SWEET Cytherea, sitting by a brook,
With young Adonis, lovely, fresh and green,
Did court the lad with many a lovely look,
Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen.
She told him stories to delight his ear;
She show'd him favours to allure his eye ;
To win his heart, she touch'd him here and there :
Touches so soft still conquer chastity.
But whether unripe years did want conceit,
Or he refus'd to take her figur'd protier,
The tender nibbler would not touch the bait,
But smile and jest at every gentle offer:
Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and toward;
He rose and ran away; ah, fool too froward ?


Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn,
And scarce the herd gone io the hedge for shade,
When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,
A longing tarriance for Adonis made,
Under an osier growing by a brook,
A brook, where Adon us'd to cool his spleen:
Hot was the day; she hotter that did look
For his approach, that often there had been.
Anon he comes and throws his mantle by,
And stood stark naked on the brook's green brim;
The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye,
Yet not so wistly, as this queen on him:
He spying her, bounc'd in, whereas he stood ;
O, Jove, quoth she, why was not I a flood ?

Fair was the morn, when the fair queen of love,
Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove,
For Adon's sake, a youngster proud and wild ;
Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill:
Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds ;
She, silly queen, with more than love's good will,
Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds;
Once, quoth she, did I see a fair sweet youth
Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar,
Deep in the thigh, a speciacle of ruth!
See, in my thigh, quoth she, here was the sore;
She showed hers; he saw more wounds than one,
And blushing fled, and left her all alone.

Venus with young Adonis sitting by her,
Under a myrtle shade began to woo him ;
She told the youngling how god Mars did try her,
And as he fell to her, so fell she to him.
Even thus, quoth she, the warlike god embrac'd me;
And then she clipp'd Adonis in her arms;
Even thus, quoth she, the warlike god unlac'd me;
As if the boy should use like loving charms :
Even thus, quoth she, he seized on my lips,
And with her lips on his did act the seizure;
And as she fetched breath, away he skips,
And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure.
Ah! that I had my lady at this bay,
To kiss and clip me till I run away!

Crabbed age and youth

Cannot live together;
Youth is full of pleasance,

Age is full of care :
Youth like sommer morn,

Age like winter weather ;

Youth like summer brave,

Age like winter bare.
Youth is full of sport,
Age's breath is short

Youth is nimble, age is lame ;
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold;

Youth is wild, and age is tame.
Age, I do abhor thee,
Youth, I do adore thee;

O, my love, my love is young ;
Age, I do defy thee;
O, sweet shepherd, hie thee,
For methinkst thou stay'st too long.

Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon faded,
Pluck'd in the bud, and faded in the spring!
Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely shaded !
Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting!
Like a green plumb that hangs upon a tree,
And falls, through wind, before the fall should be.
I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have ;
For why ? thou left'st me nothing in thy will.
And yei thou left'st me more than I did crave,
For why? I craved nothing of thee still :
O, yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee
Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.

Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle,
Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty;
Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle,
Sofier than wax, and yei, as iron, rusty:
A lily pale, with damask die to grace her,
None fairer, nor none falser to deface her.
Her lips to mine how often hath she join'd,
Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing!

many tales to please me hath she coin'd,
Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing!
Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings,
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings.
She burn'd with love, as straw with fire flameth;
She burn'd out love, as soon as straw out-burneth;
She fram'd the love, and yet she foild the framing i
She bade love last, and yet she fell a turning.
Was this a lover, or a lécher whether?
Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.

Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore ; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee;
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace being gaina, cures all disgrace in me.
My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is;
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth doth shine
Exhal'st this vapour vow; in thee it is :
If broken, then, it is no fault of mine.
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
To break an oath, to win a paradise ?

If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?
O, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd :
Though to myself forsworn, to thee Tu constant

[bow'd. Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers

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Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day,
Where all those pleasures live, that art can compre- Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away;

Then lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay;
Ifknowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; For now my song is ended.
Well learned is that tongue that well can thee com-

All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; On a day (alack the day!)

