But the silken twist unty'd,
So she fell; and bruis'd, she dy'd.
Love, in pitty of the deed,
And her loving lucklesse speed,
Turn'd her to this plant, we call
Now The Flower of the Wall.
WHY FLOWERS CHANGE COLOUR.
THESE fresh beauties, we can prove,
Once were virgins, sick of love.
Turn'd to flowers, still in some
Colours goe and colours come.
TO HIS MISTRESSE, OBJECTING TO HIM NEITHER
You say I love not, 'cause I doe not play
Still with your curles, and kisse the time away.
You blame me, too, because I cann't devise
Some sport, to please those babies in your eyes;
By Love's religion, I must here confesse it,
The most I love, when I the least expresse it.
Small griefs find tongues; full casques are ever found
To give, if any, yet but little sound.
Deep waters noyse-lesse are; and this we know,
That chiding streams betray small depth below.
So when Love speechlesse is, she doth expresse
A depth in love, and that depth bottomlesse.
Now since my love is tongue-lesse, know me such, Who speak but little, 'cause I love so much.
UPON THE LOSSE OF HIS MISTRESSES.
I HAVE lost, and lately, these
Many dainty mistresses:
Stately Julia, prime of all;
Sapho next, a principall:
Smooth Anthea, for a skin
White, and heaven-like chrystalline :
Sweet Electra, and the choice
Myrha, for the lute and voice.
Next, Corinna, for her wit,
And the graceful use of it;
With Perilla: All are gone,
Onely Herrick's left alone,
For to number sorrow by
Their departures hence, and die.
METHOUGHT, last night, Love in an anger came,
And brought a rod, so whipt me with the same;
Mirtle the twigs were, meerly to imply,
Love strikes, but 'tis with gentle crueltie.
Patient I was: Love pitifull grew then,
And stroak'd the stripes, and I was whole agen.
Thus like a bee, love gentle stil doth bring
Hony to salve, where he before did sting.
I DREAM'D this mortal part of mine
Was metamorphoz'd to a vine;
Which crawling one and every way,
Enthrall'd my dainty Lucia.
Methought her long small legs and thighs,
I with my tendrils did surprize;
Her belly, buttocks, and her waste,
By my soft nerv❜lits were embrac'd;
About her head I writhing hung,
And with rich clusters, (hid among
The leaves) her temples I behung;
So that my Lucia seem'd to me,
Young Bacchus ravisht by his tree.
My curles about her neck did craule,
And armes and hands they did enthrall ;
So that she could not freely stir,
All parts there made one prisoner.
But when I crept, with leaves to hide
Those parts which maids keep unespy'd,
Such fleeting pleasures there I took,
That with the fancie I awook;
And found, ah me! this flesh of mine
More like a stock then like a vine.
I'm free from thee; and thou no more shalt heare
My puling pipe to beat against thine eare
Farewell my shackles, though of pearle they be,
Such precious thraldome ne'r shall fetter me.
He loves his bonds, who, when the first are broke,
Submits his neck unto a second yoke.
YOUNG I was, but now am old,
But I am not yet grown cold;
I can play, and I can twine
'Bout a virgin like a vine:
In her lap, too, I can lye
Melting, and in fancie die ;
And return to life, if she
Claps my cheek, or kisseth me;
Thus and thus it now appears
That our love out-lasts our yeeres.
LOVE'S PLAY AT PUSH-PIN.
LOVE and my selfe, beleeve me, on a day,
At childish push-pin, for our sport, did play;
I put, he pusht, and heedless of my skin,
Love prickt my finger with a golden pin ;
Since which, it festers so, that I can prove
'Twas but a trick to poyson me with love :
Little the wound was; greater was the smart ; The finger bled, but burnt was all my heart.
ONE ask'd me where the roses grew?
I bade him not goe seek;
But forthwith bade my Julia shew
A bud in either cheek.
OLD wives have often told how they
Saw Cupid bitten by a flea;
And thereupon, in tears half drown'd,
He cry'd aloud, Help, help the wound;
He wept, he sobb'd, he call'd to some
To bring him lint and balsamum,
To make a tent, and put it in,
Where the steletto pierc'd the skin;
Which being done, the fretfull paine
Asswag'd, and he was well again.
THE PARCE; OR, THREE DAINTY DESTINIES. THE ARMILET.
THREE lovely sisters working were,
As they were closely set,
Of soft and dainty maiden-haire,
A curious Armelet.
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