice of soules give thee that end Vttring bare truth even so as foes Commend Their outward thus with outward praise is crownd But those same tongues that give thee so thine owne In other accents doe this praise confound By seeing farther then the eye hath showne They looke into the
pride The argument all bare is of more worth Then when it hath my added praise beside Oh blame me not if I no more can write Looke in your glasse and there appeares a face That overgoes my blunt invention quite Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace Were it not sinfull then striving to mend To marre the subject that before was well For to no other passe my verses tend Then of your graces and your gifts to tell And more much more thâ—n in my verse can sit Your owne glasse showes you when you looke in it A Lovers excuse for his long absence O Never say that I was false of heart Though absence seem'd my flame to quallifie As easie might I from my selfe depart As from my soule which in thy brest doth lye That is my home of love if I have rang'd Like him that travels I returne againe Iust to the time not with the time exchang'd So that my selfe bring water for my staine Never beleeve though in my nature raign'd All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood That it could so prâ—posterously be stain'd To leave for nothing all thy summe of good For nothing this wide Vniverse I call Save thou my Rose in it thou art my all Alas 't is true I have gone here and there And made my selfe a motley to the view Gor'd mine owne thoughts sold cheape what is most deare Made old offences of affections new Most true it is that I have lookt on truth Asconce and strangely But by all above These blenches gave my heart another youth And worse affaies prou'd thee my best of love Now all is done have what shall have no end Mine appetite I never more will grinde On newer proofe to trie an older friend A God in love to whom I am confin'd Then give me welcome next my heaven the best Even to thy pure and most most loving brest A complaint OFor my sake doe you wish fortune chide The guiltie goddesse of my harmelesse deeds That did not better for my life provide Then publick meanes which publicke manners breeds Thence comes it that my name receives a brand And almost thence my nature is subdu'd To what it workes in like the Dyers hand Pitty me then and wish I were renu'de Whilst like a willing patient I will drinke Potions of Eysell gainst my strong infection No bitternesse that I will bitter thinke Nor double pennance to correct correction Pittie me then deare friend and I assure yee Even that your pittie is enough to cure me Your love and pittie doth th' impression fill Which vulgar scandall stampt upon my brow For what care I who calls me well or ill So you ore-greene my bad my good alow You are my All the world and I must strive To know my shames and prayses from your tongue None else to me nor I to none alive That my steel'd sence or changes right or wrong In so profound Abisme I throw all care Of others voyces that my Adderssence To cryttick and to flatterer stopped are Marke how with my neglect I doe dispence You are so strongly in my purpose bred That all the world beside me thinkes y' are dead Selfe flattery of her beautie SInce I left you mine eye is in my minde And that which governes me to goe about Doth part his function and is partly blind Seemes seeing but effectually is out For it no forme delivers to the heart Of birds or flower or shape which it doth lack Of his quick objects hath the mind no part Nor his owne vision houlds what it doth catch For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight The most sweet favour or deformedst creature The mountaine or the sea the day or night The Crow or Dove it shapes them to your feature Incapable of more repleat with you My most true minde thus maketh mine untrue Or whether doth my minde being crown'd with you Drinke up the monarchs plague this flattery Or whether shall I say mine eye saith true And that your love taught it this Alcumie To make of monsters and things indigest Such cherubins as your sweet selfe resemble Creating every bad a perfect best As fast as objects to his beames assemble Oh t is the first t is flattry in my seeing And my great mind most kindly drinkes it up Mine eye well knowes what with his gust is greeing And to his pallat doth prepare the cup If it be poison'd t is the lesser sinne That mine eye loves it and doth first beginne Those lines that I before have writ doe lie Even those that said I could not love you deerer Yet then my judgement knew no reason why My most full flaâ—e should afterwards burne clearer But reckoning time whose milliond accidents Creepe in twixt vowes and change decrees of Kings Tan sacred beautie blunt the sharp'st intents Divert strong minds to th' course of altring things Alas why fearing of times tiranny Might I not then say now I love you best When I was certaine ore in-certaintie Crowning the