TO HIS SLEEPING MISTRESS.

From Women Pleased, 1647 (acted 1620?).

fair sweet face! O, eyes celestial bright,

Twin stars in heaven, that now adorn the night! Oh, fruitful lips, where cherries ever grow,

And damask cheeks, where all sweet beauties blow!
O, thou, from head to foot divinely fair!
Cupid's most cunning net's made of that hair;
And, as he weaves himself for curious eyes,
"O me, O me, I'm caught myself!" he cries:
Sweet rest about thee, sweet and golden sleep,
Soft peaceful thoughts, your hourly watches keep,
Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice,

To beauty sacred, and those angel eyes!

WEEP NO MORE.

From the Queen of Corinth, 1647 (acted 16187).

EEP no more, nor sigh, nor groan,

WEEP

Sorrow calls no time that's gone;
Violets plucked the sweetest rain
Makes not fresh nor grow again;
Trim thy locks, look cheerfully;
Fate's hid ends eyes cannot see;
Joys as winged dreams fly fast,
Why should sadness longer last?

Grief is but a wound to woe;

Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no mo.

DIRGE.

From the Maid's Tragedy, 1619 (acted 1610?).

Maidens, willow branches bear;
Say, I died true.

My love was false, but I was firm
From my hour of birth.
Upon my buried body lie
Lightly, gentle earth!

MARRIAGE HYMN.

From The Two Noble Kinsmen, 1634 (written 1611?).

ROSES, their sharp spines being gone,

Not royal in their smells alone,

But in their hue;

Maiden-pinks, of odour faint,
Daisies smell-less yet most quaint,
And sweet thyme true;

Primrose, first-born child of Ver
Merry spring-time's harbinger,
With her bells dim;

Oxlips in their cradles growing,
Marigolds on death-beds blowing,
Larks'-heels trim.

All, dear Nature's children sweet,
Lie 'fore bride and bridegroom's feet,
Blessing their sense!

Not an angel of the air,

Bird melodious or bird fair,

Be absent hence!

The crow,

the slanderous cuckoo, nor

The boding raven, nor chough hoar,

Nor chattering pie,

May on our bride-house perch or sing,

Or with them any discord bring,

But from it fly!

PHINEAS FLETCHER.

(1582-16487.)

AN HYMN.

From the Poems of Fletcher, 1633. Reprinted in Chalmers' Poets, vol. vi., and in the Fuller Worthies Library (edited by Dr. Grosart).

DROP, drop, slow tears,

And bathe those beauteous feet,

Which brought from Heaven

The news and Prince of Peace:

Cease not, wet eyes,

His mercies to entreat;

To cry for vengeance

Sin doth never cease:

In your deep floods

Drown all my faults and fears;

Nor let His eye

See sin, but through my tears.

JOHN FORD.

(1586?-1639?.)

CALANTHA'S DIRGE.

From the Broken Heart, 1633 (acted 1629?). Dyce has edited
Ford's Works.

GLORIES, pleasures, pomps, delights, and ease,

Can but please

Outward senses, when the mind
Is untroubled, or by peace refined.
Crowns may flourish and decay,
Beauties shine, but fade away.

Youth may revel, yet it must
Lie down in a bed of dust.
Earthly honours flow and waste,
Time alone doth change and last.
Sorrows mingled with contents prepare
Rest for care;

Love only reigns in death; though art
Can find no comfort for a Broken Heart.

PENTHEA'S DYING SONG.

H no more, no more, too late

Он

Sighs are spent; the burning tapers

Of a life as chaste as fate,

Pure as are unwritten papers,
Are burnt out; no heat, no light
Now remains; 't is ever night.

Love is dead; let lovers' eyes
Locked in endless dreams,
Th' extremes of all extremes
Ope no more, for now Love dies.

Now Love dies-implying

Love's martyr must be ever, ever dying.

ROBERT DAVENPORT.

(?-1651?.)

From King John and Matilda, 1655 (acted 1636?).
A REQUIEM.

MATILDA, now go take thy bed
In the dark dwellings of the dead;

And rise in the great waking day,
Sweet as incense, fresh as May.

Rest thou, chaste soul, fixed in thy proper sphere, Amongst Heaven's fair ones; all are fair ones there.

Chorus.

Rest there, chaste soul, whilst we here troubled say "Time gives us griefs, Death takes our joys away".

"A. W."

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE SOUL AND THE

BODY.

"A. W." is a frequent contributor to Davison's Poetical Rhapsody, 1602, where the following extract is found. Various conjectures as to his identity are discussed by Mr. Bullen in the Introduction to his edition of the Rhapsody.

Soul. AY me, poor soul, whom bound in sinful chains

This wretched body keeps against my will! Body. Ay me, poor body, whom for all my pains,

This froward soul causeless condemneth still!
Soul. Causeless? Whenas thou striv'st to sin each day!
Body. Causeless? Whenas I strive thee to obey!
Soul. Thou art the means, by which I fall to sin.

Body. Thou art the cause that sett'st this means a-work.
Soul. No part of thee that hath not faulty been.
Body. I show the poison that in thee doth lurk.
Soul. I shall be pure when so I part from thee.
Body. So were I now, but that thou stainest me.