Strephon.
DEAR, I must do.
Phillis. O I dare not.
Strephon. 'Twill not hurt you.
Phillis. No, I care not.
Strephon. Then I prithee, sweet, tell me the reason.
Phillis. Will you marry?
Strephon. Yes, to-morrow.
Phillis. Till then tarry.
Strephon. I would borrow.
Phillis. Fruit is best when gathered in season.
From The Windsor Drollery, 1672.
(After Anacreon.)[19]
UNDERNEATH this myrtle shade,
On flowery beds supinely laid,
With odorous oils my head o'erflowing
And around it roses growing,
What should I do but drink away
The heat and troubles of the day?
In this more than kingly state,
Love himself shall on me wait:
Fill to me, Love! nay, fill it up,
And mingled cast into the cup
Wit and mirth, and noble fires,
Vigorous health, and gay desires.
The wheel of life no less will stay
In a smooth than rugged way;
Since it equally doth flee,
Let the motion pleasant be.
Why do we precious ointments shower,
Nobler wines why do we pour,
Beauteous flowers why do we spread
Upon the monuments of the dead?
Nothing they but dust can show
Or bones that hasten to be so.
Crown me with roses while I live,
Now your wines and ointments give:
After death I nothing crave,
Let me alive my pleasures have:
All are stoics in the grave.
From John Cotgrave's Wit's Interpreter, 1655.
On his Black Mistress.
THINE'S fair, facetious,[20] all that can
Delight the airy part of man:
My love is black, thou sayst, her eye
Hath something of severity.
Therefore I love: her spring will last
When all thy flowers are dead and blast
She's wisely framed, with art is made;
Your best night-pieces have most shade.
And, 'cause reserved, think'st thou not mine
Yields not as great a warmth as thine?
Her heat is inward, and she may
More pleasant be another way:
They're slow to yield, but, when they do,
You have both soul and body too.
The quicker eye and nimble tongue
Leaves footsteps for suspicion;
But in her looks and language lies
A very charm for Argus' eyes.
Now pray then tell me, and withal
Pray be not too-too partial,
Doth not one feature[21] now in mine
Appear more lovely than all thine?
No airy objects will me[22] move,
It is the sober black I love:
I love't so well that I protest
I love the blackest parts the best.