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For we quite agreed in doubting whether matrimony paid;

Besides, we had our higher loves, ruled my heart,

fair science

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Yet through it all no whispered word, no telltale glance or sigh,

Told aught of warmer sentiment than friendly sympathy.

We talked of love as coolly as we talked of nebulæ,

And thought no more of being one than we did of being three.

"Well, good by, chum !" I took her hand, for the time had come to go.

And she said her young affections were all wound My going meant our parting, when to meet, we up in art.

So we laughed at those wise men who say that friendship cannot live

'Twixt man and woman, unless each has something more to give :

We would be friends, and friends as true as e'er were man and man;

I'd be a second David, and she Miss Jonathan.

We scorned all sentimental trash, - vows, kisses, tears, and sighs;

High friendship, such as ours, might well such

childish arts despise ;

did not know.

I had lingered long, and said farewell with a very heavy heart;

For although we were but friends, 't is hard for honest friends to part.

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We liked each other, that was all, quite all there And then she raised her eyes to mine, - great

was to say,

liquid eyes of blue,

So we just shook hands upon it, in a business Filled to the brim, and running o'er, like violet

sort of way.

We shared our secrets and our joys, together hoped and feared,

With common purpose sought the goal that young Ambition reared;

cups of dew;

One long, long glance, and then I did, what I never did before

Perhaps the tears meant friendship, but I'm sure the kiss meant more.

WILLIAM B. TERRETT,

A TEMPLE TO FRIENDSHIP.

Heaven gives us friends to bless the present

scene;

Night Thoughts.

YOUNG.

"A TEMPLE to Friendship," cried Laura, en- Resumes them, to prepare us for the next.
chanted,
"I'll build in this garden; the thought is di-T is sweet, as year by year we lose

vine.'

So the temple was built, and she now only

wanted

An image of Friendship, to place on the shrine.

How grows in Paradise our store.
Friends out of sight, in faith to muse

Burial of the Dead.

KEBLE.

I praise the Frenchman,* his remark was shrewd,

So she flew to the sculptor, who sat down before How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude !

her

An image, the fairest his art could invent;

But so cold, and so dull, that the youthful adorer

Saw plainly this was not the Friendship she

meant.

But grant me still a friend in my retreat,
Whom I may whisper, Solitude is sweet.

Retirement.

CHOICE FRIENDS.

True happiness

O, never," said she, "could I think of en- Consists not in the multitude of friends,
shrining

An image whose looks are so joyless and dim;
But yon little god upon roses reclining,

But in the worth and choice.

Cynthia's Revels.

COWPER.

BEN JONSON.

We'll make, if you please, sir, a Friendship of Burns with one love, with one resentment glows. A generous friendship no cold medium knows,

him."

Iliad, Book ix.

HOMER, Pope's Trans.

So the bargain was struck; with the little god Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere,
laden,
In action faithful, and in honor clear;
Who broke no promise, served no private end,

She joyfully flew to her home in the grove.
Farewell," said the sculptor, "you 're not the Who gained no title, and who lost no friend.
first maiden

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Who came but for Friendship, and took away Like the stained web that whitens in the sun, Love!"

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Like summer friends, Flies of estate and sunneshine.

The Answer.

GEORGE HERBERT.

What the declinèd is
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others
As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
Show not their mealy wings but to the summer.

Troilus and Cressida, Act iii, Sc. 3.

SHAKESPEare.

FRIENDS TO BE SHUNNed.

The man that hails you Tom or Jack,
And proves, by thumping on your back,
His sense of your great merit,

Is such a friend, that one had need
Be very much his friend indeed

To pardon, or to bear it.

On Friendship.

COWPER.

Give me the avowed, the erect, the manly foe,
Bold I can meet, — perhaps may turn his blow ;
But of all plagues, good Heaven, thy wrath can
send,

Save, save, oh! save me from the Candid Friend!

New Morality.

GEORGE CANNING.

FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love.

Much Ado about Nothing, Act ii. Sc. 1.

SHAKESPEARE.