Love, whose month was ever May,
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire:
Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his

Spy'd a blossom passing fair,
'dreadful' thunder,

Playing in the wanton air:
Which (not to anger bent) is music and sweet fire.

Through the velvet leaves the wind,
Celestial as thou art, O, do not love that wrong,

All unseen, 'gan passage find;
To sing the heavens' praise with such an earthly

That the lover, sick to death,

Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.

Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow :

Air, would I might triumph so!
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good,

But alas! my hand hath sworn
A shining gloss, that fadeth suddenly;

Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
A lower that dies, when first it 'gins to bud;

Vow, alack, for youth unmeet
A brittle glass that's broken presently;

Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet.
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,

Do not call it sin in me,
Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.

That I am forsworn for thee;

Thou for whom Jove e'en would swear
And as good lost are seld or never found,

Juno but an Ethiope were ;
As faded gloss no rubbing will refresh,

And deny himself for Jove,
As flowers dead, lie wither'd on the ground,

Turning mortal for thy love.
As broken glass no cement can redress,

So beauty blemish'd once, for ever's lost.
In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.

My flocks feed not,

My ewes breed not,

My rams speed not,
Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share,

Al is amiss:
She bade good night, that kept my rest away;

Love's denying,
And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care,

Faith's defying,
To descant on the doubts of my decay.

Heart's renying,
Farewell, quoth she, and como again to-morrow;

Causer of this.
Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow, All my merry jigs are quite forgot,

All my lady's love is lost, God wot:
Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,

Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love,
In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether :

There a nay is plac'd without remove.
*Tmay be, she joy'd to jest at my exile,

One silly cross
Tmay be, again to make me wander thither ;

Wrought all my loss;
Wander, a word for shadows like thyself,

O, frowning fortune, cursed, fickle dame!
As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf,

For now I


More in women than in men remain.
Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east!
My heart doth charge the watch; the morning riso

In black mourn I,
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.

All fears scorn I,
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,

Love hath forlorn me,
While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,

Living in thrall:
And wish her lays were tuned like the lark;

Heart is bleeding,

All help needing,
For she doth welcome day-light with her ditty,

(O cruel speeding!)
And drives away dark dismal-dreaming nighi:

Fraughled with gall!
The night so pack'd, I post unto my pretty; My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal,
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight; My wether's bell rings doleful knell;
Sorrow chang'd to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow; My curtail dog that wont to have play'd,
For why? she sigh’d, and bade me come to-morrow. Plays not at all, but seems afraid ;

My sighs so deep,
Were I with her, the night would post too soon;

Procure to weep,
But now are minutes added to the hours;

In howling-wise, to see my doleful plight.
To spite me now, each minute seems a moon;

How sighs resound
Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers!

Through harkless ground,
Pack night, peep day, good day, of night now borrow:

Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody fight !
Short, night, to-night, and length thyself to-morrow.

Clear wells spring not,

Sweet birds sing not,
It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three, Loud bells ring not
That liked of her master as well as well might be,

Cheerfully ;
Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest eye could

Herds stand weeping,

Flocks all sleeping,
Her fancy fell a turning.

[did fight, Nymphs back creeping
Long was the combat doubtful, that love with love Fearfully:
To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant All our pleasure known to us poor swains,

All our merry meetings on the plains,
To put in practice either, alas, it was a spite All our evening sport from us is Aled,
Unto the silly damsel.

All our love is lost, for love is dead.

Farewell, sweet lass,
But one must be refused, more mickle was the pain, Thy like ne'er was,
That nothing could be used, to turn them both tó For a sweet content, the cause of all my moan:

[disdain : Poor Coridon
For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with Must live alone,
Alas, she could not help it!

Other help for him I see that there is none.


