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And lest her maid should know of this disgrace,
To cover it spilt water in the place.

AMORUM. LIB. I. ELEGIA 2. Quod primo amore correptus, in triumphum duci se a Cupidine

patiatur. What makes my bed seem hard seeing it is so soft? Or why slips down the coverlet so oft ? Although the nights be long I sleep not through, My sides are sore with tumbling to and fro. Were love the cause it's like I should descry him, Or lies he close and shoots where none can spy him? 'Twas so he struck me with a tender dart, 'Tis cruel love turmoils my captive heart. Yielding or striving do we give him might, Let's yield, a burden easily borne is light. I saw a brandish'd fire increase in strength, Which being not shak'd, I saw it die at length. Young oxen newly yok'd are beaten more, Than oxen which have drawn the plough before : And rough jades' mouths with stubborn bits are torn, But manag'd horses' heads are lightly borne. Unwilling lovers, love doth more torment, Than such as in their bondage feel content. Lo I confess, I am thy captive I, And hold my conquer'd hands for thee to tie. What need'st thou war, I sue to thee for grace With arms to conquer is base. Yoke Venus' Doves, put myrtle on thy hair, Vulcan will give thee chariots rich and fair :

The people thee applauding, thou shalt stand,
Guiding the harmless pigeons with (thy) hand.
Young men and women shalt thou lead as thrall,
So will thy triumphs seem magnifical;
1, lately caught, will have a new made wound,
And captive like be manacled and bound,
Good meaning shame, and such as seek loves wrack
Shall follow thee, their hands tied at their back.
Thee all shall fear, and worship as a king
Io, triumphing shall thy people sing.
Smooth speeches, fear and rage shall by thee ride,
Which troops have always been on Cupid's side :
Thou with these soldiers conquer'st gods and men.
Take these away where is thy honor then?
Thy mother shall from heaven applaud this show,
And on their faces heaps of roses strow,
With beauty of thy wings, thy fair hair gilded,
Ride golden love in chariots richly builded.
Unless I err, full many shalt thou burn,
And give words infinite at every turn.
In spite of thee, forth will thy arrows fly,
A scorching flame burns all the standers by.
So having conquer'd Ind, was Bacchus hue,
Thee pompous

birds and him two tigers drew;
Then seeing I grace thy shew in following thee,
Forbear to hurt thyself in spoiling me.
Behold thy kinsman Cæsar's prosperous hands,
Whoguards thee conquered with his conquering hands.




Epigrammes and Elegies, by J. D. and C. M. At Middlebourgh. 8vo. (no date.)

These productions are ascribed to Davies and Marlowe, but as it is impossible to determine with accuracy the portions belonging to each, and as moreover the volume is extremely rare it has been thought best to reprint the whole.



Fly merry Muse unto that merry town,
Where thou may'st plays, revels and triumphs see,
The house of fame and theatre of renown,
Where all good wits and spirits love to be.

Fall in between their hands, that love and praise thee,
And be to them a laughter and a jest:
But as for them which scorning shall approve thee,
Disdain their wits, and think thine own the best.

But if thou find any so gross and dull,
That think I do to private taxing lean :
Bid him go hang for he is but a gull,
And knows not what an epigram does mean.

Which taxeth under a particular name,
A general vice which merits public blame.


Oft in my laughing rhymes, I name a gull,
But this new term will many questions breed,

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