COME

XXXVI

TO HIS LOVE

away, come sweet Love,

The golden morning breakes:

All the earth, all the ayre
Of love and pleasure speakes.
Teach thine armes then to embrace,
And sweet rosie lips to kisse:

And mix our soules in mutual blisse.
Eyes were made for beautie's grace,
Viewing, ruing love's long paine :
Procur'd by beautie's rude disdaine.

Come away, come sweet Love,
The golden morning wasts:
While the sunne from his sphere
His fierie arrowes casts,
Making all the shadowes flie,
Playing, staying in the grove,
To entertaine the stealth of love.
Thither, sweet love, let us hie

Flying, dying, in desire,

Wing'd with sweet hopes and heavenly fire.

Come away, come sweet Love,

Doe not in vaine adiorne

Beautie's grace that should rise,

Like to the naked morne.

Lillies on the river's side,

And faire Cyprian flowers newe blowne
Desire no beauties but their owne.

Ornament is nurse of pride,

Pleasure, measure, Love's delight:

Haste then, sweet Love, our wished flight.

XXXVII

ANON.

A WARNING FOR WOOERS

SOME love for wealth and some for hue,
And none of both these loves are true;
For when the mill hath lost her sailes,
Then must the miller lose his vailes :

Of grass comes hay,

And flowers faire will soon decay :

Of ripe comes rotten,

In age all beautie is forgotten.

Some love too high and some too lowe,
And of them both great griefs do growe;
And some do love the common sort,

And common folk use common sport.

Look not too high,

Lest that a chip fall in thine eye :

But high or lowe,

Ye may be sure she is a shrewe.

But, sirs, I use to tell no tales,

Each fish that swims doth not bear scales;

In every hedge I find not thornes,

Say crow is white, and snow is black,
Lay not the fault on woman's back:

Thousands were good,

But few scap'd drowning in Noe's flood:

Most are well bent,

I must say so, lest I be spent.

ANON.

XXXVIII

A MARRIAGE BLESSING

VERTUE, if not a God, yet God's chiefe part,
Be thou the knot of this their open vow,
That still he be her head, she be his heart;
He leane to her, she unto him doe bow,
Each other still allow ;

Like oak and misletoe,

Her strength from him, his praise from her doe growe; In which most lovely traine,

O Hymen, long their coupled joyes maintaine!

XXXIX

SIR P. SIDNEY.

A BRIDAL SONG

ROSES, their sharpe spines being gone,
Not royal in their smells alone,

But in their hue;

Maiden-pinkes, of odour faint,

Daisies smel-lesse, yet most quaint,
And sweet thyme true;

Primrose, first-born child of Ver,
Merry spring-time's harbinger,
With her bells dimme;
Oxlips, in their cradles growing,
Marigolds, on death-beds blowing,
Lark-heeles trimme.

All dear Nature's children sweete,
Lie 'fore bride and bridegroome's feet,

Blessing their sense.

Not an angel of the aire,

Bird melodious, or bird faire,

Is absent hence.

The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor
The boding raven, nor chough hoar,
Nor chattring pie,

May on our bride-house perch or sing,
Or with them any discord bring,

But from it fly.

J. FLETCHER.

XL

ROSALIND'S MADRIGAL

LOVE in my bosome, like a bee,

Doth sucke his sweete:

Now with his wings he playes with me,
Now with his feete:

Within mine eyes he makes his nest,

His bed amidst my tender breast,

My kisses are his daily feast,

And yet he robs me of my rest.

Ah, wanton, will ye?

And if I sleepe, then percheth he

With pretty flight:

And makes his pillow of my knee

The live-long night.