And my most luckie swain, when I shall live to see Endimion's moon to fill up full, remember me; Mean time, let Lycidas have leave to pipe to thee.

TO A BED OF TULIPS.

BRIGHT tulips, we do know,
You had your comming hither,
And fading time do's show,
That ye must quickly wither.

Your sister-hoods may stay,
And smile here for your houre;
But dye ye must away,
Even as the meanest flower.

Come, virgins, then and see
Your frailties, and bemone ye,
For lost like these, 'twill be
As time had never known ye.

A CAUTION.

THAT love last long, let it thy first care be
To find a wife that is most fit for thee.
Be she too wealthy, or too poore, be sure,
Love in extreames can never long endure.

TO THE WATER NYMPHS DRINKING AT THE

FOUNTAIN.

REACH with your whiter hands to me,

Some christall of the spring;

And I about the cup shall see
Fresh lillies flourishing.

Or else, sweet nimphs, do you but this;
To'th' glasse your lips encline;
And I shall see by that one kisse,

The water turn'd to wine.

TO HIS HONOURED KINSMAN, SIR RICHARd stone.

To this white temple of my heroes, here
Beset with stately figures every where,

Of such rare saint-ships, who did here consume
Their lives in sweets, and left in death perfume;
Come thou, brave man! and bring with thee a Stone
Unto thine own edification.

High are these statues here, besides no lesse
Strong then the heavens for everlastingnesse ;
Where build aloft, and being fixt by these

Set up thine own eternall images.

UPON A FLIE.

A GOLDEN flie one shew'd to me,
Clos'd in a box of yvorie,

Where both seem'd proud; the flie to have
His buriall in an yvory grave;

The yvorie tooke state to hold
A corps as bright as burnisht gold.
One fate had both; both equall grace,
The buried, and the burying-place.
Not Virgil's gnat, to whom the spring
All flowers sent to'is burying;
Not Marshal's bee, which in a bead
Of amber quick was buried;

Nor that fine worme that do's interre

Her selfe i'th' silken sepulchre ;
Nor my rare 1 Phil, that lately was
With lillies tomb'd up in a glasse,
More honour had then this same flie,
Dead, and clos'd up in yvorie.

UPON JACK AND JILL. EPIG.

WHEN Jill complaines to Jack for want of meate; Jack kisses Jill, and bids her freely eate;

Jill sayes, of what? sayes Jack, on that sweet kisse, Which full of nectar and ambrosia is,

The food of poets; so I thought, sayes Jill,

That makes them looke so lanke, so ghost-like still; Let poets feed on aire, or what they will,

Let me feed full, till that I fart,

, sayes Jill.

1 Sparrow.

TO JULIA.

JULIA, when thy Herrick dies,
Close thou up thy poet's eyes;
And his last breath, let it be
Taken in by none but thee.

TO MISTRESSE DOROTHY PARSONS.

IF thou aske me, deare, wherefore
I do write of thee no more;

I must answer, sweet, thy part
Lesse is here then in my heart.

UPON PARRAT.

PARRAT protests 'tis he, and only he
Can teach a man the art of memory;
Believe him not; for he forgot it quite,

Being drunke, who 'twas that can'd his ribs last night.

HOW HE WOULD DRINKE HIS WINE.

FILL me my wine in christall; thus, and thus

I see't in's puris naturalibus;

Unmixt, I love to have it smirke and shine,

'Tis sin, I know, 'tis sin to throtle wine.

What mad-man's he, that when it sparkles so,

Will coole his flames, or quench his fires with snow?

HOW MARIGOLDS CAME YELLOW.

JEALOUS girles these sometimes were,
While they liv'd or lasted here:
Turn'd to flowers, still they be
Yellow, markt for jealousie.

THE BROKEN CHRISTALL.

To fetch me wine my Lucia went,
Bearing a christall continent;
But, making haste, it came to passe,
She brake in two the purer glasse,
Then smil'd, and sweetly chid her speed;
So with a blush beshrew'd the deed.

PRECEPTS.

GOOD precepts we must firmly hold,
By daily learning we wax old.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE EDWARD EARLE OF

DORSET.

IF I dare write to you, my lord, who are

Of your own selfe a publick theater;

And sitting, see the wiles, wayes, walks of wit,
And give a righteous judgement upon it;
What need I care, though some dislike me sho'd,
If Dorset say, what Herrick writes is good?