F I FREELY MAY DISCOVER IF What would please me in my lover : I would have her fair and witty, Savouring more of Court than City; A little proud, but full of pity; Light and humorous in her toying, Oft building hopes, and soon destroying, Long but sweet in the enjoying : Neither too easy nor too hard, All extremes I would have barr'd. She should be allow'd her passions, So they were but used as fashions : Sometimes froward, and then frowning; Sometimes sickish, and then swouning; Every fit with change still crowning : Purely jealous I would have her, Then only constant when I crave her : 'Tis a virtue should not save her. Thus, nor her delicates would cloy me, Nor her peevishness annoy me. F your HER MAN trouble, BEN! to ease me, Of will tell what man would please me. I would have him, if I could, And his manners of that nation. In Love's school, and yet no sinners. In a body should be there; Well he should his clothes too wear, Yet no tailor help to make him,— Dress'd, you still for a man should take him, And not think he had eat a stake All his actions to be such As to do no thing too much,- I can rest me where I am. IN THE PERSON OF WOMANKIND MEN! if you love us, play no more The fools or tyrants with your friends, Our own false praises, for your ends : Nor do we doubt but that we can, If we would search with care and pain, Find some one good in some one man; So, going thorough all your strain, We shall at last of parcels make One good enough for a song's sake. And as a cunning painter takes, In any curious piece you see, More pleasure while the thing he makes BEGGING ANOTHER 'OR LOVE'S SAKE kiss me once again! FOR I long and should not beg in vain ; Here 's none to spy thee: Why do you doubt or stay? I'll taste as lightly as the bee, That doth but touch his flower and flies away. One more! and, 'faith, I will be gone : Can he that loves ask less than one? Nay! you may err in this And all your bounty wrong: This could be call'd but half a kiss ; What were but once to do we should do long. I will but mend the last, and tell Each suck the other's breath, And whilst our tongues perplexed lie Let who will think us dead, or wish our death. SONG OF SATYRS A CATCH UZZ! quoth the Blue-Fly, In his ear in his nose! Thus, do you see? They tickle them. He eat the Dormouse Else it was he. THOU HER GLOVE HOU more than most sweet Glove Suffer me to store with kisses |