If love hath lent you twenty thousand tongues, And every tongue more moving than your own, Bewitching like the wanton mermaid's fongs, Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown. For know, my heart ftands armed in my ear, And will not let a falfe found enter there :

Left the deceiving harmony fhould run
Into the quiet clofure of my breaft;
And then my little heart were quite undone,
In his bedchamber to be barr'd of reft.

No, lady, no, my heart longs not to groan,
But foundly fleeps, while now it fleeps alone.

What have you urg'd, that I cannot reprove?
The path is fmooth that leadeth unto danger.
I hate not love, but your device in love,
That lends embracements unto every ftranger.
You do it for increafe; O ftrange excuse!
When reason is the bawd to luft's abuse.

Call it not love, for love to heaven is fled,
Since fweating luft on earth ufurps his name;
Under whofe fimple semblance he hath fed
Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame :
Which the hot tyrant ftains, and foon bereaves,
As caterpillars do the tender leaves.

Love comforteth like fun-fhine after rain;
But luft's effect is tempeft after fun:

Love's gentle fpring doth always fresh remain :
Luft's winter.comes, ere fummer half be done :
Love furfeits not; luft like a glutton dies:
Love is all truth; luft full of forged lyes.

"Verions

are the

mbings of this the

greatest faculty f the hu=

-man mind,

Magination,

30

:

More I could tell, but more I dare not fay;
The text is old, the orator too green
Therefore in fadness now I will away,
My face is full of fhame, my heart of teen:
Mine ears, that to your wanton calls attended,
Do burn themselves for having so offended.

With this, he breaketh from the fweet embrace
Of those fair arms, which bound him to her breast:
And homeward thro' the dark lanes runs apace;
Leaves Love upon her back deeply diftrefs'd.

Look how a bright ftar fhooteth from the fky,
So glides he in the night from Venus' eye.
Which after him she darts, as one on shore,
Gazing upon a late embarked friend,

Till the wild waves will have him feen no more,
Whofe ridges with the meeting clouds contend:
So did the mercilefs and pitchy night,

Fold in the Object, that did feed her fight.

Whereat amaz'd, as one that unaware
Hath dropt a precious jewel in the flood;
Or stonish'd, as night-wanderers often are,
irate Their light blown out in fome miftruftful wood:

and haw.

-quil. M

A

Even fo confounded in the dark she lay,
Having loft the fair discovery of her way.

it tranquil And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans,
That all the neighbour caves, as feeming troubled,
and puely Make verbal repetition of her moans:
pleasunde Paffion on paffion deeply is redoubled.
Meration, Ay me! the cries, and twenty times, woe! woe!
it act, chiefly, And twenty echoes twenty times cry so.

by creating moof many things, as they would have appeared in the description of an N = - divary mind, detailed in un impassioned nateure, maccession, a oneness, Evew as the greatest of posts, acts upon us, when mo open or exces upon an extended pentr one

She marking them, begins a wailing note,
And fings extemp'rally a woful ditty:

How love makes young men thrall, and old men dote;
How love is wife in folly, foolish witty:

Her heavy anthem ftill concludes in woe!
And ftill the choir of echoes answers fo.

Her fong was tedious, and out-wore the night,
For lovers hours are long, tho' feeming fhort:
If pleas'd themselves, others they think delight
In fuch-like circumftance, with fuch-like sport.
Their copious ftories, oftentimes begun,

End without audience, and are never done.

For who hath fhe to spend the night withal,
But idle founds, refembling parafites?
Like fhrill-tongu'd tapfters answering every call,
Soothing the humour of fantaftick wits.

She faid, 'tis fo: they answer all, 'tis fo,
And would fay after her, if fhe faid no.

Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of reft,
From his moift cabinet mounts up on high,
And wakes the morning, from whose filver breast
The fun arifeth in his majefty:

Who doth the world fo gloriously behold,
The cedar-tops and hills feem burnish'd gold.

Venus falutes him with this fair good-morrow: O thou clear god, and patron of all light! From whom each lamp and fhining ftar doth borrow The beauteous influence, that makes him bright: There lives a fon, that fuck'd an earthly mother, May lend thee light, as thou doft lend to other. they the Night of adonis in the dusk of the hight star to " How images and feelings are here brought togethe without effort and without discord, in the beauty ptionis, the rapidity of his flight, the yearning, yet hopelessness, of the examored gages, while

kering:

"many

"Look has a

a

This faid, fhe hafteth to a myrtle grove,
Mufing the morning is fo much o'er-worn:
And yet fhe hears no tidings of her love:
She hearkens for his hounds, and for his horn;
Anon fhe hears them chaunt it luftily,

And all in hafte she coafteth to the cry.

way,

And as fhe runs, the bushes in the
Some catch her by the neck, fome kifs her face,
Some twine about her thigh, to make her ftay;
She wildly breaketh from their ftrict embrace,

Like a milch doe, whofe fwelling dugs do ake,
Hafting to feed her fawn, hid in fome brake.

By this the hears the hounds are at a bay,
Whereat she starts, like one that spies an adder,
Wreath'd up in fatal folds, juft in his way,
The fear whereof doth make him shake and shudder:
Ev'n fo the timorous yelping of the hounds,
Appals her fenfes, and her fp'rit confounds.

For now fhe knows it is no gentle chafe,
But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud;
Because the cry remaineth in one place,
Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud:
Finding their enemy to be fo curst,

They all ftrain curt'fy who shall cope him first.

This dismal cry rings fadly in her ear,
Thro' which it enters, to furprize her heart;
Who overcome by doubt and bloodless fear,
With cold pale weakness numbs each feeling part:
Like foldiers, when their captain once doth yield;
They bafely fly, and dare not stay the field.

shadowry ideal character in thinn on the whole! S.7.C.

Thus ftands the in a trembling extasy,
Till cheering up her fenfes fore difmaid,
She tells them 'tis a causeless fantasy,
And childish error, that they are afraid;

Bids them leave quaking, wills them fear no more:
And with that word, the spy'd the hunted boar.

Whose frothy mouth bepainted all with red,
Like milk and blood being mingled both together,
A fecond fear thro' all her finews spread,
Which madly hurries her fhe knows not whither.
This way The runs, and now fhe will no further,
But back retires, to rate the boar for murder.

A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways,
She treads the paths that the untreads again;
Her more than hafte is marred with delays:
Like the proceedings of a drunken brain,

Full of refpect, yet not at all refpecting;
In hand with all things, nought at all effecting.

Here kennel'd in a brake, fhe finds an hound,
And asks the weary caitiff for his master;
And there another licking of his wound,
'Gainst venom'd fores the only fovereign plaifter:
And here she meets another fadly fcolding,
To whom the speaks, and he replies with howling.

When he had ceas'd his ill-refounding noise,
Another flap-mouth'd mourner, black and grim,
Against the welkin vollies out his voice;
Another and another answer him,

Clapping their proud tails to the ground below, Shaking their fcratcht ears, bleeding as they go.

C