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Sitring in a pleasant shade, Which a grove of myrtles made, Beasts did leap, and birds did fing, Trees did grow, and plants did spring : Every thing did banish moan, : Save the nightingale alone; She (poor bird !) as all forlorn, -Lean'd her breast up-till å thorn, And there sung the dolefull’st ditty, .. That to hear it was great pity : Fie, fie, fie, now would the cry; Tereu, Tereu, by and by ; That to hear her so complain, Scarce I could from tears refrain: For her griefs so lovely shown, Made me think upon mine own. Ah! (thought I)thou mourn'st in vain, ... None takes pity on thy pain: Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee ; ; Ruthless bears, they will not chear thee ; **, King Pandion he is dead All thy friends are lap'a in lead; All thy fellow.birds do fing, Careless of thy forrowing: Whilft as fickle fortune smild, Thou and I were both beguild; Every one that flatters thee, Is no friend in misery. Words are easy; like the wind, Faithful friends are hard to find : Every man will be-thy friend, Whilst thou haft wherewith to spend ::: But if store of crowns be scant, No man will supply thy want.

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If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call :-
And with such-like flattering,
Fity but he was a king.
If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice.
If to women he be bent,
They have him at commandmentr
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewel his great renown':
They that fawn’d on him before, ,
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need:
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou awake, he cannot feepa
Thus of every grief in heart,
He with thee doth bear a part,
These are certain signs, to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.

A Request to his Scornful Love:

When thou shalt be dispos’d to set me lights.
And place my.merit in the eye of scorn,
Upon thy fide, - against thyself I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, tho thou art forsworn.
With mines own weakness being best acquainted,
Upon thy part I can set down a story
Of faults conceald, wherein I am attainted :
That thou in losing me shalt win much glory:.
And I by this will be a gainer too.
For bending all my loving thoughts on thee ;.,
The injuries that to myself I do,
Doing thee 'vantage, double 'vantage me.

Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
That for thy right, myself will bear all wrong.:-

Say that thou didst forsake me for some faulty
And I will comment upon that offence ;
Speak of my lameness, and I ftrait will halt;
Against thy reasons making no defence.
Thou canst not (love) disgrace me half so ill,-
To set a form upon desired change,
As l'll myself disgrace ; knowing thy will,
I will acquaintance strangle, and look strange ;-
Be absent from thy walks, and on my tongue
Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell,
Left I (too much profane) should do it wrong,
And haply of our old acquaintance tell.

For thee, against myself, I'll vow debate ;
For I must ne'er love him, whom thou dost hate.

Then hate me when thou wilt ; if ever, now,
Now while the world is bent my deeds to cross-
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
And do not drop in for an after loss :
Ah! do not, when my heart hath 'scap'd this forrow,
Come in the rereward of a conquer'd woe!.
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,...
To linger out a purpos'd overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last;
When other petty griefs have done their spite ;--
But in the onset come, so shall I taste
At first the very worst of fortune's might.

And other strains of woe, which now seem woegr
Compar'd with loss of thee, will not seem fo.

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, Some in their wealth, some in their bodies forceg,

Some in their garments, tho' new-fangled ill ;
Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse:
And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest.
But these particulars are not my measureg.
All these I better, in one general belt.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments cost ;
Of more delight than hawks or horses be:
And having thee, of all mens pride I boast.

Wretched in this alone, that thou may'st take
All this away, and me most wretched make.

A Lover's Affection, though his Love prove Unconstanta

But do thy worft to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art affured mine ;
And life no longer than my love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs,
When in the least of them my life hath end ;
I see a better state to me belongs,
Than that which on my humour doth depend.
Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie;
Oh! what a happy title do I find,
Happy to have thy love, happy to die !

But what's so blessed fair, that fears no blot ??:
Thou may'st be false,, and yet I know it not.

So fhall. I live, fuppofing-thou art true,
Like a deceived husband; fo love's face.
May still seem love to me, tho'alter'd new ;
Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place,

For there can live no hatred in-thine eye,
Therefore in that I cannot know thy change.
In manies looks the false heart's history
Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange :
But heaven in thy creation did decree,
That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell ;
Whate'er thy thoughts, or thy heart's workings be,
Thy hooks shall nothing thence but sweetness tell.

How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow,
If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show!

They that have power to hurts and will do noney
That do not do the thing they must do, show;
Who moving others, are themselves as stone-
Unmoved, cold and to temptation Now:-
They rightly do inherit Heaven's graces,
And husband nature's riches from expence ;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Tho' to itself it only live and dié';:
But if that flower with base infection meet;.
The bafest weed out-braves his dignity:

For sweetest things-turn fourest by their deeds ; ;
Lilies, that fester, smell far worse than weeds.

How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame,
Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose,
Doth {pot the beauty of thy budding name?
Oh! in what sweets doli thou thy fins inclose !
That tongue that tells the story of thy days,
(Making lascivious comments on thy sport)
Cannot difpraise, but in a kind of praise ;
Naming thy name, blefles an ill report.

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