THE QUEEN OF FAIRIES. COME, follow, follow me! You. Fairy Elves, that be, Which circle on the green; Come, follow me, your Queen! Hand in hand, let's dance a round! For this place is fairy ground. When mortals are at rest, Through keyholes we do glide ! And if the house be foul; Or platter, dish, or bowl: Upstairs we nimbly creep, And find the Sluts asleep; There, we pinch their arms and thighs! None escapes; nor none espies! But if the house be swept, Upon a mushroom's head, A corn of rye, or wheat, The brains of nightingales, On tops of dewy grass, So nimbly do we pass, The young and tender stalk Ne'er bends when we do walk; Yet, in the morning, may be seen Where we, the night before, have been. The grasshopper and the fly Serve for our Minstrelsy. Grace said; we dance a while, And so the time beguile : And when the moon doth hide her head; The glowworm lights us home to bed. OF WOMEN. I WONDER, Why, by foul-mouthed men, Women so slandered be! Since it so easily doth appear Th' are better far than we! Why are the Graces, every one, If not to show, that they in grace Why are the Liberal Sciences But t' shew, if they would study them, And yet the Senses, every one, Why are the Virtues, every one, If not to shew, that they in them Since Women are so full of worth; TO MASTER HUMPHREY MOSLEY, AND MASTER HUMPHREY ROBINSON. IN the large book of Plays, you, late, did print In BEAUMONT'S and in FLETCHER'S name; why in 't Did you not justice? give to each, his due? For BEAUMONT, of those many, writ in few; And MASSINGER, in other few: the main Being sole issues of sweet FLETCHER'S brain. 'But how came I,' you ask, 'so much to know?' FLETCHER'S chief bosom friend informed me so. I' th' next impression therefore, justice do! And print their old ones in one volume too! For BEAUMONT'S Works, and FLETCHER'S, should come forth With all the right belonging to their worth. TO PLAUTIA. AWAY, fond thing! Tempt me no more! I'll not be won, with all thy store! I can behold thy golden hair; And for the owner nothing care! Thy starry eyes can look upon; And be mine own, when I have done! Thy cherry, ruby lips can kiss ; And for fruition never wish! Can view the garden of thy cheeks; And slight the roses there, as leeks! Can hear thee sing, with all thine art; Without enthralling of my heart! My liberty thou canst not wrong, With all the magic of thy tongue! Thy warm snow-breasts, and I can see; And neither sigh, nor wish for thee! Behold thy feet, which we do bless For bearing so much happiness; Yet they, at all should not destroy My strong preservèd liberty! For thou art false! and wilt be so! |