And if e'er fhe makes a blot,

She's loft if that thou hit'ft her not.

He that, after ten denials,
Dares attempt no farther trials,
Hath no warrant to acquire

The dainties of his chafte defire.

IN

a grove

SONNET.

moft rich of shade,

Where birds wanton mufic made,

May, then young, his pied weeds showing,

New perfum'd, with flow'rs fresh growing,
Aftrophel, with Stella sweet,

Did for mutual comfort meet;
Both within themselves opprefs'd,

But each in the other blefs'd.

Him great harms had taught much care,
Her fair neck a foul yoke bare ;
But her fight his cares did banish,
In his fight her yoke did vanish.
Wept they had, alas, the while!
But now tears themselves did fmile;
Sigh they did, but now betwixt
Sighs of woe were glad fighs mix'd;
Their ears hungry of each word,
Which the dear tongue could afford.

"Stella! whofe voice, when it fingeth, Angels to acquaintance bringeth;

Stella, in whofe body is

Writ each character of blifs;

Whofe face all, all beauty paffeth,

Save thy mind, which that furpaffeth;
Grant-O grant-but speech, alas!
Fails me, fearing on to pass—
Grant, O dear, on knees I pray,
(Knees on ground he then did stay)
That not I, but, fince I love you,
Time and place for me may move you!
Never feason was more fit,

Never room more apt for it!
Smiling air allows my reason,

The birds fing,
66 now use the season,"
This fmall wind, which so sweet is,
See how it the leaves doth kifs;
And, if dumb things be fo witty,
Shall a heavenly grace want pity ?"

There, his hands, in their speech, fain Would have made tongue's language plain; But her hands, his hands repelling,

Gave repulse all grace excelling.

Then she spake; her speech was fuch

As not ears but heart did touch;
While in fuchwife fhe love denied

As yet love the fignified.

66

Aftrophel! (faid fhe) my love,

Cease in these effects to prove.

Now be ftill; yet, ftill believe me,

Thy grief more than death doth grieve me. If that any thought in me

Can tafte comfort, but of thee;

Let me feed with hellish anguish,

And joyless, helpless, endless languish!

If thofe eyes you praised, be
Half fo dear, as you to me,
Let me home return stark-blinded
Of those eyes, and blinder minded!
If to fecret of my heart,

I do any wifh impart,

Where thou art not foremost placed,
Be both wish and I defaced.

All

If more may be said, I say

my

life on thee I lay :

If thou love-my love content thee;
For, all love, all faith is meant thee.
Trust me, while I thee deny,

In myself the smart I try.

Tyrant honour thus doth use thee,
Stella's felf might not refuse thee.
Therefore, dear, this no more move,
Left, (though I leave not thy love,
Which too deep in me is framed)
I should blush when thou art named."

Therewithal, away fhe went;
Leaving him by paffion rent

With what she had done and spoken,
That therewith my fong is broken.

ONLY

SONNET.

NLY joy, now here you are,
Fit to hear and ease my care;
Let my whispering voice obtain
Sweet reward, for sharpeft pain.

Take me to thee, and thee to me-
No, no, no, no, my dear, let be.

Night hath closed all in her cloak,
Twinkling ftars love-thoughts provoke,
Danger hence good care doth keep,
Jealoufy itself doth fleep.

Take me, &c.

Better place no wit can find,

Cupid's yoke to loose, or bind :

Thefe sweet flow'rs on fine bed too,

Us in their best language woo.

Take me, &c.

That

you heard was but a mouse:

Dumb fleep holdeth all the house:

Yet, asleep, methinks they say,

66

Young folks, take time while you may."
Take me, &c.

Your fair mother is abed,

Candles out, and curtains spread :
She thinks you do letters write;
Write, but let me first indite.
Take me, &c.

Sweet (alas!) why faine you thus?
Concord better fitteth us;

Leave to Mars the force of hands,
Your pow'r in your beauty ftands.
Take me, &c.

Woe to me! and do you fwear
Me to hate! but I forbear!

Curfed be my deft'nies all,

That brought me to fo high a fall!

Soon with my death I will please thee.-
No! no! no! no! my dear, let be!

SONNET.

BECAUSE I breathe not love to every one,
Nor do not ufe fuch colours for to wear,
Nor nourish special locks of vowed hair,
Nor give each speech a full point of a groan;
The courtly nymphs, acquainted with the moan
Of them, who in their lips love's standards bear
Where he? (fay they of me) now dare I swear
He cannot love! No, no; let him alone.