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Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep :

Hesperus entreats thy light,

Goddess excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade

Dare itself to interpose ;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heav'n to clear, when day did close :

Bless us then with wished sight,

Goddess, excellently bright.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,

And thy crystal shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever :
Thou that mak’st a day of night,
Goddess, excellently bright.

Drink to me only with thine eyes,

And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss within the cup,

And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise,

Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,

Not so much honouring thee,
As giving it a hope that there

It could not wither'd be:
But thou thereon didst only breathe,

And sent'st it back to me,
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,

Not of itself but thee.

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It is not growing like a tree

In bulk doth make men better be,
Or standing like an oak three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere,


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A lily of a day

Is fairer far than they,
Although it fall and die that night:

It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauties see,
And in short measure life may perfect be.


CUPID'S PASTIME. It chanced of late a shepherd swain,

That went to seek his straying sheep,
Within a thicket on a plain

Espied a dainty nymph asleep.
Her golden hair o'erspread her face;

Her careless arms abroad were cast;
Her quiver had her pillow's place;

Her breast lay bare to every blast. The shepherd stood and gazed his fill;

Naught durst he do; naught durst he say, Whilst chance, or else perhaps his will,

Did guide the god of love that way. The crafty boy that sees her sleep,

Whom if she waked he durst not gee; Behind her closely seeks to creep,

Before her nap should ended be. There come, he steals her shafts away,

And puts his own into their place; Nor dares he any longer stay,

But, ere she wakes, hies thence apace. Scarce was he gone, but she awakes,

And spies the shepherd standing by : Her bended bow in haste she takes,

And at the simple swain lets fly. Forth flew the shaft, and pierced his heari,

That to the ground he fell with pain; Yet up again forthwith he start,

And to the nymph he ran amain.

Amazed to see so strange a sight,

She shot, and shot, but all in vain :
The more his wounds, the more his might,

Love yielded strength amid his pain.
Her angry eyes were great with tears,

She blames her hand, she blames her skill,
The bluntness of her shafts she fears,

And try them on herself she will.
Take heed, sweet nymph, try not thy shaft

Each little touch will pierce thy heart :
Alas! thou know'st not Cupid's craft;

Revenge is joy : the end is smart. Yet try she will, and pierce some bare;

Her hands were gloved, but next to hand
Was that fair breast, that breast so rare,

That made the shepherd senseless stand.
That breast she pierced; and through that breast

Love found an entry to her heart:
At feeling of this new-come guest,

Lord! how this gentle nymph did start! She runs not now; she shoots no more;

Away she throws both shafts and bow :
She seeks for what she shunned before,

She thinks the shepherd's haste too slow.
Though mountains meet not, lovers may ;
What other lovers do, did they :

The god of love sate on a tree,
And laughed that pleasant sight to see.


1. PIERO AND MARIA. Piero. Sit close unto my breast, heart of my love ; Advance thy drooping eyes. Thy son is drowned. Rich happiness that such a son is drowned. Thy husband's dead, life of my joys most blest, In that the sapless log, that pressed thy bed With an unpleasant weight, being lifted henen, E'en I Piero live to warm his place.

I tell
lady, had


viewed us both With an unpartial eye, when first we wooed Your maiden beauties, I had borne the prize ; 'Tis firm I had : for, fair, I ha' done that

Mar. Murder !

Pie. which he would quake to have adventur'd: Thou knowést I have— Mar.



husband ! Pie. Borne out the shock of war, and done, what not, That valour durst. Dost love me, fairest ? Say.

Mar. As I do hate my son, I love thy soul.

Pie. Why then, Io to Hymen! mount a loftier note. Fill red-cheek'd Bacchus, let Lyæus float In burnished goblets. Force the plump-lipped god; Skip light la-voltas in your full-sapped veins : 'Tis well brim full : e’en I have glut of blood : Let quaff carouse.

I drink this Bourdeau wine Unto the health of dead Andrugio, Feliche, Strozzo, and Antonio's ghosts. Would I'd some poison to infuse it with ; That having done this honour to the dead, I might send one to give them notice out. I would endear my favour to the full. Boy, sing aloud; make heaven's vault to ring With thy breath's strength. I drink : now loudly sing.

I cannot tell : 'tis now grown fashion ;
What's out of railing is out of fashion.
A man can scarce put on a tucked-up cap,
A buttoned frizado suit, scarce eat good meat,
Anchovies, caviari, but he's satired
And termed fantastical. By the muddy spawn
Of slimy newts, when troth, fantastickness-
That which the natural sophisters term
Phantasia incomplexais a function
E'en of the bright immortal part of man,
It is the common pass, the sacred door,
Unto the privy chamber of the soul ;
That barred, naught passeth past the baser court.
Of outward sense by it the inamorate



Wost lively thinks he sees the absent beauties
Of his loved mistress.
By it we shape a new creation
Of things as yet unborn : by it we feed
Our ravenous memory, our intention feast:
Slid he that's not fantastical's a beast.


Beat the broad gates a goodly hollow sound;
With double echoes, doth again rebound;
But not a dog doth bark to welcome thee,
Nor churlish porter canst thou chafing see.
All dumb and silent like the dead of night,
Or dwelling of soine sleepy Sybarite;
The marble pavement hid with desert weed,
With house-leek, thistle, dock, and hemlock seed.
Look to the tower'd chimneys, which should be
The wind-pipes of good hospitality,
Through which it breatheth to the open air,
Betok’ning life and liberal welfare.
Lo, there the unthankful swallow takes her rest,
And Sills the tunnel with her circled nest.

A gentle squire would gladly entertain
Into his house some teacher-chapelain ;
Some willing man that would instruct his sons,
And that would stand to good conditions.
First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed,
Whiles his young master lieth o'er his head.
Second, that he do, on no default,

presume to sit above the salt.
Third, that he never charge his trencher twice,
Fourth, that he use all common courtesies ;
Sit bare at meals, and one half rise and wait.
Last, that he never his young master beat,
But he must ask his mother to define,
How many jerkes she would his

breech should line.


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