ANTHEA laugh'd, and, fearing lest excess
Might stretch the cords of civil comeliness,
She with a dainty blush rebuked her face,
And call'd each line back to his rule and space.
LET fair or foul my mistress be,
Or low, or tall, she pleaseth me;
Or let her walk, or stand, or sit,
The posture her's, I'm pleased with it;
Or let her tongue be still, or stir,
Graceful is every thing from her;
Or let her grant, or else deny,
My love will fit each history.
GIVE me one kiss,
And no more :
If so be, this
Makes you poor
To enrich you,
I'll restore
For that one, two-
Thousand score.
CLEAR are her eyes,
Like purest skies;
Discovering from thence
A baby there
That turns each sphere,
Like an Intelligence.
HER pretty feet
Like snails did creep
A little out, and then,
As if they played at Bo-peep,
Did soon draw in again.
-AND, cruel maid, because I see
You scornful of my love, and me,
I'll trouble you no more, but go
My way, where you shall never know
What is become of me; there I
Will find me out a path to die,
Or learn some way how to forget
You and your name for ever ;—yet
Ere I go hence, know this from me,
What will in time your fortune be;
This to your coyness I will tell ;
And having spoke it once, Farewell.
--The lily will not long endure,
Nor the snow continue pure ;
The rose, the violet, one day
Sce both these lady-flowers decay;
And you must fade as well as they.
And it may chance that love may turn,
And, like to mine, make your heart burr
And weep to see't; yet this thing do,
That my last vow commends to you ;
When you shall see that I am dead,
For pity let a tear be shed;
And, with your mantle o'er me cast,
Give my cold lips a kiss at last ;
If twice you kiss, you need not fear
That I shall stir or live more here.
Next hollow out a tomb to cover
Me, me, the most despiséd lover;
And write thereon, This, reader, know:
Love kill'd this man.
but so
TO HIS MISTRESS, OBJECTING TO 111M NEITHER TOYING OR TALKING
You say I love not, 'cause I do not play
Still with your curls, and kiss the time away.
You blame me, too, because I can't devise
Some sport, to please those babies in your eyes ;--
By Love's religion, I must here confess it,
The most I love, when I the least express it.
Small griefs find tongues; full casks are ever found
To give, if any, yet but little sound.
Deep waters noiseless are; and this we know,
That chiding streams betray small depth below.
So when love speechless is, she doth express
A depth in love, and that depth bottomless.
Now, since my love is tongueless, know me such,
Who speak but little, 'cause I love so much.
My faithful friend, if you can see
The fruit to grow up, or the tree;
If you can see the colour come
Into the blushing pear or plum;
If you can see the water grow
To cakes of ice, or flakes of snow;
|