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Another Mary then arose,

And did rigorous laws impose ;
A mighty tyrant, she!
Long, alas! should I have been
Under that iron-sceptred queen,

Had not Rebecca set me free.

When fair Rebecca set me free,

'Twas then a golden time with me;

But soon those pleasures fled;

For the gracious princess died,

In her youth and beauty's pride,

And Judith reignéd in her stead.

One month, three days, and half an hour, Judith held the sovereign power; Wondrous beautiful her face;

But so small and weak her wit,

That she to govern was unfit,

And so Susanna took her place.

But, when Isabella came,

Armed with a resistless flame,

And th' artillery of her eye; Whilst she proudly marched about Greater conquests to find out,

She beat out Susan, by the by.

But in her place I then obeyed

Black-eyed Bess, her viceroy-maid, To whom ensued a vacancy. Thousand worse passions then possessed The interregnum of my breast:

Bless me from such an anarchy!

Gentle Henrietta then,

And a third Mary next began;
Then Joan, and Jane, and Audria,

And then a pretty Thomasine,

And then another Catharine,

And then a long et cætera.

But should I now to you relate,

The strength and riches of their state,
The powders, patches, and the pins,

The ribands, jewels, and the rings,
The lace, the paint, and warlike things,
That make up all their magazines:

If I should tell the politic arts

To take and keep men's hearts; The letters, embassies, and spies, The frowns, and smiles, and flatteries, The quarrels, tears, and perjuries,

Numberless, nameless mysteries!

And all the little lime-twigs laid

By Machiavel, the waiting-maid;
I more voluminous should grow
(Chiefly, if I like them should tell
All change of weathers that befel)
Than Holinshed, or Stow.

But I will briefer with them be,

Since few of them were long with me.
An higher and a noble strain,

My present emperess doth claim,
Heleonora, first o' th' name,

Whom God grant long to reign!

ROBERT HERRICK.

1591-1674.

["Hesperides." 1648.]

CHERRY RIPE.

CHERRY ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,
Full and fair ones; come and buy!
If so be you ask me where

They do grow, I answer, There,
Where my Julia's lips do smile;
There's the land, or cherry-isle,
Whose plantations fully show

All the year where cherries grow.

THE ROCK OF RUBIES, AND THE QUARRY OF PEARLS.

Some asked me where the rubies grew,

And nothing I did say,

But with my finger pointed to

The lips of Julia.

Some asked how pearls did grow, and where,

Then spoke I to my girl,

To part her lips, and showed them there

The quarrelets of pearl.

THE CAPTIVED BEE, OR THE LITTLE FILCHER.

As Julia once a slumbering lay,
It chanced a bee did fly that way,
After a dew, or dew-like shower,
To tipple freely in a flower.

For some rich flower he took the lip

Of Julia, and began to sip;

But when he felt he sucked from thence

Honey, and in the quintessence,

He drank so much he scarce could stir,

So Julia took the pilferer,

And thus surprised, as filchers use,
He thus began himself t' excuse :
Sweet lady-flower, I never brought
Hither the least one thieving thought:
But taking those rare lips of yours
For some fresh, fragrant, luscious flowers,
I thought I might there take a taste,
Where so much syrup ran at waste.
Besides, know this, I never sting
The flower that gives me nourishing:
But with a kiss, or thanks, do pay
For honey that I bear away.
This said, he laid his little scrip

Of honey 'fore her ladyship;

And told her, as some tears did fall,

That that he took, and that was all.
At which she smiled, and bade him go
And take his bag, but thus much know:
When next he came a pilfering so,
He should from her full lips derive
Honey enough to fill his hive.

TO DAISIES, NOT TO SHUT SO SOON.

Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night
Has not as yet begun

To make a seizure on the light,
Or to seal up the sun.

No marigolds yet closed are,
No shadows great appear;

Nor doth the early shepherd's star
Shine like a spangle here.

Stay but till my Julia close

Her life-begetting eye;

And let the whole world then dispose
Itself to live, or die.

THE NIGHT-PIECE, TO JULIA.

Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee;
And the elves also,

Whose little eyes glow

Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

No Will-o'-th'-Wisp mislight thee;
Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;

But on, on thy way,

Not making a stay,

Since ghost there's none to affright thee.

Let not the dark thee cumber;

What though the moon does slumber?

The stars of the night,

Will lend thee their light,

Like tapers clear without number.

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