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The paths where Amargana treads
With flow'ry tapestries Flora spreads,
And nature clothes the ground in green,
To glad our lovely summer queen.
The groves put on their rich array,
With hawthorn-blooms embroider'd gay,
And sweet-perfumed with eglantine,
To glad our lovely summer queen.
The silent river stays his course,
Whilst, playing in the chrystal source,
The silver-scaled fish are seen
To glad our lovely summer queen.
The woods at her fair sight rejoice,
The little birds, with their loud voice,
In concert on the branches been,
To glad our lovely summer queen.
Great Pan, our god, for her dear sake,
This feast and meeting bids us make,
Of shepherd lads, and lasses sheen,
To glad our lovely summer queen.
And every swain his chance doth prove,
To win fair Amargana's love;
In sporting strifes, quite void of spleen,
To glad our lovely summer queen.
All happiness let leat her lend,
And all the Graces her attend;
Thus bid me pray the Muses nine,
Long live our lovely summer quecn.

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COME live with me, and be my love,

And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dale and field, And all the craggy mountains yield. There will we sit upon the rocks, And see the shepherds feed their flocks; By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. There will I make thee beds of roses, With a thousand fragrant posies; A cap of flowers, and a kirtle, Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle; A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Slippers lin'd choicely for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold; A belt of straw and ivy bads, With coral clasps and amber studs : And if these pleasures may thee move, Then live with me, and be my love. The shepherd swains shall dance and sing, For thy delight, each May morning : If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me, and be my love.



IF that the world and love were young,

And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee, and be thiy love.
But time drives flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb,
And all complain of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter's reckoning yield;
A honey tongue-a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cup, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw, and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs;
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.
Bat could youth last and love still breed,
Had joys no date--nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.

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, the body's guest,
Upon a thankless errand,
Fear not to touch the best,
The truth shall be thy warrant;

Go, since I needs must die,
And give the world the lie.

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Go, tell the court it glows,

And shines like rotten wood,
Go, tell the church it shows
What's good, and doth no good ;

If church and court reply,
Then give them both the lie.

Tell potentates, they live

Acting by others actions,
Not lov'd unless they give,
Not strong but by their factions.

If potentates reply,
Give potentates the lie.


Tell men of high condition,

That rule affairs of state,
Their purpose ambition,
Their practice only hate.

And if they once reply,

Then give them all the lie.
Tell them that brave it most,

They beg for more by spending,
Who in their greatest cost,
Seek nothing but commending,

And if they make reply,
Spare not to give the lie.

Tell zeal it lacks devotion,

Tell love it is but last, Tell time it is but motion, Tell flesh it is but dust.

And wish them not reply,

For thou must give the lie. Tell age it daily wasteth,

Tell honour how it alters, Tell beauty how she blasteth, Tell favour how she falters.

And as they shall reply

Give each of them the lie. Tell wit how much it wrangles

In tickle points of niceness; Tell wisdom she entangles Herself in over wiseness. And if they do reply,

Straight give them both the lie. Tell physic of her boldness,

Tell skill it is pretension, Tell charity of coldness, Tell law it is contention.

And as they yield reply,

So give them still the lie.
Tell fortune of her blindness,

Tell nature of decay,
Tell friendship of unkindness,
Tell justice of delay.

And if they dare reply,

Then give them all the lie. Tell arts they have no soundness,

But vary by esteeming,
Tell schools they want profoundness,
And stand too much on seeming.

If arts and schools reply,
Give arts and schools the lie.

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