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From the Golden Age, by Thomas Heywoodi 161.
$, Tell me what
thinke on earth
If love be banished the heart,
Or ample wealth,
Or want of health?
That these should wait on highest states.
Chorus. Love only does our soules refine,
And by his skill
And guides our will.
From the Shepheards Holy-day. 1635.
BY VENUS AND THE GRACES.
Come, lovely boy, unto my court,
But keepe away the honey and the sport.
Come unto me,
And with variety
There is no musique in a voice
To fright poore lovers from a better choice.
Orpheus that on Euridice
Finds the reward of foolish constancy.
Come then to me
And sigh no more for one love lost,
Thy mis-spent labours and thy better cost.
From the same.
What need we use many beseeches,
If we love, tis enough,
Hang poetical stuff,
If we love, &c.
Why should we stand whining like fools,
If they love, we'll repayt,
If not, let em sayt,
If they love, &c.
But they must be won by romances,
A third do's delight
In a song, yet at night
If they love, &c.
This must be extolled to the sky
But that ladis for me,
That loves fine and free,
But that ladis for &c.
From the English Rogue, by T. Thompson. 1668.
Fond Love, no more
Thy fei ned Deity.
And prove thy victory.
Whilst I do keep
Love hath no power on me.
The busie man is free.
From Loves Labyrinth, or the Royal Shepherdess, by Tho. Forde Philothal. 1660.
Thine eyes to me like sunnes appeare,
Or brighter starres their light,
Or else a day of night:
Thy brow is as the milky way,
Whereon the gods might trace
Or nectar of thy face.
But to speake truely, I doe vowe,
Thy cheeke it is a mingled bath
Of lillyes and of roses;
Thy nose a promontory faire,
Thy necke a necke of land;
All men amazed do stand.
For foure lines in passion I can dye,
As is the lovers guise,
Whilst love possest the wise.
From the Variety. A Comedy. 1649.
Not hee that knows how to acquire,
But to enjoy, is blest;
In motion, but in rest.