present doubting of the rest Love is a Babe then might I not say so To give full growth to that which still doth grow Tryall of loves constancy ACcuse me thus that I have scanted all Wherein I should your great deserts repay Forgot upon your dearest love to call Whereto all bonds doe tie me day by day That I have frequent binne with unknowne minds And given to time your owne deare purchas'd right That I have hoysted saile to all the winds Which should transport me farthest from your sight Booke both my wilfulnesse and errour downe And on just proofe surmise accumilate Bring me within the levell of your frowne But shoote not at me in your wakened hate Since my appeale sayes I did strive to proove The constancy and vertue of your love Like as to make our appetites more keene With eager compounds we our pallat urge As to prevent our malladies unseene We sicken to shun sicknesse when we purge Even so being full of your neare cloying sweetnesse To bitter sawces did I frame my feeding And sicke of wel-fare found a kinde of meetnesse To be discas'd ere that there was true needing Thus pollicie in love t' anticipate The ills that were not grew to faults assured And brought to medicine a healthfull state Which ranke of goodnesse would by ill be cured But thence I learne and find the lesson true Drugs poyson him that so fell sicke of you What potions have I drunke of Syren teareâ— Distil'd from Limbecks foule as hell within Applying feares to hopes and hopes to feares Still loosing when I saw my selfe to win What wretched errors hath my heart committed Whilst it hath thought it selfe so blessed never How have mine eyes out of their Spheares beene fitted In the distraction of this madding fever O benefit of ill now I finde true That better iâ— by evill still made better And ruin'd love when it is built anew Growes fairer then at first more strong far greater So I returne
Although I sweare it to my selfe alone And to be sure that is not false I sweare A thousand grones but thinking on thy face One on anothers necke doe witnesse beare Thy black is fairest in my judgements place In nothing art thou blacke save in thy deeds And thence this slander as I thinke proceeds Thine eyes I love and they as pittying me Knowing thy heart torments me with disdaine Have put on blacke and loving mourners be Looking with pretty ruth upon my paine And truly not the morning Sun of Heaven Better becomes the gray cheekes of th' East Nor that full starre that ushers in the Even Doth halfe that glory to the sober West As those two morning eyes become thy face O let it then as well beseeme thy heart To mourne for me since mourning doth thee grace And sute thy pittie like in every part Then will I sweare beauty her selfe is blacke And all they foule that thy complection lacke Vnkinde Abuse BE shrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deepe wound it gives my friend and me I' st not enough to torture me along But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be Me from my selfe thy cruell eye hath taken And my next selfe thou harder hast ingrossed Of him my selfe and thee I am forsaken A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crossed Prison my heart in thy steele bosomes ward But then my friends heart let my poore heart baile Who ere keepes me let my heart be his garde Thou canst not then use rigor in my saile And yet thou wilt for I being pent in thee Perforce am thine and all that is in me So now I have confest that he is thine And I my selfe am morgag'd to thy will My selfe I le forfeit so that other mine Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still But thou wilt not nor he will not be free For thou art covetous and he is kinde He learned but suretiâ—-like to write for me Vnder that bond that him as fast doth binde The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take Thou usurer that put'st forth all to use And sue a friend came debtor for my sake So him I loose through my unkinde abuse Him have I lost thou hast both him and me He paies the whole and yet I am not free A Love-Suite WHo ever hath her wish thou hast thy will And will too boote and will in over-plus More than enough am I that vexe thee still To thy sweet will making addition thus Wilt thou whose will is large and spacious Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine Shall will in others seeme right gracious And in my will no faire acceptance shine The sea all water yet receives raine still And in abundance addeth to his store So thou being rich in Will adde to thy Will One will of mine to make thy large will more Let no unkinde no faire beseechers kill Thinke all but one and me in that one Will If thy soule checke thee that I come so neere Sweare to thy blinde soule that I was thy will And will thy soule knowes is admitted there Thus farre for love my Love-suite sweet fulfill Will will fulfill the treasure of thy love I fill it full with wills and my will one In things of great receipt with ease