Joys, as winged dreams, fly fast, Gentlest fair! mourn, mourn, no moe. DUET. [In the Captain.] "TELL me, dearest, what is love?" "Tis a lightning from above; "Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire; "Tis a boy they call Desire; "Tis a grave Gapes to have Those poor fools that long to prove. "Tell me more, are women true ?" Some are willing, some are strange, And till troth Be in both, All shall love, to love anew. "Tell me more yet, can they grieve?" Yes, and sicken sore, but live, And be wise, and delay When you men are as wise as they: "Then I see "Faith will be "Never till they both believe." SONG. [In the Elder Brother.] BEAUTY clear and fair, Where the air Rather like a perfume dwells; Where the violet and the rose And come to honour nothing else. Where to live near And planted there, Is to live and still live new; Where to gain a favour is More than light, perpetual bliss ; Make me live by serving you! SONG. [In a Wife for a Month.] LET those complain that feel love's cruelty, My mistress' eyes shine fair on my desires, No more an exile will I dwell, With folded arms and sighs all day, Reckoning the torments of my hell, And flinging my sweet joys away. I am call'd home again to quiet peace, Yet what is living in her eye, Or being blest with her sweet tongue, If these no other joys imply? A golden gyve, a pleasing wrong. To be your own but one poor month, I'd give My youth, my fortune, and then leave to live. FRANCIS BEAUMONT. A CHARM. [From his Poems, 1640.] SLEEP, old man! let silence charm thee; Dreaming slumbers overtake thee: Quiet thoughts, and darkness arm thee, That no creaking do awake thee! Phoebe hath put out her light, Let no fatal bell or clock, Pierce the hollow of thine ear! Tongueless be the early cock, Or what else may add a fear. Let no rat, nor silly mouse, |