Cho. YOU UNDERSTAND NOT THIS (FAIR CHOICE);
THIS LANGUAGE WANTS BOTH TONGUE AND VOICE.
COURANTE<68.1> MONSIEUR.
That frown, Aminta, now hath drown'd
Thy bright front's pow'r, and crown'd
Me that was bound.
No, no, deceived cruel, no!
Love's fiery darts,
Till tipt with kisses, never kindle hearts.
Adieu, weak beauteous tyrant, see!
Thy angry flames meant me,<68.2>
Retort on thee:
For know, it is decreed, proud fair,
I ne'r must dye
By any scorching, but a melting, eye.
<68.1> COURANTE was a favourite dance and dance-tune. It is still known under the same name.
<68.2> i.e. THAT meant me, which was intended for me.
A LOOSE SARABAND.
I.
Nay, prethee, dear, draw nigher,
Yet closer, nigher yet;
Here is a double fire,
A dry one and a wet.
True lasting heavenly fuel
Puts out the vestal jewel,
When once we twining marry
Mad love with wild canary.
II.
Off with that crowned Venice,<69.1>
'Till all the house doth flame,
Wee'l quench it straight in Rhenish,
Or what we must not name.
Milk lightning still asswageth;
So when our fury rageth,
As th' only means to cross it,
Wee'l drown it in love's posset.
III.
Love never was well-willer
Unto my nag or mee,
Ne'r watter'd us ith' cellar,
But the cheap buttery.
At th' head of his own barrells,
Where broach'd are all his quarrels,
Should a true noble master
Still make his guest his taster.