If she be fickle, shepherd, leave to woo, Or fancy me.-"No: thou art woman too." What grows upon this cheek?" A pure carnation." BOTH. Ah, Love, and canst thou never lose the field? JOHN MILTON, Born 1608, died 1674. TO THE NIGHTINGALE. O NIGHTINGALE! that on yon bloomy spray when all the woods are still; Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh; As thou from year to year hast sung too late For my relief, yet hadst no reason why : Whether the Muse, or Love call thee his mate, Both them I serve, and of their train am I. SIR JOHN SUCKLING, Born 1609, died 1641. SONG. WHY so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Prithee, why so pale ? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? . Prithee, why so mute? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Saying nothing do't? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit for shame; this will not move This cannot take her : If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her. The devil take her! * A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING. I TELL thee, Dick, where I have been, At Charing-cross, hard by the way And there did I see coming down Such folk as are not in our town, Forty at least, in pairs. Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine (His beard no bigger, though, than thine) Walk'd on before the rest : Our landlord looks like nothing to him; * Occasioned by the marriage of Roger Boyle, the first earl of Orrery (then Lord Broghill), with Lady Margaret Howard, daughter of the Earl of Suffolk.-ELLIS. At course-a-park, without all doubt, Or Vincent of the Crown. But, wot you what? the youth was going To make an end of all his wooing; The parson for him staid ;. Yet, by his leave, for all his haste, The maid (and thereby hangs a tale; No grape that's kindly ripe could be Her finger was so small, the ring It was too wide a peck : And to say truth, for out it must, Her feet beneath her petticoat, As if they fear'd the light: But, oh! she dances such a way— Is half so fine a sight! Her cheeks so rare a white was on, (Who sees them is undone ;) For streaks of red were mingled there, Her lips were red, and one was thin, (Some bee had stung it newly); Than on the sun in July. Her mouth so small when she does speak, Thou 'dst swear her teeth her words did break, That they might passage get; But she so handled still the matter, They came as good as ours, or better, And are not spent a whit. * |