WHAT Course of life should wretched mortals take? CHERRIES. My wanton, weep no more Hath in her lips and face; Be glad, kiss her with me, and hold your peace. ICARUS. WHILE with audacious wings, I cleav'd those airy ways, And fill'd (a monster new) with dread and fears, And charmed with the music of the spheres, For still the shore my brave attempt resounds. MADRIGALS AND EPIGRAMS. THE STATUE OF MEDUSA. Or that Medusa strange, Who those that did her see in rocks did change, For while at heat of day To quench her thirst she by this spring did stay, THE PORTRAIT OF MARS AND VENUS. FAIR Paphos' wanton queen Is truly here, as when in Vulcan's bed She was of all Heaven's laughing senate seen. Her brows, the bows of Love, Ye also might perceive her turn and move, NARCISSUS. ON HIS LADY BEHOLDING HERSELF IN A MARBLE. Keep in my breast engraven That angel's face hath me of rest bereaven. To lodge so dear a guest: Ev'n this hard marble stone Receives the same, and loves, but cannot groan. TO SLEEP. How comes it, Sleep, that thou Even kisses me affords Of her, dear her, so far who 's absent now? Which rocks might move, and move the pines to bow? Why didst thou steal away? Return, I thine for ever will remain, If thou wilt bring with thee that guest again. A PLEASANT DECEIT. OVER a crystal source Of purling streams to see the restless course. So like himself in stature, face and eyes, That glad he rose, and cried, "Dear mates approach, see whom I have descried, FLOODS cannot quench my flames, ah! in this well The boy of whom strange stories shepherds tell, I burn, not drown, for what I cannot tell. Oft called Hylas, dwelleth in this well." WHEN her dear bosom clips That little cur which fawns to touch her lips, To lie lapp'd in her lap, I burn, than those are which the Sun forth streams, In love's bright zodiack having trac'd each room, AN ALMANACK. THIS strange eclipse one says Shut all your gates, your hedges plant with thorns, THE SILK-WORM OF LOVE. A DEDALE of my death Now I resemble that sly worm on earth, Which prone to its own harm doth take no rest: For day and night opprest, I feed on fading leaves Of hope, which me deceives, And thousand webs do warp within my breast: And thus in end unto myself I weave A fast-shut prison, or a closer grave. ON THE DEATH OF A LINNET. Ir cruel death had ears, This wing'd musician bad liv'd many years, The Heavens their notes did unto it bequeath: But Death, who nothing spares, and nothing hears, LILLA'S PRAYER. "LOVE, if thou wilt once more That I to thee return, Sweet god! make me not burn For quivering age, that doth spent days deplore. Nor do thou wound my heart For some inconstant boy, Who joys to love, yet makes of love a toy. A sweet young lover with an aged mind.” (Who heard) "Dear, have thy wish, for such am I." ARMELIN'S EPITAPH. NEAR to this eglantine Enclosed lies the milk-white Armeline; Now only her annoy; Who envied was of the most happy swains That keep their flocks in mountains, dales, or plains: That Cloris for him wet with tears her face. EPITAPH. The bawd of justice, he who laws controll'd, A TRANSLATION. FIERCE robbers were of old Exil'd the champaign ground, From hamlets chas'd, in cities kill'd, or bound, And only woods, caves, mountains, did them hold: But now, when all is sold, Woods, mountains, caves, to good men be refuge, And do the guiltless lodge, And clad in purple gowns The greatest thieves command within the towns. EPITAPH. THEN Death thee hath beguil'd, Then thou who thrall'd all laws, Now against worms cannot maintain thy cause: A JEST. In a most holy church, a holy man, And eyes like fountains, mumbled forth a prayer, PAMPHILUS. SOME ladies wed, some love, and some adore them, I like their wanton sport, then care not for them. APELLES ENAMOURED OF CAMPASPE, ALEXANDER'S MISTRESS. POOR painter while I sought To counterfeit by art The fairest frame which Nature ever wrought, When straight my hand grew weak,my mind amaz'd, CAMPASPE. ON stars shall I exclaim, Which thus my fortune change, Upon myself this shame, Inconstant monarch, or shall I thee blame The sweet delights of Alexander's love? No, stars, myself, and thee, I all forgive, Of thee, blind king, my beauty was despis'd, CORNUCOPIA. If for one only horn, Doth with a goodly pair at once adorn? LOVE SUFFERS NO PARASOL. THOSE eyes, dear eyes, be spheres To choose some other fan than that white hand; PHRENE. AONIAN sisters, help my Phræne's praise to tell, Phræne, heart of my heart, with whom the graces dwell; snow, For I surcharged am so sore that I not know What first to praise of her, her breast, or neck of [eyes, Her cheeks with roses spread, or her two sun-like Her teeth of brightest pearl, her lips where sweetness lies: [forth, But those so praise themselves, being to all eyes set That, Muses, ye need not to say aught of their worth; Then her white swelling paps essay for to make known, [are shown; But her white swelling paps through smallest veil Yet she hath something else, more worthy than the rest, Not seen; go sing of that which lies beneath her breast, And mounts like fair Parnasse, where Pegase well doth run Here Phræne stay'd my Muse ere she had well begun. KISSES DESIRED. THOUGH I with strange desire To kiss those rosy lips am set on fire, Yet will I cease to crave Sweet kisses in such store, As he who long before In thousands them from Lesbia did receive: Sweetheart, but once me kiss, And I by that sweet bliss Even swear to cease you to importune more; Another word of me ye shall not hear KALA'S COMPLAINT. KALA, old Mopsus' wife, Kala with fairest face, For whom the neighbour swains oft were at strife, And said, "What wretch like me doth lead her life? All day I draw these streaming dugs in fold, PHILLIS. DESIRED DEATH. DEAR life, while I do touch These coral ports of bliss, Which still themselves do kiss, And sweetly me invite to do as much, All panting in my lips, My heart my life doth leave, No sense my senses have, And inward powers do find a strange eclipse: This death so heavenly well Doth so me please, that I Would never longer seek in sense to dwell, If that even thus I only could but die. IN petticoat of green, Sat milking her fair flock: 'Mongst that sweet-strained moisture (rare delight) Her hand seem'd milk, in milk it was so white. A WISH. To forge to mighty Jove Rich Midas' skill to know, And make all gold I touch, PHOEBE. IF for to be alone, and all the night to wander, Maids can prove chaste, then chaste is Phoebe without slander. Do I desire; it is for me too much: Of all the arts practis'd beneath the sky, I would but Phillis' lapidary be. ANSWER. FOOL, still to be alone, all night in Heaven to wander, Would make the wanton chaste, then she's chaste without slander. NISA. NISA, Palemon's wife, him weeping told |