TO HIS MUSE.

WERE I to give thee baptime, I wo'd chuse
To christen thee the Bride, the Bashfull Muse,
Or Muse of Roses, since that name does fit
Best with those virgin verses thou hast writ;
Which are so cleane, so chast, as none may feare
Cato the censor, sho'd he scan each here.

UPON LOVE.

LOVE scorch'd my finger, but did spare
The burning of my heart;
To signifie, in love my share
Sho'd be a little part.

Little I love; but if that he

Wo'd but that heat recall,
That joynt to ashes sho'd be burnt,
Ere I wo'd love at all.

DEAN-BOURN, A RUDE RIVER IN DEVON BY WHICH SOMETIMES HE LIVED.

DEAN-BOURN, farewell; I never look to see
Deane, or thy warty * incivility.

Thy rockie bottome, that doth teare thy streams,
And makes them frantick, ev'n to all extreames,

* Qu. watry?

To my content, I never sho'd behold,

Were thy streames silver, or thy rocks all gold. Rockie thou art; and rockie we discover

Thy men; and rockie are thy wayes all over.
O men, O manners! now, and ever knowne
To be a rockie generation!

A people currish, churlish as the seas,
And rude, almost, as rudest salvages;

With whom I did, and may re-sojourne when
Rockes turn to rivers, rivers turn to men.

Who has a little measure,

He must of right,

To th' utmost mite,

Make payment for his pleasure.

TO JULIA.

How rich and pleasing thou, my Julia, art,
In each thy dainty and peculiar part!
First, for thy queen-ship, on thy head is set
Of flowers a sweet commingled coronet ;
About thy neck a carkanet is bound,
Made of the rubie, pearle, and diamond;
A golden ring, that shines upon thy thumb ;
About thy wrist, the rich Dardanium. *
Between thy breast, then doune of swans more

white,

There playes the saphire with the chrysolite.
No part besides must of thy selfe be known,
But by the topaz, opal, calcedon.

TO LAURELS.

A FUNERAL stone,

Or verse, I covet none;

But onely crave

Of you that I may have

A sacred laurel springing from my grave,

* A Bracelet, from Dardanus so call'd.

Which being seen,

Blest with perpetuall greene,
May grow to be

Not so much call'd a tree,

As the eternall monument of me.

HIS CAVALIER.

GIVE me that man that dares bestride The active sea-horse, and with pride Through that huge field of waters ride; Who with his looks too can appease The ruffling winds and raging seas In mid'st of all their outrages. This, this a virtuous man can doe, Saile against rocks, and split them too; I!* and a world of pikes passe through.

ZEAL REQUIRED IN LOVE.

I'LE do my best to win, when'ere I wooe; That man loves not, who is not zealous too.

THE BAG OF THE BEE.

ABOUT the sweet bag of a bee,

Two cupids fell at odds;

And whose the pretty prize shu'd be,

They vow'd to ask the gods.

* Ay.

Which Venus hearing, thither came,
And for their boldness stript them;
And taking thence from each his flame,
With rods of myrtle whipt them.

Which done, to still their wanton cries,
When quiet grown sh'ad seen them,
She kist, and wip'd their dove-like eyes,
And gave the bag between them.

LOVE KILL'D BY LACK.

LET me be warme, let me be fully fed:
Luxurious love by wealth is nourished.
Let me be leane, and cold, and once grown poore,
I shall dislike what once I lov'd before.