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From Arcadia, 3d ed.

My true love hath my heart, and I have his,

By just exchange one for another given: I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, There never was a better bargain driven.

My true love hath my heart, and I have his. 5

His heart in me keeps me and him in one,

My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides: He loves my heart, for once it was his own; I cherish his because in me it bides :

My true love hath my heart, and I have his. 10

His heart his wound received from my sight;
My heart was wounded with his wounded

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

his. 1598.

Sir Philip Sidney.



BEAUTY sat bathing by a spring,

Where fairest shades did hide her;
The winds blew calm, the birds did sing,

The cool streams ran beside her.
My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye

To see what was forbidden:
But better memory said Fie;
So vain desire was chidden-

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Into a slumber then I fell,

And fond imagination
Seemed to see, but could not tell,

Her feature or her fashion:
But ev'n as babes in dreams do smile,

And sometimes fall a-weeping,
So I awaked as wise that while
As when I fell a-sleeping.

Anthony Munday.




In part from The Devil is an Ass

See the Chariot at hand here of Love,

Wherein my Lady rideth!
Each that draws is a swan or a dove,

And well the car Love guideth.
As she goes, all hearts do duty

Unto her beauty ;
And enamour'd do wish, so they might

But enjoy such a sight,
That they still were to run by her side,
Through swords, through seas, whither she

would ride.


Do but look on her eyes, they do light

All that Love's world compriseth !
Do but look on her hair, it is bright

As Love's star when it riseth!
Do but mark, her forehead 's smoother

Than words that soothe her;
And from her arch'd brow's such a grace

Sheds itself through the face,
As alone there triumphs to the life
All the gain, all the good, of the elements'



Have you seen but a bright lily grow

Before rude hands have touch'd it?
Have you mark'd but the fall o' the snow

Before the soil hath smutch'd it?
Have you felt the wool of beaver,

Or swan's down ever ?
Or have smelt o' the bud o' the brier,

Or the nard in the fire ?
Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she !

Ben Jonson.



DRINK to ine only with thine eyes,

And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,

And I 'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise

Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.


I sent thee late a rosy wreath,

Not so much honouring thee,
As giving it a hope that there

It could not wither'd be ;
But thou thereon didst only breathe,

And sent'st it back to me;
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself but thee!

Ben Jonson.





From Epicæne

STILL to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powder'd, still perfumed :
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.

Give me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free:
Such sweet neglect more taketh me,
Than all th' adulteries of art;

They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. 12 1609?

Ben Jonson.


From Two Gentlemen of Verona

Who is Silvia ? What is she,

That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she ;

The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be.


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