We praise because we know we please;

Poor women are too credulous

To think that we admiring stand

Or foot, or face, or foolish hand.-Anon.

XI.

TO PHILLIS

THE FAIR SHEPHERDESS.

My Phillis hath the morning Sun,
At first to look upon her:
And Phillis hath morn-waking birds,

Her rising still to honour.

My Phillis hath prime feathered flowers,
That smile when she treads on them:

And Phillis hath a gallant flock

That leaps since she doth own them. But Phillis hath too hard a heart,

Alas, that she should have it!

It yields no mercy to desert

Nor grace to those that crave it. Sweet Sun, when thou look'st on, Pray her regard my moan! Sweet birds, when you sing to her To yield some pity woo her! Sweet flowers that she treads on,

Tell her, her beauty dreads one.

And if in life her love she nill agree me,

Pray her before I die, she will come see me.

Sir Edward Dyer.

XII.

THE POTENCY OF A WOMAN.

THOSE eyes that set my fancy on a fire,

Those crisped hairs that hold my heart in chains,

Those dainty hands which conquered my desire, That wit which of my thoughts doth hold the

reins:

Then, Love, be judge, what heart may therewith stand

Such eyes, such head, such wit, and such a hand? Those eyes for clearness doth the stars surpass,

Those hairs obscure the brightness of the sun, Those hands more white than ever ivory was, That wit even to the skies hath glory won. O eyes that pierce our hearts without remorse ! O hairs of right that wear a royal crown!

O hands that conquer more than Cæsar's force! O wit that turns huge kingdoms upside down! Anon.

XIII.

THE CRUELTY OF TIME.

LIKE as the waves make towards the pebbled shore

So do our minutes hasten to their end;

Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend.

Nativity, once in the main of light

Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,

And Time that gave, doth now his gift confound.

Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow;
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,

And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow :—

And yet, to times in hope, my verse shall stand Praising Thy worth, despite his cruel hand. Shakespeare.

XIV.

VIVAMUS, MEA LESBIA, ATQUE
AMEMUS.

My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love,

And though the sager sort our deeds reprove

Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps

do dive

Into their west, and straight again revive;

But, soon as once set is our little light,
Then must we sleep one ever-during night.

If all would lead their lives in love like me,
Then bloody swords and armour should not be ;
No drum nor trumpet peaceful sleeps should

move,

Unless alarm came from the Camp of Love:
But fools do live and waste their little light,
And seek with pain their ever-during night.

When timely death my life and fortunes ends,
Let not my hearse be vext with mourning friends
But let all lovers, rich in triumph, come
And with sweet pastimes grace my happy tomb :
And, Lesbia, close up thou my little light
And crown with love my ever-during night.

14

Anon.

;

XV.

MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS.

My mind to me a kingdom is,

Such present joys therein I find,

That it excels all other bliss

That earth affords or grows by kind. Though much I want which most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave.

No princely pomp, no wealthy store,
No force to win the victory,

No wily wit to salve a sore,

No shape to feed a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall:
For why? my mind doth serve for all.

I see how plenty surfeits oft,

And hasty climbers soon do fall;

I see that those which are aloft

Mishap doth threaten most of all; They get with toil, they keep with fear: Such cares my mind could never bear.

Content I live, this is my stay,

I seek no more than may suffice;

I press to bear no haughty sway;

Look what I lack my mind supplies :

Lo, thus I triumph like a king,
Content with that my mind doth bring.

Some have too much, yet still do crave;
I little have, and seek no more.
They are but poor, though much they have,
And I am rich with little store;

They poor, I rich; they beg, I give ;
They lack, I leave; they pine, I live.

I laugh not at another's loss;

I grudge not at another's gain;
No worldly waves my mind can toss ;
My state at one doth still remain :

I fear no foe, I fawn no friend;
I loathe not life, nor dread my end.

Some weigh their pleasure by their lust,
Their wisdom by their rage of will;
Their treasure is their only trust,

A cloked craft their store of skill:
But all the pleasure that I find

Is to maintain a quiet mind.

My wealth is health and perfect ease:

My conscience clear my choice defence;

I neither seek by bribes to please,

Nor by deceit to breed offence:

Thus do I live, thus will I die;
Would all did so as well as I.

Sir Edward Dyer.

XVI.

A WARNING.

ONCE did I love and yet I live,

Though love and truth be now forgotten;

Then did I joy, now do I grieve

That holy vows must now be broken.

Hers be the blame that caused it so,

Mine be the grief though it be mickle;

She shall have shame, I cause to know
What 'tis to love a dame so fickle.

Love her that list, I am content

For that chameleon-like she changeth,