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And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care, To descant on the doubts of my decay. 'Farewell, quoth she, and come again to morrow; '

Farewell, I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow. Yet at my parting sweetly she did smile, In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether: 'Tmay be, she joy'd to jest at my exile, 'Tmay be, again to make me wander thither:

Wander, a word for shadows like myself, As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf. XIII. Lord, how mine eyes threw gazes to the east! My heart doth charge the watch; the morning

rise

Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,
While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,
And wish her lays were tuned like the lark;
For she doth welcome day-light with her ditty,
And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night:
The night so pack'd. I post unto my pretty;
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight;
Sorrow changed to solace, solace mix'd with

sorrow;

For why? she sighed and bade me come to-mor

row.

Were I with her, the night would post too soon;
But now are minutes added to the hours;
To spite me now, each minute seems a moon;
Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers!
Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now
borrow;
Short night, to-night, and length thyself to-mor-
XIV.
It was a lordling's daughter, the fairest one
three,

row.

That liked of her master as well as well might be, Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest that eye could see, Her fancy fell a turning. Long was the combat doubtful that love with love did fight, To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant knight:

To put in practice either, alas it was a spite
Unto the silly damsel.

But one must be refused morn mickle was the

of

pain,

That nothing could be used, to turn them both to

gain,

For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with

disdain. Alas, she could not help it!

Thus art with arms coutending was victor of the

day,

Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid

away;

Then lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady

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Take counsel of some wiser head,
Neither too young, nor yet unwed.'
And when thou comest thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,
Lest she some subtle practice smell;
(A cripple soon can find a halt:)

But plainly say thou lovest her well,
And set her person forth to sell.
What though her frowning brows be bent,
Her cloudy looks will calm ere night;
And then too late she will repent,
That she dissembled her delight;

And twice desire, ere it be day,

That which such scorn she put away.
What though she strive to try her strength,
And ban and brawl, and say thee nay,
Her feeble force will yield at length,
When craft hath taught her thus to say;-
'Had women been so strong as men,
In faith you had not had it then.'
And to her will frame all thy ways;
Spare not to spend-and chiefly there
Where thy desert may merit praise,
By ringing in thy lady's ear:

The strongest castle, tower, and town,
The golden bullet beats it down.
Serve always with assured trust,
And in thy suit be humble, true;
Unless thy lady prove unjust,
Press thou never to choose anew:

When time shall serve, be thou not slack To proffer, though she put thee back. The wiles and guiles that women work, Dissembled with an outward show, The tricks and toys that in them lurk, The cock that treads them shall not know.

Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for nought? Think women still to strive with men, To sin, and never for to saint: There is no heaven, by holy then, When time with age shall them attaint. Were kisses all the joys in bed, One woman would another wed.

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But soft; enough too much I fear,
Lest that my mistress hear my song;
She'll not stick to round me i' th' ear,
To teach my tongue to he so long:

Yet will she blush, here be it said,
To hear her secrets so bewrayed.
XVIII

As it fell upon a day,
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made,
Beasts did leap, and birds did sing,
Trees did grow, and plants did spring:
Every thing did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone:
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn,
And there sung the dolefull'st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity:
Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry,
Teru, Teru, by and by:
That to hear her so complain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain;
For her griefs, so lively shewn,
Made me think upon mine own.
Ah! (thought I) thou mourn'st in vain;
None take pity on thy pain:

Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee:
Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee;
King Pandion, he is dead;

All thy friends are lapp'd in lead:
All thy fellow birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing.
Even so, poor bird, like thee,
None alive will pity me.
Whilst as fickle fortune smiled
Thou and I were both beguiled,
Every one that flatters thee,
Is no friend in misery.
Words are easy; like the wind,
Faithful friends are hard to find.
Every man, will be thy friend,
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend;
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want,
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call;
And with such like flattering,

Pity but he were a king.'
If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice,
If to women he be bent,
They have him at commandment;
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown:
They that fawn'd on him before,
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need;
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep:
Thus of every grief in heart
He with thee doth bear thee part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.
XIX.
Take, oh, take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn;

But by my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.
Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
On whose tops the pinks that grow,
Are of those that April wears.

