Laftly, take o, in re ftands all my rest:
Which I in Chaucer's ftile do term a jeft,
Middleton's Family of Love.
Young mens love is like ivy, it must have
Somewhat to cleave to; or it never profpers.
Love is like fafting days, but the body
Is like flesh days; and it is our English
Gallants fashion, to preferr a morfel
Of flesh, before all the fafting days in the year.
1. In mine eye, he's a moft delicate youth; But in my heart, a thing that it would bleed for. z. Either your eye is blinded, or your remembrance Broken: Call to mind wherefore you came hither. 1. I do my lord, for love, and I am in profoundly. 2. You trifle fure; do you long for unripe
Fruit? 'Twill breed diseases in you.
1. Nothing but worms in my belly, and there's
A feed to expel them; in mellow falling
Fruit I find no relish:
2. 'Tis true, the youngest vines
Yields the moft clusters; but the old ever
The fweeteft grapes.
1. I can tafle of both, but with the old I
Am the fooneft cloy'd: The green keep still an
Edge on appetite.
Middleton's Any thing for a quiet Life.
Love is a god,
Strong, free, unbounded; and as fome define,
Fears nothing, pittieth none: Such love is mine.
Mafon's Muleaffes. For this is held a principle in schools;
Love makes not fools wife men, but wife men fools.
Cupid's Whirligig.
Who moft doth love, muft feem most to neglect it;
For those that fhew moft love, are leaft refpected.
John Cook's Green's Tu quoque.
For love, good mistress, is much like to wax,
The more 'tis rubb'd, it fticks the fafter to;
Or like a bird in bird-lime, or a pit-fall,
The more he labours, ftill the deeper in.
Love that is often crofs'd, at length obtain'd;
Is fweeter far than pleafure eas'ly gain'd.
Webfter and Rowley's Thracian Wonder.
Love is a law, a difcord of fuch force,
That, 'twixt our fenfe and reafon makes divorce:
Love's a defire that to obtain betime,
We lofe an age of years, pluck'd from our prime :
Love is a thing, to which we foon confent ;
As foon refufe, and fooner far repent.
Then what muft women be, that are the caufe
That love hath life? that lovers feel fuch laws?
They're like the winds upon Lapanthaes fhore,
That still are changing. Oh then love no more!
A woman's love, is like the Syrian flow'r,
That buds, and fpreads, and withers in an hour.
Webfter and Rowley's Thracian Wonder.
Such is the pofie, love composes;
A ftinging nettle mix'd with rofes.
Loves fire is of a nature, which by turns,
Confumes in prefence, and in abfence burns.
But where's the fortrefs that can love debar?
The forces to oppose when he makes war?
The watch which he fhall never find asleep?
The fpy that fhall difclofe his councils deep?
That fort, that force, that watch, that spy would be A lafting ftop to a fifth emperie :
But we as well may keep the heat from fire,
As fever hearts, whom love hath made entire.
Love is a region full of fires;
And burning with extreme defires :
An object feeks, of which poffeft,
The wheels are fix'd, the motions reft
The flames in ashes lie fuppreft.
This meteor striving high to rife,
The fewel spent, falls down and dies.
Sir John Beaumont.
1. Do not too much aggravate the crime,
Rather impute it to their childish love?
2. To love, my lords? if that were 'lowable,
What act fo vile, but might be fo excus❜d ?
The murd'rer that sheddeth innocent blood,
Might plead it was for love of his revenge:
The felon likewise, might excuse his theft,
With love of money; and the traytor too
Might fay, it was for love of fov'reignty:
And indeed all offenders fo might plead.
Swetnam the Woman Hater.
They fwell with love, that are with Valour fill'd; And Venus' doves may in a head-piece build.
Aleyn's Crefcey. Let us love temp❜rately, things violent laft not; And too much dotage rather argues folly,
Malfinger's Duke of Milan.
All men that are in love deal with the devil;
Only with this difference, he that dotes
Upon a woman, is abfolutely poffeft;
And he that loves the least, is haunted
With a familiar.
Thus can the flame of heav'n with fubtile art,
Leave the skin whole, yet quite confume the heart,
Love is above all law of nature, blood;
Not what men call, but what that bids, is good.
Shirley's Maid's Revenge.
Love, is, but a ftraggling from our reafon.
Shirley's Witty Fair One.
Love like to fin, inveterate, is ftrong;
He prevents danger, that deftroys it young.
Shirley's Witty Fair One. Panthers may hide their heads, not change the skin : And love pent ne'er fo close, yet will be seen.
John Ford's Lover's Melancholy:
Love's measure is extreme; the comfort, pain:
The life unreft; and the reward difdain.
John Ford's 'Tis pity fhe's a Whore.
Loves measure is the mean; fweet his annoys;
His pleasures life; and his reward all joys.
Love, I fee you will not entertain
Those that defire to live amidst your train :
For death and you have got a trick, to fly
From fuch poor wretches, as do wish you nigh:
You fcorn a yielding slave, and plainly shew it;
Those that contemn your power you make to know it.
Randolph.
For they may fay, that fay thou blind can't be,
Eagles want eyes, and only moles can fee.
Mark, how the bashful morn in vain
Courts the amorous marigold,
With fighing blafts, and weeping rain;
Yet the refufes to unfold :
But, when the planet of the day,
Approacheth with his pow'rful ray,
Then the fpreads, then she receives
His warmer beams into her virgin-leaves:
So fhalt thou thrive in love, fond boy:
If thy fighs and tears discover
Thy grief; thou never fhal't enjoy
The juft reward of a bold lover:
But when with moving accents thou
Shalt conftant faith, and fervice vow;
Thy Celia fhall receive thofe charms,
With open ears, and with unfolded arms,
Young men fly, when beauty darts
Amorous glances at your hearts;
The fix'd mark gives the shooter aim;
And ladies looks have pow'r to maim;
Now 'twixt their lips, now in their eyes,
Wrapt in a smile, or kif, love lies:
Then fly betimes, for only they
Conquer love, that run away.
As must be gain'd by free confent; not stealth.
Glapthorne's Albertus Wallenftein.
For though we care not for the lover, yet
We love the paffion: Though we scorn the off'ring,
We grieve to fee it thrown away; and envy
If confecrated to another. Woman
Hath no revenge 'gainft th' injury of custom,
Which gives man fuperiority, but thus,-
To fool him to subjection.
Habbington's Queen of Arragon.
Unmix'd as is the foul. The world perhaps
May judge a kingdom hath enamour'd me;
And that your titles dress you forth, to raise
My appetite up higher, Pardon, love,
If I grow envious ev'n of your fortune;
And that I'm forc'd to wifh, you had been daughter
Of fome poor mountain cottager, without
All dow'r but your own beauty: Then I might
Have fhew'd a flame untainted with ambition,
And courted you. But now the circumftance
Of greatnefs, feems to challenge more, than I
Have pow'r to give and working up my love,
I ferve my fortune.
Habbington's Queen of Arragon,
Love's kingdom is founded
Upon a parity; lord, and fubject,
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