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Think not deare love that I'le reveale,
Those houres of pleasure we do steale,
No eye shall see, nor yet the sun
Descrie what thee and I have done;
The God of love himself, whose dart
Did first peirce mine, and next thy heart,
He shall not know, that we can tell
What sweets in stoln embracements dwell,
Onely this meanes may find it out,
If when I dy, Phisitians doubt

What caus'd my death, and they to view
Of all the judgements that are true,
Rip up my heart oh then I feare
The world will find thy picture there.

43. Tempus edax rerum.

The sweetest flower in the summers prime,
By all agreement is the damaske rose,

Which if it grow, and be not pluck'd in time,

She sheds her leaves, her buds their sent do loose, Oh let not things of worth, for want of use

Fall into all consuming times abuse:

The sweetest work that ever nature fram'd,

By all agreement is a virgins face,

Which not enjoy'd, her white and red will fade,
And unto all worm-eating time give place:

Oh let not things of worth, for want of use
Fall into all consuming times abuse.

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Thou send'st to me a heart was Crown'd,

I tooke it to be thine,

But when I saw it had a wound,

I knew that heart was mine.

A bounty of a strange conceit,
To send mine own to me,
And send it in a worse estate,

Then when it came to thee;

The heart I gave thee had no staine,

It was intire and sound;

But thou hast sent it back againe,

Sick of a deadly wound.

Oh heavens! how wouldst thou use a heart
That should rebellious be,

When thou hast kill'd me with a dart,

That so much honor'd thee.

45. On a charming beauty.

I'le gaze no more on that bewitched face,
Since ruin harbors there in every place,

For my inchanted soul alike she drowns,
With calms and tempests of her smiles and frowns.
I'le love no more those cruell eyes of hers,
Which pleas'd or anger'd still are murtherers ;
For if she dart like lightning through the ayre,
Her beames of wrath, she kils me with despaire,
If she behold me with a pleasing eye,
I surfet with excesse of joy and dy.

46. In Mincam.

Fine Minca lisping yea and no forsooth,

Though little eats, yet keeps a dainty tooth:
Minca that longs for apples on the tree,
In May, before the blossomes fallen be,
Or will not eate a Kentish cherry down,
But for a couple, when she payes a crown ;
And cares not for a straw-berry or peare,
In truth because th'are common every where ;
Yet what is that which may be had for reason,
And never comes to Minca out of season?

47. Clericus absque libro.

When Crassus in his office was instal'd,

For summs of money, which he yet doth ow,
A client by the name of Clerk him call'd,
As he next day to Westminster did go,
Which Crassus hearing whispers thus in 's eare,
Sirrah you now mistake and much do erre,
That henceforth must the name of Clerke forbear,
And know I am become an officer.

Alas (quoth he) I did not so much marke,
Good Mr. officer, that are no clerke.

48. To his Mrs.

Your lips (faire Lady) if 't be not too much,
I beg to kisse, your hand I crave to touch,
And if your hand deny that courtesie,
(Sweet mistris) at your feet I prostrate ly;

But if your foot Spurn my humility,

Or that your lips think I do aime too high,
your hand in token of consent,

Then let
Point at the meane, the maine of all content,
And I shall leave extreames, and to be blist,
Rest in your midst where vertue doth consist.

49.

Umbras non certus metuit.

Mistrisse Maryna starts to see a frog,
A naked rapier or a creeping mouse:
To hear a Gun, or barking mastive dog,
Or smell Tobacco, that defiles her house,
To taste of fish, no man alive shall woe her,
Yet feares she not what flesh can doe unto her.

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Although they seeme us onely to affect,

'Tis their content, not ours, they most respect: They for their own ends cunningly can feigne,

And though they have 't by nature, yet they'll strain : Sure if on earth, by wiles gain'd might be blisse, Straight that I were a woman I would wish.

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Follow a shaddow it still flies you,

Seeme to fly, it will pursue :

So court a mistrisse shee denies you,
Let her alone, she will court you.
Say are not women truely then

Stil'd but the shadowes of us men?

At morne and even shades are longest,
At noone they are, or short or none :
So men at weakest they are strongest ;
But grant us perfect they're not known.
Say are not women truely then
Stil'd but the shadowes of us men?

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Take, oh take those lips away,
That so sweetly were for-sworne :
And those eies like breake of day,
Lights that doe mislead the morne :
But my kisses bring againe,

Seales of love, though seal'd in vaine.

Hide, oh hide those hills of snow,
Which thy frozen bosome beares :
On whose tops the pinkes that grow,
Are of those that Aprill weares:

But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those icie chaines by thee.

53. In Diogenem & Cræsum.

When the tubb'd Cynicke went to hell, and there,
Found the pale ghost of golden Cræsus bare,
Hee stops; and jeering till he shrugges againe,
Sayes O! thou richest king of kings, what gaine
Have all thy large heapes brought thee, since I spie
Thee here alone, and poorer now then I?
For all I had, I with me bring; but thou
Of all thy wealth hast not one farthing now.

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