Who sits like hags in hellish gates,

And seeks still whom they may destroy.
Some say again 'tis destiny;

But how it comes, or what it is,

I let it pass, before I miss.

Despite doth always work my woe,

And hap as yet holds hardly still:
For fear I set my friendship so,

And think again to reap good will.
I do but strive against the wind,

For more I seek, the less I find:
And where I seek most for to please,
There find I always my disease.
And thus I love, and do reap still,
Nothing but hate for my good will.
Finis. L. Vaux."

ART. DCCCXXII. Extracts from England's Par

nassus. 1600.

"Solitariness.

"Sweet Solitary life, thou true repose,

Wherein the wise contemplate heaven aright,

In thee no dread of war, or worldly foes;
In thee no pomp seduceth mortal sight!
In thee no wanton ears to win with woes,
Nor lurking toys, which silly life affords."

"Amidst a dark thick wood there is a cave, Whose entrance is with ivy overspread;

Dr. Lodge.

They have no light within, nor none they crave:
Here Sleep doth couch her overdrowsy head,

And Sloth lies by, that seems the gout to have;
And Idleness not so well taught as fed.
They point Forgetfulness the gate to keep,

That none come out or in to hinder Sleep.
She knows no means of men, nor none will learn ;
Their messages she list not understand;
She knows no business doth her concern:
Silence is centinel of all this band;

And unto those he coming doth discern

To come too near, he beckons with his hand: He treadeth soft; his shoes are made of felt; His garments short, and girded with a belt."

"The same.

Sir J. Harington.

"By Care lay heavy Sleep, the cousin of death,
Flat on the ground, and still as any stone;
A very corpse, save yielding forth a breath.

Small keep took he, whom Fortune frowned on,
On whom she lifted up into the throne

Of high renown; but as a living death,
So dead alive, of life he drew the breath."

"Silence.

M. Sackville.

"Dumb Silence, sworn attendant on black Night,
Thou, that hast power to close up Murmur's jaw;
To stop the barking of the watchful hound,
And charm the gagling of those waking fowl,

That sav'd Jove's Capitol, mild Queen of Rest!"

"Love.

Tho. Dekkar.

"At Venus' entreaty for Cupid her son

These arrows by Vulcan were cunningly done.

The first is Love, as here you may behold,
His feathers, head, and body are of gold.
The second shaft is Hate, a foe to Love,

And bitter are his torments for to prove.

The third is Hope, from whence our comfort springs;
His feathers are pulled from Fortune's wings.
Fourth, Jealousy in basest minds doth dwell.

His metal Vulcan's Cyclops sent from Hell."

G. Peele.

ART. DCCCXXIII. Old Madrigals.

j.

O let me liue for true loue, yet let me liue no longer,
Then that my life may make my loue the stronger.

ij.

O let me dye for true loue [and faithfull passion show] Let not hope or old time come to end my woe.

iij.

O, yes! has any found a lad,

With purple wings faire painted;

I naked beauty clad

With bowe and arrowes tainted:

Here, alas! close he lyeth,

Take him quicke before he flyeth.

iiij. (First part.)

Weepe no more thou sorry boy,

Loue's pleas'd and anger'd with a toy.

Tenor. Songs of 3. 4. 5. and 6 parts, by Thomas Tomkins: Organist of his Maiesties Chappell Royall in Ordinary. London: Printed for Matthew Lownes, John Browne, and Thomas Snodham. Cum priuilegio. 4to. n. d. Dedicated to the Earl of Pembroke, contains twentyeight pieces, and has a few lines prefixed "to my brother the avthor" by John T.

Loue a thousand passions brings,
Laughs and weepes, and sighs, and sings,
If she smiles, he dancing goes,

And thinkes not on his future woes;

If she chide, with angry eye

Sits downe and sighs, aye me, I dye!

v. (Second part.)

Yet againe, as soone reuiued,
Joys as much as late he grieued;
Change there is of ioy, and sadnes,
Sorrow much but more of gladnes:
Then weep no more, thou sorry boy,
Turn thy teares to weeping ioy;
Sigh no more, aye me I die,
But dance & sing, and tihy cry.

vj.

Too much I once lamented,
While loue my hart tormented;
Alas, and aye me, sat I wrynging,
Now chanting goe, and singing.

vij.

Come shepheards sing with me;
Loue, now we hate thy lore,
More than we lou'd before;
From hence we all haue swore,
To loue false loue no more.

viij.

Phillis now cease to moue me,
For I shall neuer loue thee;
Content thee, I haue swore

To loue false loue no more.

viiij.

Adew, adew, ye citty prisoning towers,
Better are the country bowers;

Winter is gone, the trees are springing,

Birds on euery hedge sit singing.

Harke, how they chirpe, come, loue, delay not,

Come, come, sweet loue, Oh come and stay not.

X.

Fvsca, in thy starry eyes,

Loue in blacke still mourning dyes,

That among so many slaine,

[No one checks thy truant reigne.]

J. H.

ART. DCCCXXIV. Old Poetry.

[Lycence to lyue at ese.

The seven deadly sins form a principal part of the Persones Tale told in prose by Chaucer; with which tale the author of the following lines seemed fully acquainted. They are transcribed from the Hawkins MS. in the Shepherd's Kalendar, as containing a poem ascribed to Lydgate, and are similar to his manner and prosaic style. The original is written as prose, with the commencement of each stanza distinguished by a paragraph in red ink.]

"As I walkyd vppon a day,

To take the aere off felds and flowre;

In a mery morenynge off May,

Whenn flowrys were full off swete flauowre;

I hurd one say, O God, ver ray! a

How longe shall I dure yn my dolour?

And onn bis kneys he began to pray;

Now, good God! send me thy succour,

a Truly.