Come live with mee, and bee my love;
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and christall brookes,
With filken lines, and silver hookes.
There will the river whispring runne, 5
Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the sunne ;
And there th’inamor'd fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.
When thou wilt swimme in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channell hath,
Will amourously to thee swimme,
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.
If thou to be so seene beeft loath
By sunne or moone, thou darkneft both;
And if my felfe have leave to see,
I need not their light, having thee.
* Born 1573; dyed 1631.-This song is in imitation of a fill more beautiful one by Christopber Marlore, beginning with the same line.
Let others freez with angling reeds,
And cut their legges with lels and weeds,
Or treacherously poore fish beset,
With strangling snare, or windowie net :
Let coarse bold hands from slimy neft
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest,
Or curious traitors, fleave filke flies,
Bewitch poore files wandring eyes:
For thee, thou needit no such deceit,
For thou thy selfe art thine owne baite z
That fish, that is not catch'd thereby,
Alas! is wiser farre than I.
BY BENJAMIN JONSON,
POET LAUREAT.*
ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE, SISTER
TO SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.
Underneath this marble herse
Lies the subject of all verse,
Sidney's fifter, Pembroke's mother;
Death, ere thou hast sain another,
Learn'd, and fair, and good as she,
Time shall throw his dart at thee.
Doe, pious marble, let thy readers knowe,
What they, and what their children, owe
To Draiton's name, whose facred duft
Wee recommend unto thy truft:
Protect his mem'ry, and preserve his storye,
Remaine a lasting monument of his glorye :
And when thy ruines shall disclame
To be the treas'rer of his name,
His name, that cannot fade, shall be
An everlafting monument to thee.
TO HIS SON, VINCENT CORBET.
BY RICHARD CORBET, BISHOP OF NORWICH.*
What I shall leave thee none can tell,
But all shall say I wilh thee well :
I wish thee (Vin) before all wealth,
Both bodily and ghostly health:
Nor too much wealth, nor wit, come to thee,
So much of either may undo thee. 6
I wish thee learning, not for show,
Enough for to instruct; and know;
Not such as gentlemen require,
To prate at table or at fire.
I wish thee all thy mothers graces,
Thy fathers fortunes, and his places.
I wish thee friends, and one at court,
Not to build on, but support ;
To keep thee, not in doing many 1,5
Oppressions, but from suffering any.
I wish thee peace in all thy ways,
Nor lazy, nor contentious days;
And, when thy soul and body part,
As innocent as now thou art,
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