Imitate them, and thereof take no scorn,
For this new Art to them is natural.
And imitate the stars celestial;
For when pale Death your vital twist shall sever,
Your better parts must dance with them for ever."
61.
Thus Love persuades, and all the crowd of men
That stands around, doth make a murmuring,
As when the wind, loosed from his hollow den,
Among the trees a gentle bass doth sing;