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To consult, if fucus this
Be as good as was the last:
IX. HER MAN DESCRIBED BY HER OWN
Of your trouble, Ben, to ease me,
Noble, or of greater blood;
Young I'd have him too, and fair,
6 That is, to try.
7 Border, or fringe; also a twist of gold or silver. In other senses, it means an eddy or circle made by the motion of a fluid. Here the signification apparently is a twist or twists of wire introduced into the hair to keep it in form. — B. 8 Paint for the complexion; in general use among ladies.
"This same fucus
Was well laid on.”—Sejanus, II. 1.
"With all his waters, powders, fucuses,
To make thy lovely corps sophisticate."
For Love's fingers and his wings,
For he must look wanton-wise.
He would have a hand as soft
In Love's school, and yet no sinners. 'Twere too long to speak of all:
What we harmony do call,
In a body, should be there;
Well he should his clothes, too, wear,
Yet no tailor help to make him;
Dressed, you still for man should take him,
And not think he'd eat a stake,
Or were set up in a brake.
The exact sense in which the word "brake" is here used
Valiant he should be as fire,
Showing danger more than ire;
As to do no thing too much;
Nor do wrongs, nor wrongs receive;
Such a man, with every part,
ANOTHER LADY'S EXCEPTION, PRESENT AT
For his mind I do not care,
That's a toy that I could spare :
Let his title be but great,
His clothes rich, and band sit neat,
cannot be easily determined, although the general meaning of the passage is sufficiently obvious. Independently of its popular acceptation, as a thicket of bushes, it was employed in several other senses such as an engine of torture, an instrument for dressing flax, a snaffle for horses, and a wooden frame to restrain the legs of vicious horses while they were being shod. The context will bear either of the last two meanings.
Himself young, and face be good,
All I wish is understood.
What you please, you parts may call,
THE MUSICAL STRIFE;
IN A PASTORAL DIALOGUE.
She. Come, with our voices, let us war,
Till each of us be made a star,
He. At such a call, what beast or fowl
What tree or stone doth want a soul?
She. Mix then your notes, that we may prove
To make the mountain quarries move,
He. What need of me? do you but sing,
No tunes are sweet, nor words have sting,
She. They say the angels mark each deed.
And out of inward pleasure feed
On what they viewing know.
He. O sing not you then, lest the best
To fall again; at such a feast,
She. Nay, rather both our souls be strained
O do not wanton with those eyes,
Nor cast them down, but let them rise,
O be not angry with those fires,
For then their threats will kill me;
O do not steep them in thy tears,
IN THE PERSON OF WOMANKIND.
A SONG APOLOGETIC.
Men, if you love us, play no more
The fools or tyrants with your friends,
To make us still sing o'er and o'er