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Still to be neat, still to be drest
As you were going to a feast.

The Silent W oinan. Acti. Sc. I.
Give me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace.
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free;
Such sweet neglect more taketh me,
Than all th' adulteries of art ;
They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. Ibid.

In small proportion we just beauties see,
And in short measures life may perfect be.

Good Life, Long Lifu.
Underneath this stone doth lie
As much beauty as could die;
Which in life did harbour give
To more virtue than doth live.

Epitaph on Elizabeth.

Underneath this sable hearse
Lies the subject of all verse,
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother.
Death! ere thou hast slain another,
Learn’d and fair and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee.

Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke.

Soul of the age !
The applause! delight ! the wonder of our stage!
My Shakspere rise! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
A little further, to make thee a room.

To the Memory of Shakoper.


* Cf. Basse, P. 151.

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Small Latin, and less Greek.

To the Memory of Shakspere. He was not of an age, but for all time.


Sweet swan of Avon !


Get money ; still get money, boy ;
No matter by what means.

Every Man in his Humour. Act ii. Sc. 3.


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THAT things have we seen

Done at the Mermaid ! heard words that have

So nimble and so full of subtile flame,
As if that every one from whence they came
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,
And resolved to live a fool the rest
Of his dull life.

Letter to Ben Jonson.


JOHN FLETCHER. 1576-1625.


UR acts our angels are, or good or ill,
Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.

Upon an 'Honest Man's Fortune.'

* Get place and wealth, if possible, with grace;
If not, by any means get wealth and place.

Pope. Horace, Ep. i. Book !.



THOMAS CAREW. 1589-1639.

HE that loves a rosy cheek,

a ,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek

Fuel to maintain his fires ;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.

Disdain Returned'.

Then fly betimes, for only they
Conquer love, that run away.

Conquest by Flight.



N part to blame is she,

Which hath without consent bin only tride : He comes to neere that comes to be denide.*

A Wife. St. 36.

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Be she fairer than the day,
Or the flow'ry meads in May,

If she be not so to me,
What care I how fair she be !*

The Shepherd's Resolution.


E wisely worldly, but not worldly wise.

Emblems. Book ii. 2.
This house is to be let for life or years ;
Her rent is sorrow, and her income tears ;
Cupid't has long stood void ; her bills make known,
She must be dearly let, or let alone. Ibid. Book ii. 10.

GEORGE HERBERT. 1593-1632.

SWEET day, so cool

, so calm, so bright


The bridal of the earth and sky.


* Shall I like a hermit dwell

On a rock or in a cell,
Calling home the smallest part
That is missing of my heart,
To bestow it where I may
Meet a rival every day?

If she undervalue me
What care I how fair she be?

Attributed to Sir Walter Raleigh.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie.


Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like seasoned timber, never gives.


Like summer friends, Flies of estate and sunshine.

The Answer.

A servant with this clause

Makes drudgery divine ;
Who sweeps a room as for thy laws

Makes that and the action fine.

The Elixir.

A verse may find him who a sermon flies,
And turn delight into a sacrifice. The Church Porch.

Dare to be true, nothing can need a lie;
A fault which needs it most, grows two thereby.*


The worst speak something good ; if all want sense, God takes a text, and preacheth Pa-ti-ence.


Bibles laid open, millions of surprises.


Man is one world, and hath Another to attend him.


If goodness lead him not, yet weariness

May toss him to my breast.

The Pulley.

* And he that does one fault at first,
And lies to hide it, makes it two.

Watts. Against Lying.

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