we prove Among a number one is reckon'd none Then in the number let me passe untold Though in thy stores account I one must be For nothing hold me so it please thee I old That nothing me a some-thing sweet to thee Make but my name thy love and love that still And then thou lovest me for my name is Will His heart wounded by her eye THou blinde foole love what dost thou to mine eyes That they behold and see not what they see They know what beauty is see where it lies Yet what the best is take the worst to be If eyes corrupt by over-partiall lookes Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride Why of eyes falsehood hast thou forged hookes Whereto the judgement of my heart is tide Why should my heart thinke that a severall plot Which my heart knowes the wide worlds common place Or mine eyes seeing this say this is not To put faire truth upon so foule a face In things right true my heart and eyes have erred And to this false plague are they now transferred O call not me to justifie the wrong That thy unkindnesse layes upon my heart Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue Vse power with power and â—lay me not by Art Tell me thou lov'st ese-where but in my sight Deare heart forbeare to glance thine eye aside What needst thou wound with cunning when thy might Is more than my ore-prest defence can bide Let me excuse thee ah my love well knowes Her prettie lookes have beene my enemies And therefore from my face she turnes my foes That they else-where might dart their injuries Yet doe not so but since I am neere slaine Kill me out-right with lookes and rid my paine Be wise as thou art cruell doe not presse My tongue-tide patience with too much disdaine Least sorrow lend me words and words expresse The manner of my pitty wanting paine If I might teach thee wit better it were Though not to love yet love to tell me so As testie sick-men when their deaths be neere No newes but health from their Phisitions know For if I should dispaire I should grow madde And in my madnesse might speake ill of thee Now this ill wresting world is growne so bad Mad slanderers by madde eares beleeved be That I may not be so nor thou be-lide Beare thine eyes straight though thy proud heart goâ— wide A Protestation IN faith I doe not love thee with mine eyes For they in thee a thousand errors note But 't is my heart that loves what they dispise Who in despight of view is pleasd to dote Nor are mine eares with thy tongues tune delighted Nor tender feeling to base touches prone Nor taste nor smell desire to be invited To any sensuall feast with the alone But my five wits nor my five senses can Diswade one foolish heart from serving thee Who leaves unswai'd the likenesse of a man Thy proud hearts slave and vassall wretch to be Onely my plague thus farre I count my gaine That she that makes me sinne avvards me paine Love is my sinne and my deare vertue hate Hate of my sinne grounded on sinfull loving O but with mine compare thou thine owne state And thou shalt finde it merits not reprooving Or if it doe not from those lips of thine That have prophan'd their scarlet ornaments And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine Rob'd others beds revenues of their rents Be it lawfull I love thee as thou lov'st those Whom thine eyes woe as mine importune thee Roote pitty in thy heart that when it growes Thy pitty may deserve to pittied be If thou dost seeke to have what thou dost hide By selfe
have attain'd'mongst Souldiers grace None will beleeve you that but sees your face Your feature and faire shape is fitter farre For amorus Courtships than remorselesse warre Let rough hew'd Souldiers warlike dangers prove T is pitty Paris should doe ought save love Hector whom you so praise for you may fight I le finde you warre to skirmish every night Which shall become you better were I wise And bold withall I might obtaine the prize In such sweete single Combats hand to hand 'Gainst which no woman that is wise will stand My Champion I le encounter breast to breast Though I were sure to fall and be o'repreast In that your private conference intreate me I apprehend you and you cannot cheate me I know the meaning durst I yeeld there to Of what you would conferre what you would doe You are too forward you too farre would wâ—de But yet God knowes your harvests in the blade My tyred pen shall here his labour end A guilty sence in theevish lines I send Speake next when your occasion best perswades By Clymenea and Aethra my two maides The Passionate Shepheard to his Love LIve with me and be my Love And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and vallies dales and fields And all the craggy mountaines yeelds There will we sit upon the Rockes And see the Shepheards feede their flocks By shallow Rivers by whose falles Melodious birds sing Madrigales There will I make thee a bed of Roses With a thousand fragrant poses A cap of flowers and a Kirtle Imbrodered all with leaves of Mirtle A gowne made of the