THE BUSY MAN IS FREE

FOND Love, no more

Will I adore

Thy feigned Deity; Go throw thy darts

At simple hearts,

And prove thy victory.

Whilst I do keep

My harmless sheep

Love hath no power on me :

'Tis idle souls

Which he controls;

The busy man is free.

POEMS

BY

ROBERT GREENE AND THOMAS LODGE.

I

From Perimedes the Blacksmith,

1588.

WANTON YOUTH.

N Cyprus sat fair Venus by a fount,

Wanton Adonis toying on her knee:

She kissed the wag, her darling of account;

The boy 'gan blush; which when his lover see, She smiled, and told him love might challenge debt, And he was young, and might be wanton yet.

The boy waxed bold, fired by fond desire,

That woo he could and court her with conceit : Reason spied this, and sought to quench the fire With cold disdain; but wily Adon straight Cheered up the flame, and said, "Good sir, what let? I am but young, and may be wanton yet."

Reason replied, that beauty was a bane

To such as feed their fancy with fond love,
That when sweet youth with lust is overta'en,
It rues in age: this could not Adon move,
For Venus taught him still this rest to set,
That he was young, and might be wanton yet.

Where Venus strikes with beauty to the quick,
It little 'vails sage Reason to reply;
Few are the cares for such as are love-sick,

But love then, though I wanton it awry,
And play the wag, from Adon this I get,-
I am but young, and may be wanton yet.