But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those icy chains by thee.

XX.

Let the bird of loudest lay,
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.
But thou shrieking harbinger,
Foul pre-curor of the fiend,
Augur of the fever's end,

To this troop come thou not near!
From this session interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle, feather'd king;
Keep the obsequy so strict.
Let the priest in surplice white,
That defunctive music can,
Be the death divining swan,
Lest the requiem lack his right.
And thou, treble-dated crow,
That thy sable gender makest
With the breath thou givest and takest,
'Mengst our mourners shalt thou go.

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Here the anthem doth commence :-
Love and constancy is dead;
Phoenix and the turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.
So they loved, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none:
Number there in love was sla'n.

Hearts remove, yet not asunder;
Distance, and not space was seen
'Twixt the turtle and his queen!
But in them it were a wonder.
So between them love did shine,
That the turtle saw his right
Flaming in the phoenix' sight:
Either was the other's mine.

Property was thus appall'd,
That the self was not the same;
Single nature's double name
Neither two nor one was call'd.
Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together;
To themselves yet either-neither,
Simple were so well compounded;

A LOVER'S COMPLAINT.

FROM off a hill whose concave womb re-worded| A plaintful story from a sistering vale, My spirits to attend this double voice accorded, And down I lay to list the sad-tuned tale: Ere long espy'd a fickle maid full pale, Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain, Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain.

Upon her head a platted hive of straw, Which fortified her visage from the suu, Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw The carcase of a beauty spent and done. Time had not scythed all that youth begun, Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage, Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age.

Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, Which on it had conceited characters, Laund'ring the silken figures in the brine That season'd woe had pelleted in tears, And often reading what contents it bears; As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe, In clamours of all size, both high and low.

Sometimes her levell'd eyes their carriage ride, As they did battery to the spheres intend; Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied To the orbed earth; sometimes they do extend Their view right on; anon their gazes lend To every place at once, and no where fix'd, The mind and sight distractedly commix'd.

Her hair, nor loose, nor tied in formal plait, Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride; For some, untuck'd, descended her sheaved hat, Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside; Some in her threaden fillet still did bide,

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And, true to bondage, would not break from thence, Though slackly braided in loose negligence.

A thousand favours from a maund she drew Of amber, crystal, and of bedded jet, Which one by one she in a river threw, Upon whose weeping margent she was set;Like usury, applying wet to wet, Or monarch's hands, that let not bounty fall Where want cries some, but where excess begs all. Of folded schedules had she many a one, Which she perused, sigh'd, tore, and gave the flood; Crack'd many a ring of posied gold and bone, Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud; Found yet more letters sadly penn'd in blood, With sleided silk feat and affectedly Enswath'd, and seal'd to curious secrecy.

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These often bathed she in her fluxive eyes, And often kiss'd, and often 'gan to tear; Cried, O false blood! thou register of lies, What unapproved witness dost thou bear! Ink would have seem'd more black and damned here! This said, in top of rage the lines she rents; Big discontent so breaking their contents.

A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh, (Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew Of court, of city, and had let go by The swiftest hours) observed as they flew; Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew; And, privileged by age, desires to know In brief, the grounds and motives of her woe.

So slides he down upon his grained bat, And comely-distant sits he by her side; When he again desires her, being sat, Her grievance with his hearing to divide: If that from him there may be aught applied Which may her suffering ecstacy assuage, 'Tis promised in the charity of age.

Father, she says, though in me you behold
The injury of many a blasting hour,
Let it not tell your judgment I am old;
Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power:
I might as yet have been a spreading flower,
Fresh to myself, if I had self-applied
Love to myself, and to no love beside.

But woe is me! too early I attended
A youthful suit (it was to gain my grace)
Of one by nature's outwards so commended,
That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face;
Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place;
And when in his fair parts she did abide,
She was new lodged, and newly deified.

