To Celia

591

Foes sometimes befriend us more, our blacker deeds objecting,

Than the obsequious bosom-guest with false respect affecting:

Friendship is the Glass of Truth, our hidden stains detecting.

When I use of eyes enjoy, and inward light of reason,
Thy observer will I be and censor, but in season;
Hidden mischief to conceal in State and Love is treason.
Thomas Campion [? -1619]

KIND ARE HER ANSWERS "

KIND are her answers,

But her performance keeps no day;

Breaks time, as dancers

From their own music when they stray.

All her free favors

And smooth words wing my hopes in vain.

O, did ever voice so sweet but only feign?
Can true love yield such delay,
Converting joy to pain?

Lost is our freedom

When we submit to women so:

Why do we need 'em

When, in their best, they work our woe?

There is no wisdom

Can alter ends by fate prefixed.

O, why is the good of man with evil mixed?

Never were days yet called two

But one night went betwixt.

DRINK to me only with thine eyes,

too And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup
100And I'll not look for wine.

592

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 honoring thee
As giving it a hope that there
It could not withered 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 (1573?-1637]

SONG

From "The Forest "

O, Do not wanton with those eyes,
Lest I be sick with seeing;

Nor cast them down, but let them rise,
Lest shame destroy their being.

O, be not angry with those fires,
For then their threats will kill me;

Nor look too kind on my desires,
For then my hopes will spill me.

O, do not steep them in thy tears,
For so will sorrow slay me;

Nor spread them as distract with fears;

Mine own enough betray me.

Ben Jonson (1573?-1637]

SONG

Go and catch a falling star,

Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,

Or who cleft the Devil's foot;

The Message

Teach me to hear mermaid's singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
And find

What wind

Serves to advance an honest mind.

If thou be'st born to strange sights,
Things invisible go see,

Ride ten thousand days and nights

Till Age snow white hairs on thee; Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me All strange wonders that befell thee, And swear

No where

Lives a woman true and fair.

If thou find'st one, let me know;
Such a pilgrimage were sweet.
Yet do not; I would not go,

Though at next door we might meet.
Though she were true when you met her,
And last till you write your letter,

Yet she

Will be

False, ere I come, to two or three.

593

John Donne [1573+1631]

THE MESSAGE

SEND home my long-strayed eyes to me,
Which, O! too long have dwelt on thee:
But if from you they've learned such ill,

To sweetly smile,

And then beguile,

Keep the deceivers, keep them still.

Send home my harmless heart again,

Which no unworthy thought could stain:
But if it has been taught by thine

To forfeit both

Its word and oath,

Keep it, for then 'tis none of mine.

Yet send me back my heart and eyes,
For I'll know all thy falsities;

That I one day may laugh, when thou
Shalt grieve and mourn—

Of one the scorn,

Who proves as false as thou art now.

SONG

John Donne [1573-1631]

LADIES, though to your conquering eyes
Love owes his chiefest victories,

And borrows those bright arms from you
With which he does the world subdue,
Yet you yourselves are not above
The empire nor the griefs of love.

Then rack not lovers with disdain,
Lest Love on you revenge their pain:
You are not free because you're fair:
The Boy did not his Mother spare.
Beauty's but an offensive dart:

It is no armor for the heart.

George Etherege [1635?-1691]

TO A LADY ASKING HIM HOW LONG HE WOULD LOVE HER

Ir is not, Celia, in our power

To say how long our love will last;

It may be we within this hour

May lose those joys we now do taste:

The Blessed, that immortal be,

From change in love are only free.

Then since we mortal lovers are,

Ask not how long our love will last;

But while it does, let us take care

Each minute be with pleasure passed:

Were it not madness to deny

To live because we're sure to die?

George Etherege [1635?-1691]

To Anthea

595

TO ENONE

WHAT Conscience, say, is it in thee,
When I a heart had one,

To take away that heart from me,
And to retain thy own?

For shame or pity now incline
To play a loving part;
Either to send me kindly thine,
Or give me back my heart.

Covet not both; but if thou dost
Resolve to part with neither,

Why, yet to show that thou art just,

Take me and mine together!

Robert Herrick [1591-1674]

TO ANTHEA, WHO MAY COMMAND HIM
ANYTHING

BID me to live, and I will live

Thy Protestant to be;

Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free

As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I'll give to thee.

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay

To honor thy decree;

Or bid it languish quite away,

And 't shall do so for thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep,
While I have eyes to see;
And having none, yet will I keep
A heart to weep for thee.