I, smiling, ask'd them what they did,
Faire destinies all three ?

Who told me they had drawn a thred
Of life, and 'twas for me.

They shew'd me then how fine 'twas spun,

And I reply'd thereto;

I care not now how soon 'tis done,
Or cut, if cut by you.

SORROWES SUCCEED.

WHEN one is past, another care we have,
Thus woe succeeds a woe; as wave a wave.

CHERRY-PIT.

JULIA and I did lately sit,

Playing for sport, at cherry-pit:

She threw ; I cast; and having thrown,

I got the pit, and she the stone.

TO ROBIN RED-BREST.

Laid out for dead, let thy last kindnesse be
With leaves and mosse-work for to cover me;
And while the wood-nimphs my cold corps inter,

Sing thou my dirge, sweet-warbling chorister.
For epitaph, in foliage, next write this:
Here, here the tomb of Robin Herrick is!

DISCONTENTS IN DEVON.

MORE discontents I never had,

Since I was born, then here;
Where I have been, and still am sad,
In this dull Devon-shire.

Yet, justly too, I must confesse,
I ne'r invented such
Ennobled numbers for the presse,
Then where I loath'd so much.

TO HIS PATERNALL COUNTREY.

O EARTH! earth! earth! heare thou my voice, and be
Loving and gentle for to cover me;

Banish'd from thee I live, ne'r to return,
Unlesse thou giv'st my small remains an urne.

CHERRIE-RIPE.

CHERRIE-RIPE, ripe, ripe, I cry,

Full and faire ones; come, and buy:

If so be you ask me where

They doe grow? I answer, there,

Where my Julia's lips doe smile,
There's the land, or cherry-ile;
Whose plantations fully show
All the

yeere where cherries grow.

D

TO HIS MISTRESSES.

PUT on your silks; and, piece by piece,
Give them the scent of amber-greece;
And for your breaths, too, let them smell
Ambrosia-like, or nectarell;

While other gums their sweets perspire,
By your owne jewels set on fire.

TO ANTHEA.

Now is the time when all the lights wax dim;
And thou, Anthea, must withdraw from him
Who was thy servant: Dearest, bury me
Under that holy-oke, or gospel-tree;

Where, though thou see'st not, thou may'st think upon

Me, when thou yeerly go'st procession;

Or, for mine honour, lay me in that tombe

In which thy sacred reliques shall have roome ;

For my embalming, sweetest, there will be

No spices wanting when I'm laid by thee.

THE VISION TO ELECTRA.

I DREAM'D We both were in a bed

Of roses, almost smothered;

The warmth and swetnes had me there
Made lovingly familiar;

But that I heard thy sweeth breath say,
Faults done by night will blush by day.

I kist thee, panting, and I call

Night to the record, that was all.

But, ah! if empty dreames so please,
Love, give me more such nights as these

DREAMES.

HERE we are all by day; by night w'are hurl'd By dreames, each one into a sev'rall world.

AMBITION.

IN man, Ambition is the common'st thing;
Each one by nature loves to be a king.

HIS REQUEST TO JULIA.

JULIA, if I chance to die
Ere I print my poetry,
I most humbly thee desire
To commit it to the fire:

Better 'twere my book were dead,
Then to live not perfected.

MONEY GETS THE MASTERIE.

FIGHT thou with shafts of silver, and o'ercome When no force else can get the masterdome.

THE SCAR-FIRE.

WATER, water, I desire,

Here's a house of flesh on fire;

Ope' the fountains and the springs,

And come all to buckittings:

What ye cannot quench, pull downe,

Spoile a house to save a towne.

Better 'tis that one shu'd fall,
Then by one to hazard all.

UPON SILVIA, A MISTRESSE.

WHEN Some shall say, faire once my Silvia was;
Thou wilt complaine, false now's thy looking-glasse;
Which renders that quite tarnisht which was green,
And priceless now, what peerless once had been.
Upon thy forme more wrinkles yet will fall,
And comming downe, shall make no noise at all.

CHEERFULNESSE IN CHARITIE; OR, THE SWEET SACRIFICE.

'Tis not a thousand bullocks thies,

Can please those heavenly deities;

If the vower don't express

In his offering, cheerfulness.