That wit even to the skies hath glory won.
O eyes that pierce our hearts without remorse!
O hairs of right that wear a royal crown!

O hands that conquer more than Cæsar's force!
O wit that turns huge kingdoms upside down!

ANON.

THERE is a lady sweet and kind,1

Was never face so pleased my mind;

I did but see her passing by,
And yet I love her till I die.

Her gesture, motion, and her smiles,
Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart, I know not why,
And yet I love her till I die.

Cupid is winged and doth range,
Her country so my love doth change;
But change she earth, or change she sky,
Yet will I love her till I die.

SONG..

WEEP eyes, break heart!

My love and I must part.

ANON.

Cruel fates true love do soonest sever :
O, I shall see thee, never, never, never!
O, happy is the maid whose life takes end
Ere it knows parents' frown or loss of friend!
Weep eyes, break heart!

My love and I must part.

THOMAS MIDDLETON

1 From Forde's Music of Sundry Kinds. Three verses of six.

FOR CHARIS1

EE the chariot at hand here of Love,

SEE

Wherein my Lady rideth!

Each that draws is a swan or a dove,

And well the car Love guideth.

As she goes, all hearts do duty
Unto her beauty;

And enamour'd, do wish, so they might
But enjoy such a sight,

That they still were to run by her side,

Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride.

Do but look on her eyes, they do light
All that Love's world compriseth!
Do but look on her hair, it is bright
As Love's star when it riseth!

Do but mark, her forehead's smoother

Than words that soothe her: And from her arched brows, such a grace Sheds itself through the face,

As alone there triumphs to the life

All the gain, all the good of the elements' strife.

Have you seen but a bright lily grow

Before rude hands have touch'd it?

Have you

mark'd but the fall of the snow

Before the soil hath smutch'd it?

Have

you felt the wool of the beaver ?

Or swan's down ever?

1 The second and third stanzas, so exquisite in their beauty, are from "The Devil is an Ass" (1616). The whole song, however, appeared in Underwoods in 1640.

Or have smelt o' the bud of the briar?
Or the nard in the fire?

Or have tasted the bag of the bee?

O, so white! O, so soft! O, so sweet is she!

DR

TO CELIA 1

BEN JONSON

RINK to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;

Or leave a kiss but in the cup

And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine;

But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee,
As giving it a hope, that there

It could not wither'd be ;
But thou thereon didst only breathe,

And sent'st it back to me;

Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee!

BEN JONSON

Он

SONG 2

H do not wanton with those eyes,
Lest I be sick with seeing;

Nor cast them down, but let them rise,
Lest shame destroy their being.

1 The Ninth Song in The Forest.
2 From Underwoods.

Oh be not angry with those fires,
For then their threats will kill me ;
Nor look too kind on my desires,
For then my hopes will spill me.

Oh do not steep them in thy tears,
For so will sorrow slay me;
Nor spread them as distract with fears;
Mine own enough betray me.

BEGGING ANOTHER 1

BEN JONSON

FOR Love and should not beg in vain.

'OR Love's sake, kiss me once again!

I

Here's none to spy, or see; Why do you doubt or stay?

I'll taste as lightly as the bee,

That doth but touch his flower, and flies

Once more, and, faith, I will be gone,
Can he that loves ask less than one?
Nay, you may err in this,

And all your bounty wrong:

away.

This could be call'd but half a kiss ;
What we're but once to do, we should do long.

I will but mend the last, and tell

Where, how, it would have relish'd well ;

Join lip to lip, and try :

Each suck the other's breath,

And whilst our tongues perplexed lie,

Let who will think us dead, or wish our death.

1 From Underwoods.

BEN JONSON

HIS EXCUSE FOR LOVING 1

LET it not your wonder move,

Less your laughter, that I love,
Though I now write fifty years :
I have had and have my peers.
Poets, though divine, are men;
Some have loved as old again.
And it is not always face,
Clothes, or fortune, gives the grace,
Or the feature, or the youth;
But the language, and the truth
With the ardour and the passion,
Gives the lover weight and fashion.
If
you then will read the story,
First prepare you to be sorry
That you never knew till now
Either whom to love or how ;
But be glad as soon, with me,
When you know that this is She
Of whose beauty it was sung,-
She shall make the old man young,
Keep the middle age at stay,
And let nothing high decay,
Till she be the reason why

All the world for love

may die.

BEN JONSON

DEA

THE DREAM

EAR love, for nothing less than thee
Would I have broke this happy dream;
It was a theme

For reason, much too strong for fantasy.

1 From Underwoods.