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And when thou com'st thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,
Lest she some subtle practice smell;
(A cripple soon can find a halt:)
But plainly say thou lov'st her well,
And set her person forth to sell.

What though her frowning brows be bent,
Her cloudy looks will calm ere night;
And then too late she will repent,
That thus dissembled her delight;

And twice desire, ere it be day,
That which with scorn she put away.

What though she strive to try her strength,
And ban and brawl, and say thee nay,
Her feeble force will yield at length,
When craft hath taught her thus to say:
"Had women been so strong as men,
In faith you had not had it then."

And to her will frame all thy ways;
Spare not to spend, and chiefly there
Where thy desert may merit praise,
By ringing in thy lady's ear:

The strongest castle, tower, and town,
The golden bullet beats it down.

Serve always with assured trust,
And in thy suit be humble, true;

Unless thy lady prove unjust,

Press never thou to choose anew:

When time shall serve, be thou not slack
To proffer, though she put thee back.

The wiles and guiles that women work,
Dissembled with an outward show,
The tricks and toys that in them lurk,
The cock that treads them shall not know.
Have you not heard it said full oft,
A woman's nay doth stand for nought

13 Think women still to strive with men, To sin, and never for to saint:

There is no heaven, by holy then,

When time with age shall them attaint.
Were kisses all the joys in bed,
One woman would another wed.

But soft; enough,—too much I fear,
Lest that my mistress hear my song;
She'll not stick to round me i'th' ear,
To teach my tongue to be so long:

13 Think women, &c.] These four lines are scarcely intelligible in a MS. copy of the poem, belonging to S. Lysons, Esq. they stand thus:

:

"Think women love to match with men,

And not to live so like a saint:

Here is no heaven; they holy then

Degin, when age doth them attaint."

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14 This and the next piece were in all probability by Richard Barnefield, as they are found in a colle his Poems printed in 1598. The Passionate Pilgrim published in the following year.

King Pandion, he is dead;

All thy friends are lapp'd in lead:
All thy fellow birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing.
Even so, poor bird, like thee,
None alive will pity me.

Whilst as fickle fortune smil'd,
Thou and I were both beguil'd.
Every one that flatters thee,
Is no friend in misery.

Words are easy like the wind;
Faithful friends are hard to find.
Every man will be thy friend,

Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend ;
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call:
And with such like flattering,
Pity but he were a king."
If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice;
If to women he be bent,

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They have him at commandement ;
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown:
They that fawn'd on him before,
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need,

If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep:
Thus of every grief in heart
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.

XVIII.

If musick and sweet poetry agree,

As they must needs, the sister and the brot
Then must the love be great 'twixt thee an
Because thou lov'st the one, and I the othe
Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly t
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense;
Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such,
As passing all conceit, needs no defence.
Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sou
That Phoebus' lute, the queen of musick, m
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd,
Whenas himself to singing he betakes.

One god is god of both, as poets feign;
One knight loves both, and both in thee re

VERSES AMONG THE ADDITIONAL POEM CHESTER'S LOVE'S MARTYR, 1601.

LET the bird of loudest lay

On the sole Arabian tree,
Herald sad and trumpet be,

To whose sound chaste wings obey.

Dowland] A famous Lutanist.

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