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Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon vaded,
Pluck'd in the bud, and vaded in the spring!
Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely shaded!
Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting!
Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree,
And falls, through wind, before the fall should be.

I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have;
For why? thou left'st me nothing in thy will.
And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave;
For why? I craved nothing of thee still :

O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee
The discontent thou did'st bequeath to me.
W. Shakspere.

Sonnets
(From Idea)

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OVE banish'd heaven, in earth was held in scorn;

Wand'ring abroad in need and beggary: And wanting friends, though of a goddess born, Yet crav'd the alms of such as passed by. I, like a man devout and charitable,

Clothed the naked, lodged this wand'ring guest; With sighs and tears still furnishing his table, With what might make the miserable blest. But this ungrateful, for my good desert, Intic'd my thoughts, against me to conspire; Who gave consent to steal away my heart, And set my breast, his lodging, on a fire.

Well, well, my friends! when beggars grow thus

bold;

No marvel then, though Charity grow cold.

Dear! why should you command me to my rest, When now the night doth summon all to sleep? Methinks this time becometh lovers best!

Night was ordain'd, together friends to keep. How happy are all other living things,

Which, though the day disjoin by several flight, The quiet ev'ning yet together brings,

And each returns unto his love at night! O thou that art so courteous else to all,

Why should'st thou, Night! abuse me only thus, That ev'ry creature to his kind dost call, And yet 'tis thou dost only sever us? Well could I wish it would be ever day, If, when night comes, you bid me go away!

Clear Ankor, on whose silver-sanded shore,
My soul-shrin'd saint, my fair IDEA lies,
O blessed brook, whose milk-white swans adore
Thy chrystal stream refinèd by her eyes,
Where sweet myrrhe-breathing zephir in the
spring

Gently distils his nectar-dropping showers,
Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing,
Amongst the dainty dew-impearled flowers;
Say thus, fair brook, when thou shalt see thy queen,
"Lo, here thy shepherd spent his wand'ring years,

And in these shades, dear nymph, he oft had been

And here to thee he sacrific'd his tears:

Fair Arden, thou my Tempe art alone,
And thou, sweet Ankor, art my Helicon."

Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part.
Nay, I have done, you get no more of me,
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free.
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows,

That we one jot of former love retain ;
Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath,
When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes :

Now if thou would'st, when all have given him over, From death to life thou might'st him yet recover. Michael Drayton.

Essays XXX and CCVII

(From The Tatler)

THE

'HE vigilance, the anxiety, the tenderness which I have for the good people of England, I am persuaded, will in time be much commended: but I doubt whether they will ever be rewarded. However, I must go on cheerfully in my work of reformation that being my great design, I am studious to prevent my labours increasing upon

me; therefore am particularly observant of the temper and inclinations of childhood and youth, that we may not give vice and folly supplies from the growing generation. It is hardly to be imagined how useful this study is, and what great evils or benefits arise from putting us in our tender years to what we are fit and unfit: therefore on Tuesday last (with a design to sound their inclinations) I took three lads, who are under my guardianship, a rambling in a hackney coach, to shew them the town; as the Lions, the Tombs, Bedlam, and the other places which are entertainments to raw minds, because they strike forcibly on the fancy. The boys are brothers, one of sixteen, the other of fourteen, the other of twelve. The first was his father's darling, the second his mother's, and the third is mine, who am their uncle. Mr. William is a lad of true genius, but being at the upper end of a great school, and having all the boys below him, his arrogance is insupportable. If I begin to shew a little of my Latin, he immediately interrupts"Uncle, under favour, that which you say is not understood in that manner."-" Brother," says my boy Jack, "you do not shew your manners much in contradicting my Uncle Isaac."-" You queer cur," says Mr. William, "do you think my uncle takes any notice of such a dull rogue as you are?" Mr. William goes on-" He is the most stupid of all my mother's children: he knows nothing of his book; when he should mind that he is hiding or hoarding his taws and marbles, or laying up far

things. His way of thinking is, 'Four-and-twenty farthings make sixpence, and two sixpences a shilling, two shillings and sixpence half a crown, and two half-crowns five shillings.' So within these two months, the close hunks has scraped up twenty shillings, and we will make him spend it all before he comes home." Jack immediately claps his hands into both pockets and turns as pale as ashes. There is nothing touches a parent (and such I am to Jack) so nearly as a provident conduct. This lad has in him the true temper for a good husband, a kind father, and an honest executor. All the great people you see make considerable figures on the Exchange, in court, and sometimes in senates, are such as in reality have no greater faculty than what may be called human instinct, which is a natural tendency to their own preservation and that of their friends, without being capable of striking out of the road for adventures. There is Sir William Scrip who was of this sort of capacity from his childhood; he has bought up the country round him, and makes a bargain better than Sir Harry Wildfire, with all his wit and humour. Sir Harry never wants money but he comes to Scrip, laughs at him half an hour, and then gives bond for the other thousand. The close men are incapable of placing merit anywhere but in their pence, and therefore gain it; while others, who have larger capacities, are diverted from the pursuit of enjoyments, which can be supported only by that cash which they despise, and therefore are

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