finest wooll Which from our pretty Lambes we pull Faire lined slippâ—râ— for the cold With buckles of the purest gold A belt of straw and Ivie buds With Corall Claspes and Amber studs And if these pleasures may thee move Then live with me and be my Love The Shepheards Swaines shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning If these delights thy minde may move Then live with me and be my love The Nimphs reply to the Shepheard IF that the world and Love were young And truth in every shepheards tongue These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy Love Time drives the flockes from field to fould When River rage and Rocks grow cold And Philomell becometh dumbe The rest complaines of cares to come The flowers doe fade and wanton fields To wayward Winter reckoning yeelds A hony tongue a heart of gall Is fancies spring but sorrowes fall Thy Gownes thy Shooes thy bed of Roses Thy Cap thy Kirtle and thy Posies Some breake some wither some forgotten In folly ripe in Reason rotten Thy belt of straw and Ivie buds Thy Corell Claspes and Amber studs All these in me no meanes can move To come to thee and be thy Love But could youth last and Love still breede Had joyes no date not age no neede Then these delights my minde might move To live with thee and be thy Love Another of the same Nature COme live with me and be my deare And we will revill all the yeare In plaines and groves on hills and dales Where fragrant ayre breeds sweetest gales There shall you have the beautious Pine The Ceder and the spreading Vine And all the woods to be a skrene Least Phoebus kisse my Summers Queene The seat for your disport shall be Over some River in a Tree Where silver sands and pebbles sing Eternall ditties with the Spring There shall you see the Nymphs at play And how the Satyres spend the day The fishes gliding on the sands Offring their bellies to your hands The Birds with heavenly tuned throates Possesse woods Ecchoes with sweet notes Which to your sences will impart A musique to inflame the heart Vpon the bare and leafelesse Oake The Ring-Doves wâ—â—ingâ— will provoke A colder blood then you possesse To play with me and doe no lesse In bowers of Lawrell trimly dight We will outweare the silent night While Flora busie is to spread Her richest treasure on our bed Ten Glow-wormes shall attend And all their sparkling lights shall spend All to adorne and beautifie Your lodging with most majestie Then in my armes will I inclose Lillies faire mixture with the Rose Whose nice perfections in Loves play Shall turne me to the highest Key Thus as we passe the welcome night In sportfull pléasures and delight The nimble Faries on the grounds Shall dance and sing melodious sounds If these may serve for to intice Your presence to Loves Paradise Then come with me and be my deare And we will straight begin the yeare TAke O take those lippes away That so sweetly were forsworne And those eyes the breake of day Lights which doe mislead the morne But my kisses bring againe Seales of Love though seal'd in vaine Hide O hide those hills of Snow Which thy frozen bosome beares On whose toppes the Pinkes that grow Are of those that Aprils weares But my poore heart first set free Bound in those Icy chaines by theâ— LEt the bird of lowest lay On the sole Arabian tree Herauld sad and Trumpet be To whose sound chast wings obay But thou shrinking harbinger Foule precurrer of the fiend Augour of the feavers end To this Troope come thou not neere From this Session interdict Every foule of Tyrant wing Save the Eagle feathered King Keepe the obsequie so strict Let the Priest in Surplis white That deâ—untive Musicke 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 constancie is dead Poenix and the Turtle Fled In a mutuall flame from hence So they loved as love in twaine Had the essence but in one Two distincts but in none Number there in love was slaine Hearts remote yet not asunder Distance and no space was seene Twixt thy Turtle and his Queene But in them it were a wonder So betweene them Love did shine That the Turtle saw his right Flaming in the Phoenix sight Either was the others mine Propertie was thus appalled That the selfe was not the same Single Natures double name Neither two nor one was called Reason in it selfe confounded Saw division grow together To themselves yet either neither Simple were so well compounded That it cried how true a twaine Seemeth this concordant one Love hath Reason Reason none If what parts can so remaine Whereupon it made this Threne To the Phoenix and the Dove Co-supreames and starres of Love As Chorus to their tragique Scene Threnes BEauty Truth and Raritie Grace in all Simpliicity Hence inclosed in câ—â—ers lie Death is now the Phoenix nest And the Turtles loyall breast To eternity doth rest Leaving no posterity T was not their infirmity It was married Chastity Truth may seeme but cannot be Beauty bragge but t is not shee Truth and Beautie buried be To this Vrne let those repaire