From Sportive Wit, 1656.
CHLORIS,[65] forbear a while,
Do not o'erjoy me,
Urge not another smile
Lest it destroy me;
That beauty passeth most
And is best taking,
Which is soon won, soon lost,
Kind, yet forsaking:
I love a coming Lady, 'faith I do,
But now and then I'd have her scornful too.
O'ercloud those eyes of thine,
Bopeep thy features,
Warm with an April shine,
Scorch not thy creatures;
Still to display thy ware,
Still to be fooling,
Argues how rude you are
In Cupid's schooling:
Disdain begets a smile, scorn draws us nigh,
'Tis 'cause I would, and cannot, makes me try.
Chloris, I'd have thee wise:
When gallants view thee,
Courting do thou despise,
Fly those pursue thee:
Fast moves an appetite
Makes hunger greater;
Who's stinted of delight
Falls to't the better:
Be coy and kind betimes, be smooth and rough,
And buckle now and then, and that's enough.
From Songs and Poems of Love and Drollery. By T. W., 1654.
FAIR Chloris in a gentle slumber lay,
Sleep taking rest
In her calm breast,
Whilst her veil'd eyes seem'd to eclipse the day
The wanton sun would court her fain,
Peep'd here and there, but all in vain.
The leafy boughs a guard had made,
Planting between their envious shade;
Whereat he chid his idle beams, that he
Should want an eye whereby himself might see.
From Campion and Rosseter's Book of Airs, 1601.
MY love hath vowed he will forsake me,
And I am already sped;
Far other promise he did make me
When he had my maidenhead.
If such danger be in playing
And sport must to earnest turn,
I will go no more a-maying.