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النشر الإلكتروني

WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT,

SONG

In the Lady Errant. To carve our loves in myrtle rinds,

And tell our secrets to the woods ;
To send our sighs by faithful winds,
And trust our tears unto the floods;

To call where no man hears,
And think that rocks have ears,
To walk, and rest, to live and die,
And yet not know how, whence, or why ;
To have our hopes with fear still check'd,
To credit doubts, and truth suspect,
This, this is what we may
A lover's absence say.

FALSEHOOD. STILL do the stars impart their light

To those that travel in the night;
Still time runs on, nor doth the hand

Or shadow of the dial stand:
The streams still glide and constant are;

Only thy mind
Untrue I find,
Which carelessly

Neglects to be
Like stream or shadow,'hand or star.

LESBIA ON HER SPARROW.
TELL

me not of joys, there's none
Now my little sparrow's gone ;
He, just as you,
Would sigh and woo,

He would chirp and flatter me;

He would hang the wing awhile,

Till at length he saw me smile, Lord ! how sullen he would be ! He would catch a crumb, and then Sporting let it go again ;

He from my lip,

Would moisture sip;
He would from my trencher feed,

Then would hop, and then would run,

And cry Philip when h' had done ; Oh ! whose heart can choose but bleed? Oh ! how eager would he fight, And ne'er hurt tho' he did bite;

No morn did pass,

But on my glass
He would sit, and mark and do

What I did ; now ruffle all

His feathers o'er, now let them fall, And then straightway sleek them too. Where will Cupid get his darts Feather'd now, to pierce our hearts ?

A wound he may,

Not love, convey ;
Now this faithful bird is gone,

Oh ! let mournful turtles join

With loving redbreasts, and combine To sing dirges o'er his stone.

SIR JOHN SUCKLING.

SONG.
WHY
HY so pale and wan, fond lover ?

Prithee, why so pale ?
Will, if looking well can't move her,

Looking ill"prevail ?

Prithee, why so pale?
Why so dull and mute, young sinner?

Prithee, why so mute?
Will, if speaking well can't win her,

Saying nothing do't ?

Prithee, why so mute?
Quit, quit for shame; this will not move,

This cannot take her ;
If of herself she will not love,

Nothing can make her.
The Devil take her!

SONG. HONEST lover whosoever,

If in all thy love there ever Was one wavering thought, if thy flame Were not still even, still the same;

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss, And to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If, when she appears i'th' room, Thou dost not quake, and art struck dumb, And in striving this to cover Dost not speak thy words twice over;

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,
And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.
Vol. I.

G

If fondly thou dost not mistake,
And all defects for graces take ;
Persuad'st thyself that jests are broken,
When she hath little or nothing spoken;

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,
And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.
If when thou appear'st to be within,
Thou let'st not men ask, and ask again,

And when thou answer'st, if it be
To what was ask'd thee properly ;

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,
And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.
If when thy stomach calls to eat,
Thou cut'st not fingers 'stead of meat;

And, with much gazing on her face,
Dost not rise hungry from the place;

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,
And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.
If by this thou dost discover
That thou art no perfect lover ;

And, desiring to love true,
Thou dost begin to love anew,

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,
And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.

SONG. 'TIS now,

since I sat down before That foolish fort, a heart, (Time strangely spent!) a year and more,

And still I did my part.

Made my approaches, from her hand

Unto her lip did rise ;
And did already understand

The language of her eyes.
Proceeded on with no less art,
: My tongue was engineer;
I thought to undermine the heart,

By whispering in the ear.
When this did nothing, I brought down

Great cannon oaths and shot,
A thousand thousand to the town,

And still it yielded not.
I then resolv'd to starve the place,

By cutting off all kisses,
Praising and gazing on her face,

And all such little blisses.
To draw her out and from her strength,

I drew all batteries in ;
And brought myself to lie, at length,

As if no siege had been.
When I had done what man could do,

And thought the place my own,
The enemy lay quiet too,

And smil'd at all was done.
I sent to know from whence, and where,

These hopes and this relief?
A spy inform'd, honour was there,

And did command in chief.
March, march (quoth I); the word straight give,

Let's lose no time, but leave her ; That giant upon air will live,

And hold it out for ever.

To such a place our camp remove

As will no siege abide;
I hate a fool that starves her love,

Only to feed her pride.

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