Life works in vain where Death will master be ; Who then shall weep-nay, who shall tears refrain, FROM WIT'S RECREATIONS ON A BEAUTIFUL VIRGIN N THIS MARBLE buried lies IN Beauty may enrich the skies, Sweeter than Aurora's air, Chaster than the virgin Spring, If such goodness live 'mongst men, But if not, ye standers by! Am the next design'd to die. ON CHLORIS WALKING IN THE SNOW I SAW FAIR CHLORIS walk alone ON HIS MISTRESS Y LOVE and I for kisses play'd, MY She would keep stakes, I was content,— This made me ask her what she meant. Saith she-Since you are in this wrangling vein, FROM WIT RESTORED PHILLADA OH! WHAT a pain is love: How shall I bear it? She will unconstant prove, She so torments my mind, All the fair yesterday But could not get her; Fair maid! be not so coy, Do not disdain me ! I am my mother's joy : A pair of mattrass beds, She hath a clout of mine, Wrought with blue coventry, Which she keeps for a sign Of my fidelity: She shall not wear it ; To Tib, my t' other wench, And yet it grieves my heart So soon from her to part: Death strike me with his dart! Phillada flouts me. Thou shalt eat crudded cream All the year lasting, Pleasant in tasting, And ramble-berries, Pie-lid and pastry crust, Pears, plums, and cherries; Thy raiment shall be thin, Fair maiden! have a care, I can have those as fair, Laugh'd at me lately, And wanton Winifred Favours me greatly. One throws milk on my clothes, T'other plays with my nose: What wanting signs are those! Phillada flouts me. I can not work nor sleep Love wounds my heart so deep, I 'gin to pine away In my Love's shadow, Like as a fat beast may Penn'd in a meadow. I shall be dead, I fear, Phillada flouts nie. |