Life works in vain where Death will master be;
Death strives in vain where Life doth virtue give.
Thus each of us would work another's woe,
And hurts himself in vain, and helps his foe.

Who then shall weep-nay, who shall tears refrain,
If common harms must move the minds of all?
Too few are found that wrongful hearts restrain,
And of too few too many Death doth call.
These common harms I wail among the rest,
But private loss denies to be express'd.

FROM WIT'S RECREATIONS

ON A BEAUTIFUL VIRGIN

IN THIS MARBLE buried lies
Beauty may enrich the skies,
And add light to Phoebus' eyes.

Sweeter than Aurora's air,
When she paints the lilies fair
And gilds cowslips with her hair.

Chaster than the virgin Spring,
Ere her blossoms she doth bring,
Or cause Philomel to sing.

If such goodness live 'mongst men,
Bring me it! I shall know then
She is come from heaven agen.

But if not, ye standers by!
Cherish me, and say that I

Am the next design'd to die.

ON CHLORIS WALKING IN THE SNOW

I

SAW FAIR CHLORIS walk alone
When feather'd rain came softly down,
Then Jove descended from his Tower
To court her in a silver shower:
The wanton snow flew to her breast,
Like little birds into their nest;
But overcome with whiteness there
For grief it thaw'd into a tear;
Then, falling down her garment hem,
To deck her, froze into a gem.

ON HIS MISTRESS

MY LOVE and I for kisses play'd,

She would keep stakes, I was content,—
And when I won she would be paid:

This made me ask her what she meant.
Saith she

Since you are in this wrangling vein,

Take you your kisses; give me mine again!

FROM WIT RESTORED

PHILLADA

OH! WHAT a pain is love:

How shall I bear it?

She will unconstant prove,
I greatly fear it.

She so torments my mind,
That my strength faileth,
And wavers with the wind
As a ship saileth :
Please her the best I may,
She loves still to gainsay :
Alack and well-a-day!
Phillada flouts me.

All the fair yesterday
She did pass by me,
She look'd another way,

And would not spy me:
I woo'd her for to dine,

But could not get her;
Will had her to the wine
He might intreat her.
With Daniel she did dance,
On me she look'd askance :
Oh, thrice unhappy chance!
Phillada flouts me.

Fair maid! be not so coy,

Do not disdain me !

I am my mother's joy :
Sweet! entertain me !
She'll give me when she dies
All that is fitting:

Her poultry, and her bees,
And her goose sitting,

A pair of mattrass beds,
And a bag full of shreds :
And yet, for all this guedes,
Phillada flouts me.

She hath a clout of mine,

Wrought with blue coventry,

Which she keeps for a sign

Of my fidelity:

But, 'faith, if she flinch,

She shall not wear it;

To Tib, my t' other wench,
I mean to bear it.

And yet it grieves my heart

So soon from her to part:

Death strike me with his dart!
Phillada flouts me.

Thou shalt eat crudded cream

All the year lasting,
And drink the crystal stream

Pleasant in tasting,

Whig and whey whilst thou lust,

And ramble-berries,

Pie-lid and pastry crust,

Pears, plums, and cherries;

Thy raiment shall be thin,
Made of a weevil's skin

Yet all's not worth a pin:
Phillada flouts me.

Fair maiden! have a care,

And in time take me!
I can have those as fair,
If you forsake me :
For Doll the dairy maid
Laugh'd at me lately,

And wanton Winifred

Favours me greatly.

One throws milk on my clothes, T'other plays with my nose: What wanting signs are those! Phillada flouts me.

I can not work nor sleep
At all in season :

Love wounds my heart so deep,
Without all reason.

I 'gin to pine away

In my Love's shadow, Like as a fat beast may

Penn'd in a meadow.

I shall be dead, I fear,
Within this thousand year:
And all for that my dear

Phillada flouts me.