Glossary.

Bin (Wishes): are.

Complaining (Music's Duel): lamenting.

Composures (Upon Two Green Apricots): compositions. Embraves (Sospetto d' Herode): adorns or brightens.

Fond (Sospetto d'Herode, etc.): foolish.

Gladding (Sospetto d'Herode): enlivening.

Grutch (Music's Duel): grumble.

Illustrious (Foul Morning, etc.): lustrous.

Instile (Foul Morning): instill.

Mistress (Wishes): lover.

Owe (Cupid's Crier): own.

Perspicil (Isaacson's Chronology): optic glass.
Prefer (Music's Duel): to offer or present.
Prevents (Music's Duel): anticipates.
Rampant (Wishes): predominant, obstrusive.

Strook (Sospetto d'Herode): struck.

Suspect (Sospetto d' Herode): suspicion.

Taffeta (Wishes): a sort of thin silk. Tire (Sospetto d' Herode): head-dress. -(Wishes): dress.

Tissue (Wishes): ribband.

Inder to the First Lines.

A Brook, whose stream so great, so good
A drop, one drop, how sweetly one fair drop
All Hybla's honey, all that sweetness can
All trees, all leafy groves confess the Spring
All we have is God's, and yet

And now thou 'rt set wide ope, the spear's sad art

A plant of noble stem, forward and fair

As if the storm meant him

Britain! the mighty Ocean's lovely bride!

Christ bids the dumb tongue speak; it speaks; the sound

Come and let us live, my dear

Come death, come bonds, nor do you shrink, my ears

Could not once blinding me, cruel, suffice?

Death, what dost? O, hold thy blow

Each blest drop on each blest limb

Faithless and fond Mortality

Four teeth thou hadst that rank'd in goodly state

Go, smiling souls, your new-built cages break
Happy me! O happy sheep!

Is murder no sin? or a sin so cheap

I would be married, but I'd have no wife

Know you, fair, on what you look?

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Let hoary Time's vast bowels be the grave
Let it no longer be a forlorn hope

Lo here the fair Chariclia! in whom strove

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Love now no fire hath left him

'Midst all the dark and knotty snares

Muse! now the servant of soft loves no more
Now, Lord, or never, they'll believe on Thee
Now westward Sol had spent the richest beams
O mighty Nothing! unto thee

One eye? a thousand rather, and a thousand more

On the proud banks of great Euphrates' flood

O these wakeful wounds of Thine

Pallas saw Venus armed, and straight she cried
Passenger, whoe'er thou art

Rich Lazarus! richer in those gems, thy tears
Rise heir of fresh Eternity

Rise, then, immortal maid! Religion, rise!
See here an easy feast that knows no wound
Seen? and yet hated Thee? they did not see
Show me Himself, Himself (bright Sir), O show
Take these, Time's tardy truants, sent by me
Tell me, bright boy, tell me, my golden lad
That on her lap she casts her humble eye
The modest front of this small floor

The smiling Morn had newly waked the Day
The world's Light shines; shine as it will

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Thou cheat'st us, Ford; mak'st one seem two by Art

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Thou hast the art on't, Peter, and canst tell -
Thou spak'st the word (Thy word's a law)

Thou trimm'st a Prophet's tomb, and dost bequeath

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This reverend shadow cast that setting sun