I rather chuse to want relief

Than venture the revealing;
Where glory recommends the grief,
Despair disdains the healing.

Silence in love betrays more woe
Than words, tho' ne'er so witty;
A beggar that is dumb, you know,
May challenge double pity.

Then wrong not, dearest to my heart,
My love for secret passion;

He smarteth most who hides his smart,
And sues for no compassion.

A NYMPH'S DISDAIN OF LOVE.

HEY down a down, did Dian sing,
Amongst her virgins sitting,

Than love there is no vainer thing

For maidens most unfitting:

And so think I, with a down down derry.

When women knew no woe,

But liv'd themselves to please,

Men's feigning guiles they did not know,

The ground of their disease.

Unborn was false Suspect;

No thought of Jealousy;

From wanton toys and fond affect

The virgin's life was free:

Hey down adown, did Dian sing, &c.

Hey down a down, did Dian sing,
Amongst her virgins sitting,

Than love there is no vainer thing,
For maidens most unfitting.

A VISION UPON THE FAIRY QUEEN.

METHOUGHT I saw the grave where Laura lay,
Within that temple where the vestal flame
Was wont to burn: and passing by that way
To see that buried dust of living fame,

Whose tomb fair Love and fairer Virtue kept,
All suddenly I saw the Fairy Queen,

At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept;
And from thenceforth those Graces were not seen,
For they this Queen attended; in whose stead
Oblivion laid him down on Laura's hearse.
Hereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed,
And groans of buried ghosts the heavens did pierce,
Where Homer's spright did tremble all for grief,
And curs'd th' access of that cœlestial thief.

THE SHEPHERD'S DESCRIPTION OF LOVE.

Ascribed to Sir W. Raleigh in England's Helicon.

Melibaeus. SHEPHERD, what's love? I pray thee tell.
Faustus. It is that fountain and that well

Where pleasure and repentance dwell;
It is, perhaps, that sauncing bell
That tolls all into heav'n or hell,
And this is love as I heard tell.

M. Yet, what is love? I prithee say.
It is a work on holiday;

F.

It is December match'd with May,
When lusty blood 's in fresh array,
And this is love as I hear say.

M. Yet, what is love? good shepherd, sain.
It is a sunshine mixt with rain;

F.

It is a toothache, or like pain;
It is a game where none doth gain;
The lass saith no, and would full fain,
And this is love as I hear sain.

M. Yet, shepherd, what is love, I pray?

F.

It is a yea, it is a nay,

A pretty kind of sporting fray,

It is a thing will soon away;

Then nymphs take vantage while you

may,

And this is love as I hear say.

M. And what is love, good shepherd, shew?

F.

A thing that creeps, it cannot go;

A prize that passeth to and fro;
A thing for one, a thing for moe,
And he that proves shall find it so ;
And, shepherd, this is love, I trow.

DULCINA.

As at noon Dulcina rested

In her sweet and shady bower, Came a shepherd, and requested In her lap to sleep an hour. But from her look

A wound he took

So deep, that for a farther boon
The nymph he prays;

Whereto she says,

"Forego me now, come to me soon!"

But in vain she did conjure him

To depart her presence so,

Having a thousand tongues t' allure him,

And but one to bid him go.

When lips invite,

And eyes delight,

And cheeks, as fresh as rose in June,
Persuade delay,

What boots to say,

"Forego me now, come to me soon !

He demands, what time for pleasure
Can there be more fit than now?
She says, night gives love that leisure
Which the day doth not allow.
He says, the sight

Improves delight;

Which she denies; "Night's murky noon In Venus' plays

Makes bold," she says,

Forego me now, come to me soon!"

But what promise, or profession,

From his hands could purchase scope?

Who would sell the sweet possession

Of such beauty for a hope?