LOVE MAKES ALL LOVELY

WHAT I FANCY I approve :

WHA

No dislike there is in love.

Be my Mistress short or tall,
And distorted therewithal,

Be She likewise one of those
That an acre hath of nose,
Be her forehead and her eyes
Full of incongruities,

Be her cheeks so shallow too

As to show her tongue wag through,
Be her lips ill hung or set,

And her grinders black as jet,

Hath She thin hair, hath She none,

She's to me a paragon.

A VALENTINE

CHOOSE ME your Valentine !

Next, let us marry !

Love to the death will pine
If we long tarry.

Promise and keep your vows,

Or vow you never !
Love's doctrine disallows

Troth-breakers ever.

You have broke promise twice,
Dear! to undo me;

If you prove faithless thrice,

None then will woo ye.

TO WATER-NYMPHS

DRINKING AT A FOUNTAIN

REACH with your whiter hands to me

Some crystal of the spring!
And I about the cup shall see
Fresh lilies flourishing.

Or else, sweet Nymphs! do you but this:
To the glass your lips incline,

And I shall see by that one kiss
The water turn'd to wine.

RICHARD BRATHWAITE

H

A FIG FOR CARE

APPY is that

state of his

Who the world takes as it is!

Lose he honour, friendship, wealth,
Lose he liberty or health,

Lose he all that earth can give,
Having nought whereon to live,
So prepared a mind's in him,
He's resolved to sink or swim.

Should I aught dejected be
'Cause blind Fortune frowns on me?

Or put finger in the eye

When I see my Damon die?

Or repine such should inherit

More of honours than of merit?

Or put on a sourer face

To see Virtue in disgrace?

Should I weep when I do try
Fickle friends' inconstancy,
Quite discarding mine and met

When they should the firmest be?

Or think much when barren brains
Are possess'd of rich domains,

When in reason it were fit

They had wealth unto their wit?

Should I spend the morn in tears
'Cause I see my neighbour's ears
Stand so slopewise from his head,
As if they were horns instead?
Or to see his wife at once

Branch his brow and break his sconce ;

Or to hear her in her spleen
Callet like a butter-quean?

Should I sigh because I see
Laws like spider-webs to be,
Lesser flies there quickly ta'en,
While the great break out again?
Or so many schisms and sects,
Which foul heresy detects,
To suppress the fire of zeal

Both in church and commonweal?

No! there's nought on earth I fear
That may force from me one tear.
Loss of honours, freedom, health;
Or that mortal idol, wealth:
With these babes may grievèd be,
But they have no power o'er me.
Less my substance, less my share
In my fear and in my care.

Thus to love, and thus to live,
Thus to take, and thus to give,
Thus to laugh, and thus to sing,
Thus to mount on pleasure's wing,
Thus to sport, and thus to speed,
Thus to flourish, nourish, feed,
Thus to spend, and thus to spare,
Is to bid a fig for care.

THOMAS GOFFE

TO SLEEP

DROP golden showers, gentle Sleep!

And all ye Angels of the Night

Which do us in protection keep,
Make this Queen dream of delight!
Morpheus kind a little, be

Death's now true image, for 'twill prove To this poor Queen that thou art he.: Her grave is made i' the bed of Love. Thus with sweet sweets can Heaven mix gall, And marriage turn to funeral.