His browny locks did hang in crooked curls;
And every light occasion of the wind
Upon his lips their silkeu parcels hurls.
What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find:
Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind;
For on his visage was in little drawn,
What largeness thinks in Paradise was sawn.

Small show of man was yet upon his chin;
His phoenix down began but to appear,
Like unshorn velvet, on that termless skin,
Whose bare out-bragg'd the web it seem'd to wear;
Yet shew'd his visage by that cost most dear;
And nice affections wavering stood in doubt,
If best 'twere as it was, or best without.

Well could he ride; and often men would say, "That horse his mettle from his rider takes: Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!"

And controversy hence a question takes,
Whether the horse by him became his deed,
Or he his manage by the well-doing steed,

But quickly on this side the verdict went;
His real habitude gave life and grace
To appertainings and to ornament,
Accomplish'd in himself, not in his case:
All aids, themselves made fairer by their place,
Came for additions; yet their purposed trim
Pieced not his grace, but were all graced by him.

And labouring in more pleasures to bestow them, Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them.

That we must curb it upon others' proof,
Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood,
To be forbid the sweets that seem so good,
For fear of harms that preach in our behoof.
O appetite, from judgment stand aloof!
His qualities were beauteous as his form, The one a palate hath that needs will taste,
For maiden-tongued he was, and therefore free; Though reason weep, and cry-it is thy last.
Yet, if men moved him, was he such a storm
For further I could say, this man's untrue,
As oft 'twixt May and April is to see,
And knew the patterns of his soul beguiling;
When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be. Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew,
His rudeness so with his authorized youth
Did livery falseness in a pride of truth.

Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling,
Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling,
Thought, characters, and words, merely but art,
And bastards of his foul adulterate heart.

So on the tip of his subduing tongue
All kind of arguments and question deep,
All replication prompt, and reason strong,
For his advantage still did wake and sleep:
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep;
He had the dialect and different skill,
Catching all passions in his craft of will;

So many have, that never touch'd his hand,
Sweetly supposed them mistress of his heart.
My woeful self, that did in freedom stand,
Aud was my own fee-simple, (not in part)
What with his art in youth, and youth in art,
Threw my affections in his charmed power,
Reserved the stalk, and gave him all my flower.

That he did in the general bosom reign,
Of young, of old; and sexes both euchanted,
To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain
In personal duty, following where he haunted:
Consents, bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted;
And dialogued for him what he would say,
Ask'd their own wills, and made their wills obey.

Yet did I not, as some my equals did,
Demand of him, nor being desired, yielded;
Finding myself in honour so forbid,
With safest distance I mine honour shielded:
Experience for me many bulwarks builded
Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain'd the foil
Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil.

Many there were that did his picture get,
To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind;
Like fools that in the imagination set
The goodly objects which abroad they find
Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assign'd;

But ah! whoever shunn'd by precedent
The destined ill she must herself assay?
Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content,
To put the by-pass'd perils in her way?
Counsel may stop a while what will not stay;
For when we rage, advice is often seen
By blunting us to make our wits more keen.

And long upon these terms I held my city,
Till thus he 'gan besiege me: "Gentle maid,
Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity,
And be not of my holy vows afraid:
That's to you sworn, to none was ever said;
For feasts of love I have been call'd unto,
Till now did ne'er invite, nor never vow.

All my offences that abroad you see,
Are errors of the blood, none of the mind:
Love made them not; with acture they may be,
Where neither party is nor true nor kind:
They sought their shame that so their shame did

find;

And so much less of shame in me remains,
By how much of me their reproach contains.

'Among the many that mine eyes have seen,
Not one whose flame my heart so much as warm'd.
Or my affection put to the smallest teen,
Or any of my leisures ever charm'd:

Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harm'd;
Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free;
And reign'd, commanding in his monarchy.

'Look here what tributes wounded fancies sent
me,

Of paled pearls, and rubies red as blood;
Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me
Of grief and blushes, aptly understood
In bloodless white and the encrimson'd mood;
Effects of terror and dear modesty,
Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly.

And lo! behold these talents of their hair, With twisted metal amorously impleach'd,

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