Nature herself her shape admires; Since for her fair there 's fairer none, Heigh ho, fair Rosaline; Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were 40 CUPID and my Campaspe played He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on 's cheek (but none knows how); 1584. John Lyly. 14 THE BARGAIN From Arcadia, 3d ed. My true love hath my heart, and I have his, His heart in me keeps me and him in one, My true love hath my heart, and I have his. 10 His heart his wound received from my sight; heart: For as from me on him his hurt did light, So still methought in me his hurt did smart. Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss: My true love hath my heart, and I have 1598. his. Sir Philip Sidney. 16 1600. BEAUTY SAT BATHING BEAUTY sat bathing by a spring, Where fairest shades did hide her; But better memory said Fie; Into a slumber then I fell, Seemed to see, but could not tell, But ev'n as babes in dreams do smile, And sometimes fall a-weeping, So I awaked as wise that while Anthony Munday. 10 18 HER TRIUMPH In part from The Devil is an Ass SEE the Chariot at hand here of Love, Each that draws is a swan or a dove, And enamour'd do wish, so they might That they still were to run by her side, Do but look on her eyes, they do light Do but mark, her forehead 's smoother And from her arch'd brows such a grace As alone there triumphs to the life All the gain, all the good, of the elements' strife. 10 20 Have you seen but a bright lily grow Or have smelt o' the bud o' the brier, Or have tasted the bag of the bee? O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she! 1631. 30 Ben Jonson. 1616. TO CELIA DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I sent thee late a rosy wreath, As giving it a hope that there It could not wither'd be; But thou thereon didst only breathe, 8 Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee! 16 Ben Jonson. |