I, that did wear the ring her mother left, I, who did make her blush when I was namèd: Was it for this that I might Myra see Washing the water with her beauty's white? Yet would she never write her love to me. Thinks wit of change when thoughts are in delight? 97. Lo THOMAS LODGE Rosalind's Madrigal OVE in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet: Now with his wings he plays with me, Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; And if I sleep, then percheth he And makes his pillow of my knee 96. deceive] betray. 1556?-1625 98. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string; Else I with roses every day Will whip you hence, And bind you, when you long to play, I'll shut mine eyes to keep you in; What if I beat the wanton boy He will repay me with annoy, Then sit thou safely on my knee; Spare not, but play thee! Phillis I Y Phillis hath the morning sun MY At first to look upon her; And Phillis hath morn-waking birds Her risings still to honour. My Phillis hath prime-feather'd flowers, And Phillis hath a gallant flock, Alas that she should have it! Nor grace to those that crave it. LOVE guards the roses of thy lips And flies about them like a bee; If I approach he forward skips, Love in thine eyes doth build his bower, And if I look the boy will lower, And from their orbs shoot shafts divine. Love works thy heart within his fire, And of my plaints doth make a game. Love, let me cull her choicest flowers; But if thou do not, Love, I'll truly serve her In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her. LIKE to the clear in highest sphere Of selfsame colour is her hair Her eyes are sapphires set in snow, Heigh ho, would she were mine! Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud Her lips are like two budded roses Heigh ho, would she were mine! Her neck like to a stately tower Her paps are centres of delight, Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame, Where Nature moulds the dew of light To feed perfection with the same: Heigh ho, would she were mine! With orient pearl, with ruby red, Yet soft to touch and sweet in view: Nature herself her shape admires ; Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan Since for a fair there's fairer none, Nor for her virtues so divine: Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were mine! AIR and fair, and twice so fair, FAIR As fair as any may be; The fairest shepherd on our green, Paris. Fair and fair, and twice so fair, As fair as any may be; Thy love is fair for thee alone, 1558?-97 Enone. My love is fair, my love is gay, |