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Herald sad and trumpet bes
When as thine eye hath chose the dame,

To whose sound chaste wings oboy.
And stall'd the deer that thou wouldst strike, But thou shrieking harbinger,
Let reason rule things worthy blame,

Foul pre-currer of the fiend,
As well as fancy, partial tike :

Augur of the fever's end, Take counsel of some wiser head,

To this troop come thou not near! Neither too young, nor yet unwed.

From this session interdict And when thou com'st thy tale to tell,

Every fowl of tyrant wing, Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,

Save the eagle, feather'd king: Lest she some subtle practice swell;

Keep the obsequy so strict. (A cripple soon can find a halt:)

Let the priest in surplice white, But plainly say thou lov'st her well,

That defunctive music can, And set thy person forth to sell.

Be the death-divining swan, And to her will frame all thy ways;

Lest the requiem lack his right. Spare not to spend, -and chiefly there

And thou, treble-dated crow, Where thy desert may merit praise,

That thy sable gender mak'st By ringing always in her ear:

With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st, The strongest castle, tower, and town,

'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go. The golden bullet beats it down.

Here the anthem doth commence Serve always with assured trust,

Love and constancy is dead; And in thy suit be humble, true ;

Phenix and the turtle fled
Unless thy lady prove unjust,

In a mutual flame from hence.
Seek never thou to choose anew :
When time shall serve, be thou not slack

So they lov'd, as love in twain

Had the essence but in one; To proffer, though she put thee back.

Two distincts, division none :
What though her frowning brows be bent,

Number there in love was slain.
Her cloudy looks will clear ere night;
And then 100 late she will repent

Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
That she dissembled her delight;

Distance, and no space was seen And twice desire, ere it be day,

Twixt the turtle and his queen: That with such scorn she put away.

But in them it were a wonder. What though she strive to try her strength,

So between them love did shine, And ban and brawl, and say thee nay,

That the turtle saw his right Her feeble force will yield at length,

Flaming in the Phenix' sight : When craft hath taught her thus to say,

Either was the other's mine. Had women been so strong as men,

Property was thus appall’d, In faith you had not had it then.

That the self was not the same ; The wiles and guiles that women work,

Single nature's double name Dissembled with an outward show,

Neuher two nor one was callid. The tricks and toys that in them lurk,

Reason, in itself confounded, The cock that treads them shall not know,

Saw division grow together; Have you not heard it said full oft,

To themselves yet either neither, A woman's nay doth stand for nought?

Simple were so well compounded ; Think, women love to match with men.

That it cried, how true a twain And not to live so like a saint:

Seemeth this concordant one ! Here is no heaven: they holy then

Love hath reason, reason none, Begin, when age doth them auaint.

If what parts can so remain. Were kisses all the joys in bed,

Whereupon it made this threne One woman would another wed.

To the Phenix and the dovc, But soft ; enough,—too much I fear;

Co-supremes and stars of love;
For if my lady hear my song,

As chorus to their tragic scene.
She will not stick to ring mine ear,
To teach my tongue to be so long :

Yet will she blush, here be it said,
To hear her secrets so bewray'd.

Beauty, truth, and rarity,

Grace in all simplicity,

Here inclos’d in cinders lie.
Take, oh, take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn;

Death is now the Phenix' nest;
And those eyes, the break of day,

And the turtle's loyal breast Lights that do mislead the morn:

To eternity doch rest, But my kisses bring again,

Leaving no posterity :Seals of love, but scal'd in vain.

"Twas not their infirmity, Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow

It was married chastity.
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
On whose tops the pinks that grow

Truth may seem, but cannot be ;
Are of those that April wears :

Beauty brag, but 'tis not she; But first set my poor heart free,

Truth and beauty buried be.
Bound in those icy chains by thce.

To this urn let those repair

That are either true or fair ;
Let the bird of loudest lay,

For these dead birds sigh a prayer. On the sole Arabian tree,


"alce akd to bind dire.

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