Fearful, to perk him by the Eagle's side: The speedy post of Ganymede replied – The Fly craved pity; still the Eagle frown'd: Ready to die, Disgraced, displaced, fell groveling to the ground : The Eagle saw, And with a royal mind said to the Fly- I scorn by me the meanest creature die : SWEET CONTENT WEET are the thoughts that savour of content; SWE The quiet mind is richer than a crown ; Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent ; The homely house that harbours quiet rest, Doth rule and govern all the Gods : Smooth-faced Love, Is sweetest sweet that man can have : Sour Love, Makes Virtue yield as Beauty's slave: Love is sweet: Wherein sweet? In fading pleasures that do pain ? Is that sweet That yieldeth sorrow for a gain? If Love's sweet, Herein sweet That minutes' joys are monthly woes: 'Tis not sweet That is sweet Nowhere but where repentance grows. Labour for me! love rest in prince's bower! MICHAEL DRAYTON WHAT LOVE IS WHAT HAT IS LOVE but the desire Of that thing the fancy pleaseth? A holy and resistless fire Weak and strong alike that seizeth : Which not Heaven hath power to let, Nor wise Nature can not smother; Whereby Phoebus doth beget On the Universal Mother: Which together all things tied, In which every thing doth move, When the cunning hand doth strike, Whereas every amorous sound Sweetly marries with the like. The tender cattle scarcely take From their dams, the fields to prove, Doth dislike and will not bear. ROWLAND'S ROUNDELAY To whom Her Swain, unworthy though he were, To whom the rest the under-part did bear, Casting upon Her their still longing eyes. ROWLAND — Of her pure eyes, that now is seen, CHORUS-Come, let us sing, ye faithful swains! - O She alone the Shepherds' Queen, ROWLAND CHORUS - Her flock that leads : ROWLAND The Goddess of these meads, - Those eyes of hers that are more clear CHORUS- Fie on that praise In striving things to raise That doth but make them less! ROWLAND CHORUS ROWLAND That do the flowery Spring prolong, And keep the plenteous Summer young, CHORUS - And do assuage The wrathful Winter's rage That would our flocks annoy. ROWLAND - Jove saw her breast that naked lay, The path, we us assure, To his bright court to be. ROWLAND He saw her tresses hanging down, The Gods should not regard, Nor Berenice's Hair. ROWLAND When She hath watch'd my flocks by night, ROWLAND - They never needed Cynthia's light, ROWLAND CHORUS ROWLAND Amazed with her grace That did attend thy sheep. Above, where heaven's high glories are, She shall be call'd the Shepherds' Star : CHORUS And evermore We shepherds will adore Her setting and her rise. |