Comanding asker, if it be Pity that you faine would have, Then I turne begger unto thee, And aske the thing that thou dost… I will suffice thy hungry need,

Strive not, vain lover, to be fine… Thy silk’s the silk-worm’s, and no… You lessen to a fly your mistriss’… To think it may be in a cobweb cau… What, though her thin transparent…

The childish god of love did swear… Thus: By my awfull bow and quiver… Yon’ weeping, kissing, smiling pai… I’le scatter all their vowes i’ th… And their knit imbraces shiver.

Sir, how unravell’d is the golden… Men, that could only fool at FOX… Are new-made polititians by thy bo… And both can judge and conquer wit… The hidden fate of princes you unf…

Sweet serene skye-like Flower, Haste to adorn her Bower: From thy long clowdy bed, Shoot forth thy damaske head. II.

AD M. T. CICERONEM. CATUL EP. 50. Disertissime Romuli nepotum, Quot sunt, quotque fuere, Marce T… Quotque post alios erunt in annos,

Oh, stay that covetous hand; first… All depth and minde; then mystical… Her soul’s faire picture, her fair… So truely copied from th’ original… That you will sweare her body by t…

Heark! Oh heark! you guilty Tre… In whose gloomy Galleries Was the cruell’st murder done, That e’re yet eclipst the Sunne ; Be then henceforth in your twigges

Amarantha sweet and fair Ah braid no more that shining hair… As my curious hand or eye Hovering round thee let it fly. Let it fly as unconfin’d

Forbear this liquid fire, Fly, It is more fatal then the dry, That singly, but embracing, wounds… And this at once both burns and dr… II.

Cleft as the top of the inspired h… Struggles the soul of my divided q… Whilst this foot doth the watry mo… That Sinai’s living and enlivenin… Behold my powers storm’d by a twis…

AH Lucasta, why so Bright! Spread with early streaked light! If still vailed from our sight, What is’t but eternall night? II

SEE! what a clouded Majesty! a… Whose glory through their mist dot… See! what an humble bravery doth… And griefe triumphant breaking thr… How it commands the face! so swee…

Like to the sent’nel stars, I wat… For still the grand round of your… And glorious breast Awake in me an east: Nor will my rolling eyes ere know…

No more Thou little winged Archer, now no… As heretofore, Thou maist pretend within my breas… No more,