_End._ For love's sake, tell me how.

_Lyc._ In this regard: that thou do'st play Upon another plain, And for a rural roundelay Strik'st now a courtly strain.

Thou leav'st our hills, our dales, our bowers, Our finer fleeced sheep, Unkind to us, to spend thine hours Where shepherds should not keep.

I mean the court: Let Latmos be My lov'd Endymion's court.

_End._ But I the courtly state would see.

_Lyc._ Then see it in report.

What has the court to do with swains, Where Phyllis is not known?

Nor does it mind the rustic strains Of us, or Corydon.

Break, if thou lov'st us, this delay.

_End._ Dear Lycidas, e're long I vow, by Pan, to come away And pipe unto thy song.

Then Jessamine, with Florabell, And dainty Amaryllis, With handsome-handed Drosomell Shall prank thy hook with lilies.

_Lyc._ Then t.i.tyrus, and Corydon, And Thyrsis, they shall follow With all the rest; while thou alone Shalt lead like young Apollo.

And till thou com'st, thy Lycidas, In every genial cup, Shall write in spice: Endymion 'twas That kept his piping up.

And, my most lucky swain, when I shall live to see Endymion's moon to fill up full, remember me: Meantime, let Lycidas have leave to pipe to thee.

_Oat_, oaten pipe.

_Prank_, bedeck.

_Drosomell_, honey dew.

493. TO A BED OF TULIPS.

Bright tulips, we do know You had your coming hither, And fading-time does show That ye must quickly wither.

Your sisterhoods may stay, And smile here for your hour; But die ye must away, Even as the meanest flower.

Come, virgins, then, and see Your frailties, and bemoan ye; For, lost like these, 'twill be As time had never known ye.

494. A CAUTION.

That love last long, let it thy first care be To find a wife that is most fit for thee.

Be she too wealthy or too poor, be sure _Love in extremes can never long endure_.

495. TO THE WATER NYMPHS DRINKING AT THE FOUNTAIN.

Reach, with your whiter hands, to me Some crystal of the spring; And I about the cup shall see Fresh lilies flourishing.

Or else, sweet nymphs, do you but this, To th' gla.s.s your lips incline; And I shall see by that one kiss The water turn'd to wine.

496. TO HIS HONOURED KINSMAN, SIR RICHARD STONE.

To this white temple of my heroes here, Beset with stately figures everywhere Of such rare saintships, who did here consume Their lives in sweets, and left in death perfume, Come, thou brave man! And bring with thee a stone Unto thine own edification.

High are these statues here, besides no less Strong than the heavens for everlastingness: Where build aloft; and, being fix'd by these, Set up thine own eternal images.

497. UPON A FLY.

A golden fly one show'd to me, Clos'd in a box of ivory, Where both seem'd proud: the fly to have His burial in an ivory grave; The ivory took state to hold A corpse as bright as burnish'd gold.

One fate had both, both equal grace; The buried, and the burying-place.

Not Virgil's gnat, to whom the spring All flowers sent to's burying; Not Martial's bee, which in a bead Of amber quick was buried; Nor that fine worm that does inter Herself i' th' silken sepulchre; Nor my rare Phil,[K] that lately was With lilies tomb'd up in a gla.s.s; More honour had than this same fly, Dead, and closed up in ivory.

_Virgil's gnat_, see 256.

_Martial's bee_, see Note.

[K] _Sparrow._ (Note in the original edition.)

499. TO JULIA.

Julia, when thy Herrick dies, Close thou up thy poet's eyes: And his last breath, let it be Taken in by none but thee.

500. TO MISTRESS DOROTHY PARSONS.

If thou ask me, dear, wherefore I do write of thee no more, I must answer, sweet, thy part Less is here than in my heart.

502. HOW HE WOULD DRINK HIS WINE.

Fill me my wine in crystal; thus, and thus I see't in's _puris naturalibus_: Unmix'd. I love to have it smirk and shine; _'Tis sin I know, 'tis sin to throttle wine_.

What madman's he, that when it sparkles so, Will cool his flames or quench his fires with snow?

503. HOW MARIGOLDS CAME YELLOW.

Jealous girls these sometimes were, While they liv'd or lasted here: Turn'd to flowers, still they be Yellow, mark'd for jealousy.

504. THE BROKEN CRYSTAL.

To fetch me wine my Lucia went, Bearing a crystal continent: But, making haste, it came to pa.s.s She brake in two the purer gla.s.s, Then smil'd, and sweetly chid her speed; So with a blush beshrew'd the deed.

_Continent_, holder.

505. PRECEPTS.

Good precepts we must firmly hold, By daily learning we wax old.