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Our own false praises, for your
ends : We have both wits and fancies too, And, if we must, let's sing of you.
Nor do we doubt but that we can,
If we would search with care and pain,
We shall, at last, of parcels make
And as a cunning painter takes,
In any curious piece you see, More pleasure while the thing he makes,
Than when 'tis made — 'why so will we. And having pleased our art, we'll try To make a new, and hang that by.
That talk abroad of woman's change;
virtue is to range:
Such as in valor would excel,
Do change, though man, and often fight; Which we in love must do as well,
If ever we will love aright:
The frequent varying of the deed,
Nor is 't inconstancy to change
For what is better, or to make,
The good from bad is not descried,
And this profession of a store
In love, doth not alone help forth
For were the worthiest woman cursed
A NYMPH'S PASSION.
I love, and he loves me again,
Yet dare I not tell who; For if the nymphs should know my swain, I fear they 'd love him too;
Yet if it be not known,
The pleasure is as good as none, For that's a narrow joy is but our own.
I'll tell, that, if they be not glad,
They may yet envy me;
And of them pitied be,
It were a plague 'bove scorn:
And yet it cannot be forborn, Unless my heart would, as my thought, be
He is, if they can find him, fair,
And fresh and fragrant too, As summer's sky, or purgèd air, And looks as lilies do
That are this morning blown:
Yet, yet I doubt be is not known, And fear much more, that more of him be
But he hath eyes so round and bright,
As make away my doubt,
all his torches light, Though hate had put them out:
But then, t' increase my fears,
What nymph soe'er his voice but hears Will be my rival, though she have but ears.
I'll tell no more, and yet I love,
And he loves me; yet no
But so exempt from blame,
As it would be to each a fame,
Here running in the glass, 10 A copy of the verses sent by Jonson to Drummond bore the following inscription :
“ To the honoring respect,
Mr. William Drummond,
I Benjamin Jonson,
Request, written this imperfect song. There is another copy of the verses, printed in 1640, called On a Gentle-woman working by an Hour-glass. The three versions differ slightly ; but the variations are unimportant. Whalley has pointed out the source from whence the suggestion of the madrigal was derived, in the following Latin lines of the Italian poet Jerome Amaltheus :
HOROLOGIUM PULVEREUY, TumiLUS ALCIPPI.
Dum vagus angustum sæpe recurrit iter,
Arsit, et est cæco factus ab igne cinis.
Sunt cineres, urnam condidit acer amor :
Nec jam tutus eat, nec requietus amet. There is a similar conceit in Herrick's lines on an hour-glass filled with water composed of the tears of lovers, which tell, as they drop,
“That lovers' tears in lifetime shed,
Do restless run when they are dead.” — B.
By atoms moved ;
believe that this The body was
Of one that loved ?
To have't expressed,
MY PICTURE LEFT IN SCOTLAND.
I now think Love is rather deaf than blind,
And cast my love behind;
And every close did meet,
As hath the youngest he
Oh! but my conscious fears,
That fly my thoughts between,
Told seven and forty years,
My mountain belly, and my rocky face, And all these, through her eyes, have stopped