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Above an hour since: yet you not dress'd;

Nay! not so much as out of bed? When all the birds have matins said ro And sung their thankful hyinns, 't is sin, Nay, profanation to keep in, Whereas a thousand virgins on this day Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch in May.

Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green,

And sweet as Flora. Take no care For jewels for your gown or hair: Fear not; the leaves will strew Gems in abundance upon you: Besides, the childhood of the day has kept, Against you come, some orient pearls unwept;

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Come, let us go while we are in our prime;
And take the harmless folly of the time.
We shall grow old apace, and die
Before we know our liberty.
Our life is short, and our days run
As fast away as does the sun;
And, as a vapour or a drop of rain,
Once lost, can ne'er be found again,
So when or you or I are made
A fable, song, or fleeting shade,
All love, all liking, all delight
Lies drowned with us in endless night.
Then while time serves, and we are but de-
caying,
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Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.

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And thus surprised, as filchers use,
He thus began himself t' excuse:
Sweet lady-flower, I never brought
Hither the least one thieving thought;
But, taking those rare lips of yours
For some fresh, fragrant, luscious flowers,
I thought I might there take a taste,
Where so much syrup ran at waste.
Besides, know this: I never sting
The flower that gives me nourishing; 20
But with a kiss, or thanks, do pay
For honey that I bear away.
This said, he laid his little scrip
Of honey 'fore her ladyship:

And told her, as some tears did fall,
That that he took, and that was all.
At which she smiled, and bade him go
And take his bag; but thus much know:
When next he came a-pilfering so,
He should from her full lips derive
Honey enough to fill his hive.

TO CHERRY-BLOSSOMS

YE may simper, blush and smile,
And perfume the air awhile;
But, sweet things, ye must be gone,
Fruit, ye know, is coming on;
Then, ah! then, where is your grace,
Whenas cherries come in place?

TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME

GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may, Old time is still a-flying:

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And this same flower that smiles to-day To-morrow will be dying.

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Like unthrifts, having spent
Your stock and needy grown,
Y'are left here to lament
Your poor estates, alone.

OBERON'S FEAST

Shapcot! to thee the fairy state
I, with discretion, dedicate.
Because thou prizest things that are
Curious and unfamiliar.

Take first the feast; these dishes gone,
We'll see the Fairy Court anon.

A LITTLE mushroom table spread,
After short prayers, they set on bread;
A moon-parch'd grain of purest wheat,
With some small glittering grit to eat
His choice bits with; then in a trice
They make a feast less great than nice.
But all this while his eye is serv'd,
We must not think his ear was sterv'd;
But that there was in place to stir
His spleen, the chirring grasshopper,
The merry cricket, puling fly,
The piping gnat for minstrelsy.
And now we must imagine, first,

The elves present, to quench his thirst,
A pure seed-pearl of infant dew
Brought and besweetened in a blue
And pregnant violet; which done,
His kitling eyes begin to run

Quite through the table, where he spies
The horns of papery butterflies:
Of which he eats, and tastes a little
Of that we call the cuckoo's spittle.
A little fuzz-ball pudding stands
By, yet not blessed by his hands;
That was too coarse: but then forthwith
He ventures boldly on the pith
Of sugar'd rush, and eats the sagg
And well-bestrutted bee's sweet bag:
Gladding his palate with some store

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WHY I tie about thy wrist,

Julia, this my silken twist;
For what other reason is't,
But to show thee how, in part,
Thou my pretty captive art?
But thy bondslave is my heart;
"Tis but silk that bindeth thee,
Knap the thread and thou art free:
But 'tis otherwise with me;

I am bound, and fast bound, so
That from thee I cannot go;
If I could, I would not so.

TO DAISIES, NOT TO SHUT SO SOON

SHUT not so soon ; the dull-ey'd night Has not as yet begun

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TO PHYLLIS, TO LOVE AND LIVE WITH HIM

LIVE, live with me, and thou shalt see
The pleasures I'll prepare for thee;
What sweets the country can afford
Shall bless thy bed and bless thy board.
The soft, sweet moss shall be thy bed
With crawling woodbine over-spread ;
By which the silver-shedding streams
Shall gently melt thee into dreams.
Thy clothing, next, shall be a gown
Made of the fleece's purest down.
The tongues of kids shall be thy meat,
Their milk thy drink; and thou shalt

eat

The paste of filberts for thy bread,
With cream of cowslips buttered;
Thy feasting-tables shall be hills
With daisies spread and daffodils,
Where thou shalt sit, and red-breast by,
For meat, shall give thee melody.
I'll give thee chains and carcanets
Of primroses and violets.

A bag and bottle thou shalt have,
That richly wrought, and this as brave;
So that as either shall express

The wearer's no mean shepherdess.
At shearing-times, and yearly wakes,
When Themilis his pastime makes,
There thou shalt be; and be the wit,
Nay, more, the feast, and grace of it.
On holidays, when virgins meet
To dance the heyes with nimble feet,
Thou shalt come forth, and then ap

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pear The queen of roses for that year; And having danced, 'bove all the best, Carry the garland from the rest. In wicker baskets maids shall bring To thee, my dearest shepherling, The blushing apple, bashful pear, And shame-fac'd plum, all simp'ring there. Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find The name of Phyllis in the rind Of every straight and smooth-skin tree; Where kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee. To thee a sheep-hook I will send, Be-prank'd with ribands to this end; This, this alluring hook might be Less for to catch a sheep than me. Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine, Not made of ale, but spiced wine, To make thy maids and self free mirth, All sitting near the glitt'ring hearth.

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Thou shalt have ribands, roses, rings,
Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes, and strings
Of winning colours, that shall move
Others to lust, but me to love.

These, nay, and more, thine own shall be
If thou wilt love, and live with me.

ART ABOVE NATURE: TO JULIA

WHEN I behold a forest spread
With silken trees upon thy head,
And when I see that other dress
Of flowers set in comeliness;
When I behold another grace
In the ascent of curious lace,
Which like a pinnacle doth show
The top, and the top-gallant too.
Then, when I see thy tresses bound
Into an oval, square, or round,
And knit in kuots far more than I
Can tell by tongue, or true-love tie;
Next, when those lawny films I see
Play with a wild civility,
And all those airy silks to flow,
Alluring me, and tempting so:
I must confess mine eye and heart
Dotes less on Nature than on Art.

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UPON JULIA'S CLOTHES

WHENAS in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
The liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free;
O how that glittering taketh me!

TO HIS BOOK

Go thou forth, my book, though late:
Yet be timely fortunate.

It may chance good luck may send
Thee a kinsman, or a friend,
That may harbour thee, when I
With my fates neglected lie.

If thou know'st not where to dwell,

See, the fire's by: farewell.

NOBLE NUMBERS

[Publ. with Hesperides, 1648]

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