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Silence in love betrays more woe

Than words, though ne'er fo witty;
A beggar that is dumb, you know,
May challenge double pity.
Then wrong not, dearest to my heart,
My love for fecret paffion;
He smarteth most who hides his smart,
And fues for no compaffion.

THE SHEPHERD's DESCRIPTION of LOVE.

66

SHEPHERD, what's love? I pray thee, tell!" It is that fountain, and that well,

Where pleasure and repentance dwell;
It is, perhaps, that fauncing bell
That tolls us all to heav'n or hell;
And this is love, as. I heard tell.

"Yet, what is love? I pray thee, fay!" It is a work on holiday;

It is December match'd with May,

When lufty woods, in fresh array,

Hear, ten months after, of the play;

And this is love, as I hear say.

"Yet, what is love? good shepherd, faine?”

It is a funshine mix'd with rain;

It is a tooth-ach, or like pain;
It is a game where none doth gain,

N

The lafs faith, No, and would full fain!
And this is love, as I hear faine.

"Yet, fhepherd, what is love, I pray?"

It is a yea, it is a nay,

A pretty kind of sporting fray;

It is a thing will foon away;

Then, nymphs, take 'vantage while ye may,

And this is love, as I hear say.

"Yet, what is love? good fhepherd, show!"
A thing that creeps, it cannot go,
A prize that paffeth to and fro,
A thing for one, a thing for moe;
And he that proves fhall find it fo;
And, fhepherd, this is love I trow.

VERSES

FOUND IN HIS BIBLE.

EVEN fuch is time; which takes in truft
Our youth, our joys, and all we have!
And pays us nought but age and duft,
Which, in the dark and filent grave,
When we have wander'd all our ways,
Shuts up the ftory of our days.

And from which grave, and earth, and duft,
The Lord fhall raife me up, I trust.

P

IMITATION OF MARLOW.

COME live with me, and be

my

And we will revel all the year,

dear,

In plains and groves, on hills and dales, Where fragrant air breeds fweeteft gales.

There fhall you have the beauteous pine,
The cedar and the spreading vine,
And all the woods to be a fkreen,
Left Phebus kifs my fummer's green.

The feat at your disport shall be,
Over fome river, in a tree,

Where filver fands, and pebbles, fing

Eternal ditties with the fpring.

There shall you see the nymphs at play,

And how the fatyrs spend the day;

The fishes gliding on the fands,

Offering their bellies to

your hands.

The birds with heavenly-tuned throats, Poffefs wood's echo with fweet notes; Which to your fenfes will impart

A mufic to inflame the heart.

Upon the bare and leafless oak,
The ring-dove's wooings will provoke
A colder blood than you poffefs,
To play with me, and do no less.

In bowers of laurel, trimly dight,
We will outwear the filent night,
While Flora bufy is to spread
Her richest treasure on our bed.

Ten thousand glow-worms fhall attend, And all their sparkling lights shall spend, All to adorn and beautify

Your lodging with more majesty

Then in mine arms will I inclofe
Lily's fair mixture with the rose;
Whofe nice perfections in love's play
Shall tune me to the highest key.

Thus, as we pass the welcome night
In fportful pleasures and delight,
The nimble fairies on the grounds
Shall dance and fing melodious founds.

If these may serve for to entice
Your prefence to love's paradife,
Then come with me, and be my dear,
And we will ftraight begin the year.

JAMES I.

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