That there was curiosity and cunning,
Concord and discord, lines of differing method,
Meeting in one full centre of delight.
Amet. Now for the bird.
Music's first martyr, strove to imitate
Those several sounds; which when her warbling throat
Failed in, for grief down dropped she on his lute,
And brake her heart. It was the quaintest sadness,
To see the conqueror upon her hearse
To weep a funeral elegy of tears;
That, trust me, my Amethus, I could chide
Mine own unmanly weakness that made me
A fellow-mourner with him.
Men. He looked upon the trophies of his art,
Then sighed, then wiped his eyes, then sighed and cried, Alas, poor creature! I will soon revenge
This cruelty upon the anthor of it;
Henceforth this lute, guilty of innocent blood,
Shall never more betray a harmless peace
To an untimely end."
LIV. GEORGE WITHER.
For many books I care not, and my store
Might now suffice me though I had no more
Than God's two Testaments, and then withal
That mighty volume which the world we call;
For these well look'd on, well in mind preserved,
The present age's passages observed;
My private actions seriously o'erview'd,
My thoughts recall'd and what of them ensued,
Are books which better far instruct me can
Than all the other paper-works of man;
And some of these I may be reading too
Where'er I come or whatsoe'er I do.
2. SONG: WHAT CARE I &C.
Shall I, wasting in despair,
Die because a woman's fair?
Or make pale my cheeks with care
'Cause another's rosy are?
Be she fairer than the day,
Or the flowery meads in May,
If she be not so to me,
What care I how fair she be?
Shall my foolish heart be pined
'Cause I see a woman kind?
Or a well-disposéd nature
Joinéd with a lovely feature?
Be she meeker, kinder, than
The turtle-dove or pelican:
If she be not so to me,
What care I how kind she be?
Shall a woman's virtue move
Me to perish for her love?
Or, her well-deservings known,
Make me quite forget mine own?
Be she with that goodness blest,
Which may merit name of Best;
If she be not such to me,
What care I how good she be ?
'Cause her fortune seems too high,
Shall I play the fool and die?
Those that bear a noble mind,
Where they want of riches find,
Think what with them they would do,
That without them dare to woo;
And unless that mind I see,
What care I how great she be ?
Great or good, or kind or fair,
I will ne'er the more despair;
If she love me, this believe;
I will die ere she shall grieve.
If she slight me when I woo,
I can scorn and let her go:
If she be not fit for me,
What care I for whom she be r
Sweet groves, to you!
You hills that highest dwell,
And all you humble vales, adieu !
You wanton brooks and solitary rocks,
My dear companions all, and you, my tender flocks! Farewell, my pipe! and all those pleasing songs whose moDelighted once the fairest nymphs that dance upon the You discontents, whose deep and over-deadly smart Have without pity broke the truest heart, Sighs, tears, and every sad annoy, That erst did with me dwell, And others joy, Farewell!
Though I miss the flow'ry fields,
With those sweets the spring-tide yields :
Though I may not see those groves,
Where the shepherds chaunt their loves,
And the lasses more excel,
Than the sweet-voiced Philomel;
Though of all those pleasures past,
Nothing now remains at last,
But remembrance, poor relief,
That more makes than mends my grief:
She's my mind's companion still
Maugre envy's evil will;
(Whence she should be driven too,
Wer't in mortals' power to do)
She doth tell me where to borrow
Comfort in the midst of sorrow;
Makes the desolatest place,
To her presence be a grace;
And the blackest discontents,
Be her fairest ornaments.
my former days of bliss,
Her divine skill taught me this,
That from every thing I saw,
I could some invention draw,
And raise pleasure to its height
Through the meanest object's sight.
By the murmur of a spring,
Or the least bough's rustling;
By a daisy whose leaves spread,
Shut when Titan goes to bed,
Or a shady bush or tree
She could more infuse in me,
Than all nature's beauties can
In some other wiser man.
A time draws nigh in which you may
As you shall please the chess-men play;
Remove, confine, check, leave, or take,
Dispose, depose, undo, or make,
Pawn, rook, knight, bishop, queen or king,
And act your wills in every thing:
But, if that time let slip you shall,
For yesterday in vain you call.
A time draws nigh in which the sun
Will give more light than he hath done:
Then also shall see the moon
Shine brighter than the sun at noon:
And many stars now seeming dull
Give shadows like the moon at full.
Yet then shall some, who think they see,
Wrapt in Egyptian darkness be.
A time draws nigh when with your
You shall preserve the viper's brood,
And starve your own; yet fancy than
That you have played the pelican;
But when you think the frozen snakes
Have changed their natures for
They, in requital, will contrive
Your mischief who did them revive.
A time will come when they that wake Shall dream; and sleepers undertake
The grand affairs: yet, few men know
Which are the dreamers of these two;
And fewer care by which of these
They guided be, so they have ease:
But an alarum shall advance
Your drowsy spirits from that trance.
A time shall come ere long in which
Mere beggars shall grow soonest rich;
The rich with wants be pinchéd more
Than such as go from door to door:
The honourable by the base
Shall be despited to their face;
The truth defamèd be with lies:
The fool preferred before the wise;
And he that fighteth to be free,
By conquering enslaved shall be.
A time will come when see you shall
Toads fly aloft and eagles crawl;
Wolves walk abroad in human shapes;
Men turn to asses, hogs, and apes:
But, when that cursed time is come,
Well's he that is both deaf and dumb ;
That nothing speaketh, nothing hears,
And neither hopes, desires, nor fears.
LV. THOMAS CAREW.
1. APPROACH OF SPRING.
Now that the winter's gone, the earth hath lost
Her snow-white robes, and now no more the frost
Candies the grass, or calls an icy cream
Upon the silver lake, or crystal stream:
But the warm sun thaws the benumbèd earth,
And makes it tender; gives a second birth
To the dead swallow; wakes in hollow tree
The drowsy cuckoo, and the humble bee:
Now do a choir of chirping minstrels bring
In triumph to the world the youthful spring.
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