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PARIS. Enone, while we bin disposed to walk,
Tell me, what shall be subject of our talk?

Thou hast a sort of pretty tales in store;

'Dare say no nymph in Ida's woods hath more.

Again, beside thy sweet alluring face,

In telling them thou hast a special grace.

Then prithee, sweet, afford some pretty thing,

Some toy that from thy pleasant wit doth spring.

CENONE. Paris, my heart's contentment and my choice,

Use thou thy pipe, and I will use my voice;

So shall thy just request not be denied,

And time well spent, and both be satisfied.

PARIS. Well, gentle nymph, although thou do me wrong,
That can ne tune my pipe unto a song,
Me list, this once, Enone, for thy sake,
This idle task on me to undertake.

CENONE. And whereon then shall be my roundelay?
For thou hast heard my store long since, 'dare say-
How Saturn did divide his kingdom tho'

To Jove, to Neptune, and to Dis below;
How mighty men made foul successless war

Against the Gods and State of Jupiter;

How Phorcyas' 'ympe, that was so trick and fair,
That tangled Neptune in her golden hair,
Became a Gorgon for her lewd misdeed ;-
A pretty fable, Paris, for to read;

A piece of cunning, trust me for the nonce,
That wealth and beauty alter men to stones :
How Salmacis, resembling Idleness,
Turns men to women, all thro' wantonness;

How Pluto raught Queen Ceres' daughter thence,
And what did follow of that love-offence;

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Of Daphne turned into the Laurel Tree,
That shews a mirror of virginity;

How fair Narcissus, tooting on his shade,
Reproves disdain, and tells how form doth vade;
How cunning Philomela's needle tells

What force in love, what wit in sorrow, dwells;

What pains unhappy Souls abide in Hell,

They say, because on Earth they lived not well,
Ixion's wheel, proud Tantal's pining woe,
Prometheus' torment, and a many moe;

How Danaus' daughters ply their endless task;
What toil the toil of Sysiphus doth ask.

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PARIS AND ENONE.

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All these are old and known, I know; yet if thou wilt have any, Choose some of these; for, trust me else, Enone hath not many. PARIS. Nay, what thou wilt; but since my cunning not compares

with thine,

Begin some toy that I can play upon this pipe of mine.

CENONE. There is a pretty Sonnet then, we call it CUPID'S CURSE: They that do change old love for new, pray Gods they change for worse."

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COCK up, fair lids! the treasure of my heart,
Preserve those beams, this age's only light;
To her sweet sense, sweet Sleep! some ease impart,
Her sense too weak to bear her spirit's might.
And while, O Sleep! thou closest up her sight-
Her sight, where Love did forge his fairest dart-
Oh, harbour all her parts in easeful plight:
Let no strange dream make her fair body start.
But yet, O Dream! if thou wilt not depart,

In this rare subject, from thy common right,
But wilt thyself in such a seat delight,
Then take my shape, and play a lover's part:
Kiss her from me; and say unto her sprite,
Till her eyes shine, I live in darkest night!

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SOME, Sleep, O Sleep! the certain knot of peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
The indifferent judge between the high and low,
With shield of proof shield me from out the press
Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw;
Oh, make me in those civil wars to cease;
I will good tribute pay if thou do so.
Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light,
A rosy garland and a weary head;

And if these things, as being thine by right,
Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me,
Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see.

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