If I speak to thee in Friendship's name,
Thou think'st I speak too coldly;
If I mention Love's devoted flame,
Thou say'st I speak too boldly.

How Shall I Woo?

Friendship, like love, is but a name,
Unless to one you stint the flame.

'Tis thus in friendship; who depend On many rarely find a friend.

The Hare and Many Friends.

QUARRELS OF FRIENDS.

I have shot mine arrow o'er the house,

And hurt my brother.

Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 2.

T. MOORE.

GAY.

SHAKESPEARE.

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For loan oft loses both itself and friend.
Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3.

SHAKESPEARE.

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Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best.

Duchess of Malfy.

JOHN WEBSTER.

COMPLIMENT AND ADMIRATION.

WHEN IN THE CHRONICLE OF WASTED | How could he see to do them? having made one,

TIME.

SONNET CVI.

WHEN in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme,
In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights;
Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have expressed
Even such a beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
And, for they looked but with divining eyes,
They had not skill enough your worth to sing ;
For we, which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to
praise.

SHAKESPEARE.

O MISTRESS MINE.

FROM "TWELFTH NIGHT," ACT II. SC. 3.

O MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear! your true-love 's coming
That can sing both high and low;

Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journeys end in lovers' meeting, -

Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 't is not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:

In delay there lies no plenty,
Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

SHAKESPEARE.

PORTIA'S PICTURE.

FROM "THE MERCHANT OF VENICE," ACT III. SC. 2.

FAIR Portia's counterfeit? What demi-god
Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? Here are severed lips,
Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar

Should sunder such sweet friends: Here in her hairs

The painter plays the spider; and hath woven A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, Faster than gnats in cobwebs : But her eyes,

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So joyously,

So maidenly,
So womanly
Her demeaning,
In everything
Far, far passing
That I can indite,
Or suffice to write,
Of merry Margaret,
As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon

Or hawk of the tower;
As patient and as still,
And as full of good-will,
As fair Isiphil,
Coliander,

Sweet Pomander,
Good Cassander;
Stedfast of thought,
Well made, well wrought;
Far may be sought
Ere you can find

So courteous, so kind,
As merry Margaret,
This midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon,

Or hawk of the tower.

JOHN SKELTON.

THE FORWARD VIOLET THUS DID

I CHIDE.

SONNET XCIX.

THE forward violet thus did I chide :

Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,

If not from my love's breath? the purple pride
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells,
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.
The lily I condemned for thy hand,
And buds of marjoram had stolen thy hair:
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
One blushing shame, another white despair;
A third, nor red nor white, had stolen of both,
And to this robbery had annexed thy breath;
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth
A vengeful canker eat him up to death.

More flowers I noted, yet I none could see,
But sweet or color it had stolen from thee.

SHAKESPEARE.

THERE IS A GARDEN IN HER FACE. FROM “AN HOURE'S RECREATION IN MUSICKE," 1606.

THERE is a garden in her face,

Where roses and white lilies blow; A heavenly paradise is that place,

Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow ; There cherries grow that none may buy, Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry.

Those cherries fairly do enclose

Of orient pearl a double row, Which when her lovely laughter shows, They look like rosebuds filled with snow; Yet them no peer nor prince may buy, Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry.

Her eyes like angels watch them still,

Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threatening with piercing frowns to kill
All that approach with eye or hand
These sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry.

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RICHARD ALLISON.

GIVE PLACE, YE LOVERS.

MY SWEET SWEETING.

FROM A MS, TEMP. HENRY VIII.

Ан, my sweet sweeting;
My little pretty sweeting,

My sweeting will I love wherever I go ;
She is so proper and pure,

Full, steadfast, stable, and demure,

There is none such, you may be sure,
As my sweet sweeting.

GIVE place, ye lovers, here before

That spent your boasts and brags in vain ; My lady's beauty passeth more

The best of yours, I dare well sayen,
Than doth the sun the candle-light,
Or brightest day the darkest night.

And thereto hath a troth as just

As had Penelope the fair;
For what she saith, ye may it trust,
As it by writing sealed were:

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