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It is a toothache, or like pain ;
It is a game where none doth gain;
The lass saith no, and would full fain,
And this is love as I hear sain.

M. Yet, shepherd, what is love, I pray?
F. It is a yea, it is a nay,

A pretty kind of sporting fray,
It is a thing will soon away;
Then nymphs take vantage while you

And this is love as I hear say.

· M. And what is love, good shepherd, shew? F. A thing that creeps, it cannot go;

A prize that passeth to and fro;
A thing for one, a thing for moe,
And he that proves shall find it so;
And, shepherd, this is love, I trow.


As at noon Dulcina rested

In her sweet and shady bower,
Came a shepherd, and requested
In her lap to sleep an hour,

But from her look
A wound he took

So deep, that for a farther boon

The nymph he prays;
Whereto she

Forego me now, come to me soon !”

But in vain she did conjure him

To depart her presence so, Having a thousand tongues t'allure him, And but one to bid him go.

When lips invite,

And eyes delight,
And cheeks, as fresh as rose in June,

Persuade delay,

What boots to say, 6. Forego me now, come to me soon!"

He demands, what time for pleasure

Can there be more fit than now? She says, night gives love that leisure Which the day doth not allow.

He says, the sight

Improves delight; Which she denies ; “ Night's murky noon

In Venus' plays

Makes bold,” she says,
Forego me now, come to me soon!”

But what promise, or profession,

From his hands could purchase scope ? Who would sell the sweet possession

Of such beauty for a hope?

Or for the sight

Of lingering night, Forego the present joys of noon?

Tho' ne'er so fair

Her speeches were, « Forego me now, come to me soon!

How at last agreed these lovers ?

She was fair, and he was young: The tongue may tell what th’


discovers; Joys unseen are never sung.

Did she consent,

Or he relent?
Accepts he night, or grants she noon?

Left he her maid,

Or not? she said, “ Forego me now, come to me soon!”


SHALL I, like a hermit, dwell,
On a rock, or in a cell,
Calling home the smallest part
That is missing of my heart,
To bestow it where I may
Meet a rival every day?
If she undervalue me,
What care I how fair she be ?

Were her tresses angel gold,
If a stranger may be bold,
Unrebuked, unafraid,
To convert them to a braid;
And with little more ado
Work them into bracelets, too?
If the mine be grown so free,
What care I how rich it be?

Were her band as rich a prize
As her hairs, or precious eyes,
If she lay them out to take
Kisses, for good manners' sake :
And let every lover skip
From her hand unto her lip;
If she seem not chaste to me,
What care I how chaste she be?

No; she must be perfect snow,
In effect as well as show;
Warming but as snow-balls do,
Not like fire, by burning too ;
But when she by change hath got
To her heart a second lot,
Then, if others share with me,
Farewell her, whate'er she be!


Who in his day obtained the epithet of the silvertongued, was a merchant adventurer, and died abroad at Middleburg, in 1618. He was a candidate, in the year 1597, for the office of secretary to a trading company at Stade ; on which occasion the Earl of Essex seems to have taken a friendly interest in his fortunes. Though esteemed by the court of England (on one occasion he signs himself the pensioner of Prince Henry), he is said to have been driven from home by the enmity which his satires excited. This seems very extraordinary, as there is nothing in his vague and dull declamations against vice, that needed to have ruffled the most thinskinned enemies—so that his travels were probably made more from the hope of gain than the fear of persecution. He was an eminent linguist, and writes his dedications in several languages, but in his own he often fathoms the bathos, and brings up such lines as these to king James. So much, O king, thy sacred worth presume I on, James, the just heir of England's lawful union. His works are chiefly translations, including that of the Divine Weeks and Works of Du Bartas. His claim to the poem of the Soul's Errand, as has been already mentioned, is to be entirely set aside.

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