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SONNETS. LO OCK up, fair lids! the treasure of my heart,
Preserve those beams, this age's only light; To her sweet sense, sweet sleep! some ease impart,
Her sense too weak to bear her spirit's might.
And while, o Sleep! thou closest up her sightHer sight, where Love did forge his fairest dart,
O harbour all her parts in easeful plight:
But wilt thy self in such a seat delight;
Kiss ber from me; and say, unto her sprite,
Happy Thames, that didst my Stella bear!
I saw thee, with full many a smiling line, Upon thy cheerful face joy's livery wear; While those fair planets on thy streams did shine.
The boat, for joy, could not to dance forbear ; While wanton winds, with beauties so divine,
Ravish'd, staid not till in her golden hair They did themselves (O sweetest prison') twine;
And fain those Æol's youth there would their stay Have made; but forc'd by nature still to Ay,
First did with puffing kiss those locks display. She, so disħevell’d, blush'd: from window I,
With sight thereof, cried out-o fair disgrace, Let honour's self to thee grant highest place!
Be your words
made, good Sir! of Indian ware,
That you allow me them by so small rate?
That to my questions you so total are?
O God ! think you, that satisfies my care? I would know, whether she do sit or walk?
How cloth'd ? How waited on? Sigh'd she, or smil'd? Whereof? with whom? how often did she talk ?
With what pastime, time's journey she beguil'd ? If her lips deign'd to sweeten my poor name? Say all, and all well said, still say the same.
LOVE, banish'd Heaven, on earth was held
in scorn, Wand'ring abroad in need and beggary; And wanting friends, though of a goddess born, Yet crav'd the alms of such as passed by : I, like a man devout and charitable, Clothed the naked, lodg'd this wand'ring Guest; With sighs and tears still furnishing his table, With what might make the miserable blest. But this Ungrateful, for my good desert, Intic'd my thoughts against me to conspire, Who gave consent to steal away my heart; And set my brcast, his lodging, on a fire. Well,well my friends! when beggars grow thus bold, No marvel, then, though charity grow cold!
DEAR! why should you command me to my rest,
When now the Night doth summon all to sleep? Methinks, this time becometh lovers best; Night was ordain'd together friends to keep. How happy are all other living things, Which, though the day disjoin by several flight, The quiet evening yet together brings ; And each returns unto his Love at night! 0, thou that art so courteous else to all, Why shouldst thou, Night! abuse me only thus; That ev'ry creature to his kind do'st call, And yet 'tis thoa dost only sever us? Well could I wish it would be ever day, If, when night comes, you bid me go away.
CUPID AND CAMPASPE. CUPID and my Campaspe play'd
At cards for kisses; Cupid paid :
O Love! has she done thus to thee?
Yes! O yes ! if any maid
Whom leering Cupid has betray'd To frowns of spite, to eyes of scorn, And would in madness now see torn The boy in pieces ; let her come Hither, and lay on him her doom, O yes ! O yes ! has any lost A heart which many a sigh hath cost? Is any cozen'd of a tear Which, as a pearl, Disdain doth wear? Here stands the thief; let her but come Hither, and lay on him her doom. Is any one undone by fire, And turn'd to ashes through desire ? Did ever any lady weep, Being cheated of her golden sleep, Stol'n by sick thoughts? the pirate's found, And in her tears he shall be drown'd. Read his indictment: let him hear What he's to trust to: Boy, give car.
SONNETS. BEAUTY, sweet love, is like the morning dew,
Whose short refresh upon the tender green, Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth shew,
And straight 'tis gone as it had never been. Soon doth it fade that makes the fairest flourish,
Short is the glory of the blushing rose:
Yet which at length thou must be forc'a to lose. When thou, surcharg'd with burthen of thy years,
Shall bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth, And when in beauty's lease, expir'd, appears
The date of age, the calends of our deathBut ah! no more-this must not be foretold, For women grieve to think they must be old.
I Must not grieve my love, whose eyes would read
Lines of delight whereon her youth might smile, Flowers have time before they come to seed,
And she is young, and now must sport the while. And sport (sweet maid) in season of these years,
And learn to gather flowers before they wither, And where the sweetest blossom first appears,
Let love and youth conduct thy pleasures thither. Lighten forth smiles to cheer the clouded air,
And calm the tempest which my sighs do raise; Pity and smiles do best become the fair,
Pity and smiles must only yield thee praise. Make me to say, when all my griefs are gone, Happy the heart that sigh'd for such a one.