Ask me no more if East or West,
The Phenix builds her spicy nest:
For unto you at last she flyes,

And in your fragrant bosome dies.

Thomas Carew.

To Roses in the bosome of Castara.

Ee blushing Virgins happy are

In the chaste Nunn'ry of her brests,
For hee'd prophane so chaste a faire,
Who ere should call them Cupids nests.

Transplanted thus how bright yee grow;
How rich a perfume doe yee yeeld?
In some close garden, Cowslips so
Are sweeter then i' th' open field.

In those white cloysters live secure
From the rude blasts of wanton breath,
Each houre more innocent and pure,
shall wither into death.

Till

you

Then that which living gave you roome,
Your glorious sepulcher shall be,
There wants no marble for a tombe,
Whose brest hath marble beene to me.

William Habington.

20

ΤΟ

OF

Sonnet.

F thee (kind boy) I ask no red and white
to make up my delight,

no odd becomming graces,

Black eyes, or little know-not-whats, in faces;
Make me but mad enough, give me good store
Of Love, for her I court,

I ask no more,

'Tis love in love that makes the sport.

There's no such thing as that we beauty call, it is meer cousenage all ;

for though some long ago

Like 't certain colours mingled so and so,
That doth not tie me now from chusing new,
If I a fancy take

To black and blue,

That fancy doth it beauty make.

Tis not the meat, but 'tis the appetite makes eating a delight,

and if I like one dish

More then another, that a Pheasant is ;

What in our watches, that in us is found,
So to the height and nick

We up be wound,

No matter by what hand or trick.

Sir John Suckling.

10

20

OH

Sonnet.

H! for some honest Lovers ghost,
Some kind unbodied post
Sent from the shades below.
I strangely long to know

Whether the nobler Chaplets wear,
Those that their mistresse scorn did bear,
Or those that were us'd kindly.

For what-so-e're they tell us here

To make those sufferings dear,
"Twill there I fear be found,
That to the being crown'd,

T' have lov'd alone will not suffice,
Unlesse we also have been wise,

And have our Loves enjoy'd.

What posture can we think him in,
That here unlov'd agen

Departs, and 's thither gone

n?

Where each sits by his own

Or how can that Elizium be

Where I

my

Mistresse still must see
Circled in others Armes?

For there the Judges all are just,
And Sophonisba must

Be his whom she held dear;

Not his who lov'd her here:

The sweet Philoclea since she dy'de

Lies by her Pirocles his side,

Not by Amphialus.

10

20

Some Bayes (perchance) or Myrtle bough,

For difference crowns the brow

Of those kind souls that were

The noble Martyrs here;

And if that be the onely odds

(As who can tell) ye kinder Gods,

Give me the Woman here.

Sir John Suckling.

30

Y dearest Rival, least our Love

Mshould with excentrique motion move,

Before it learn to go astray,

Wee'l teach and set it in a way,

And such directions give unto't,

That it shall never wander foot.

Know first then, we will serve as true
For one poor smile, as we would do
If we had what our higher flame,
Or our vainer wish could frame.
Impossible shall be our hope;
And Love shall onely have his scope
To joyn with Fancy now and then,
And think what reason would condemn :
And on these grounds wee'l love as true,
As if they were most sure t'ensue:
And chastly for these things wee'l stay,
As if to morrow were the day.
Mean time we two will teach our hearts
In Loves burdens bear their parts :
Thou first shall sigh, and say shee's fair;
And I'le still answer, past compare.

ΤΟ

20

Thou shalt set out each part o' th face,
While I extol each little grace;

Thou shalt be ravisht at her wit;
And I, that she so governs it:

Thou shalt like well that hand, that eye,
That lip, that look, that majesty;

And in good language them adore:
While I want words, and do it more.

Yea we will sit and sigh a while,

And with soft thoughts some time beguile;
But straight again break out and praise
All we had done before new-waies.

Thus will we do till paler death
Come with a warrant for our breath,
And then whose fate shall be to die
First of us two, by Legacy
Shall all his store bequeath, and give
His love to him that shall survive;

For no one stock can ever serve

To love so much as shee'l deserve.

Song.

Sir John Suckling.

Ut upon it, I have lov'd

Three whole days together;

And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.

Time shall moult away his wings.

Ere he shall discover

In the whole wide world agen

Such a constant Lover.

30

40