729. UPON LUCIA DABBLED IN THE DEW.

My Lucia in the dew did go, And prettily bedabbled so, Her clothes held up, she showed withal Her decent legs, clean, long, and small.

I follow'd after to descry Part of the nak'd sincerity; But still the envious scene between Denied the mask I would have seen.

_Decent_, in the Latin sense, comely; _sincerity_, purity.

_Scene_, a curtain or "drop-scene".

_Mask_, a play.

730. CHARON AND PHILOMEL; A DIALOGUE SUNG.

_Ph._ Charon! O gentle Charon! let me woo thee By tears and pity now to come unto me.

_Ch._ What voice so sweet and charming do I hear?

Say what thou art. _Ph._ I prithee first draw near.

_Ch._ A sound I hear, but nothing yet can see; Speak, where thou art. _Ph._ O Charon pity me!

I am a bird, and though no name I tell, My warbling note will say I'm Philomel.

_Ch._ What's that to me? I waft nor fish or fowls, Nor beasts, fond thing, but only human souls.

_Ph._ Alas for me! _Ch._ Shame on thy witching note That made me thus hoist sail and bring my boat: But I'll return; what mischief brought thee hither?

_Ph._ A deal of love and much, much grief together.

_Ch._ What's thy request? _Ph._ That since she's now beneath Who fed my life, I'll follow her in death.

_Ch._ And is that all? I'm gone. _Ph._ By love I pray thee.

_Ch._ Talk not of love; all pray, but few souls pay me.

_Ph._ I'll give thee vows and tears. _Ch._ Can tears pay scores For mending sails, for patching boat and oars?

_Ph._ I'll beg a penny, or I'll sing so long Till thou shalt say I've paid thee with a song.

_Ch._ Why then begin; and all the while we make Our slothful pa.s.sage o'er the Stygian Lake, Thou and I'll sing to make these dull shades merry, Who else with tears would doubtless drown my ferry.

_Fond_, foolish.

_She's now beneath_, her mother Zeuxippe?

733. A TERNARY OF LITTLES, UPON A PIPKIN OF JELLY SENT TO A LADY.

A little saint best fits a little shrine, A little prop best fits a little vine: As my small cruse best fits my little wine.

A little seed best fits a little soil, A little trade best fits a little toil: As my small jar best fits my little oil.

A little bin best fits a little bread, A little garland fits a little head: As my small stuff best fits my little shed.

A little hearth best fits a little fire, A little chapel fits a little choir: As my small bell best fits my little spire.

A little stream best fits a little boat, A little lead best fits a little float: As my small pipe best fits my little note.

A little meat best fits a little belly, As sweetly, lady, give me leave to tell ye, This little pipkin fits this little jelly.

734. UPON THE ROSES IN JULIA'S BOSOM.

Thrice happy roses, so much grac'd to have Within the bosom of my love your grave.

Die when ye will, your sepulchre is known, Your grave her bosom is, the lawn the stone.

735. MAIDS' NAYS ARE NOTHING.

Maids' nays are nothing, they are shy But to desire what they deny.

736. THE SMELL OF THE SACRIFICE.

The G.o.ds require the thighs Of beeves for sacrifice; Which roasted, we the steam Must sacrifice to them, Who though they do not eat, Yet love the smell of meat.

737. LOVERS: HOW THEY COME AND PART.

A gyges' ring they bear about them still, To be, and not seen when and where they will.

They tread on clouds, and though they sometimes fall, They fall like dew, but make no noise at all.

So silently they one to th' other come, As colours steal into the pear or plum, And air-like, leave no pression to be seen Where'er they met or parting place has been.

_Gyges' ring_, which made the wearer invisible.

738. TO WOMEN, TO HIDE THEIR TEETH IF THEY BE ROTTEN OR RUSTY.

Close keep your lips, if that you mean To be accounted inside clean: For if you cleave them we shall see There in your teeth much leprosy.

739. IN PRAISE OF WOMEN.

O Jupiter, should I speak ill Of woman-kind, first die I will; Since that I know, 'mong all the rest Of creatures, woman is the best.

740. THE Ap.r.o.n OF FLOWERS.

To gather flowers Sappha went, And homeward she did bring Within her lawny continent The treasure of the spring.

She smiling blush'd, and blushing smil'd, And sweetly blushing thus, She look'd as she'd been got with child By young Favonius.

Her ap.r.o.n gave, as she did pa.s.s, An odour more divine, More pleasing, too, than ever was The lap of Proserpine.

_Continent_, anything that holds, here the bosom of her dress.

741. THE CANDOUR OF JULIA'S TEETH.

White as Zen.o.bia's teeth, the which the girls Of Rome did wear for their most precious pearls.

_Zen.o.bia_, Queen of Palmyra, conquered by the Romans, A.D. 273.