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COMPLIMENT AND ADMIRATION.
TO MISTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY.
'Twixt the souls of friend and friend : But upon
the fairest boughs, Or at every sentence' end, Will I Rosalinda write ;
Teaching all that read to know The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show. Therefore Heaven nature charged
That one body should be filled With all graces wide enlarged :
Nature presently distilled Helen's cheek, but not her heart,
Cleopatra's majesty, Atalanta's better part,
Sad Lucretia's modesty. Thus Rosalind of many parts
By heavenly synod was devised ; Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,
To have the touches dearest prized. Heaven would that she these fts should have,
And I to live and die her slave.
PHILLIS THE FAIR.
On a hill there grows a flower,
Fair befall the dainty sweet !
Where the heavenly muses meet.
In that bower there is a chair,
Fringéd all about with gold,
That ever eye did yet behold.
It is Phillis, fair and bright,
She that is the shepherd's joy,
And did blind her little boy.
Who would not that face admire ?
Who would not this saint adore ?
Though he thought to see no more.
Thou that art the shepherd's queen,
Look upon thy love-sick swain ;
Dead men brought to life again.
A VIOLET IN HER HAIR.
A violet in her lovely hair,
But 0, her eyes
That's 'neath the skies.
FROM "THE MERCHANT OF VENICE." 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 har Should sunder such sweet friends : Here in her
hairs The painter plays the spider; and hath woren A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, Faster than gnats in cobwebs : But her eyes, How could he see to do them? having made one, Methinks it should have power to steal both his, And leave itself unfurnished.
A lute beneath her graceful hand Breathes music forth at her command ;
But still her tongue Far richer music calls to birth Than all the minstrel power on earth
Can give to song.
WHEN AS IN SILKS MY JULIA GOES.
WHENAs in silks
goes Then, then (methinks) how sweetly flows That liquefaction of her clothes.
A third, nor red nor white, had stol’n of both,
GIVE PLACE, YE LOVERS. 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,
As had Penelope the fair ;
As it by writing sealéd were :
The whole effect of Nature's plaint,
The like to whom she could not paint : With wringing hands, how she did cry, And what she said, I know it aye. I know she swore with raging mind,
Her kingdom only set apart, There was no loss by law of kind
That could have gone so near her heart;
To be the chiefest work she wrought,
your behalf might well be sought,
I do not love thee for those soft
I do not love thee, O my fairest,