Ulisses art is now withstood:

You ravish both with sweet and good;
Saint Syren, sing, for I dare heare,
But when I ope', oh, stop your eare.

Far lesse be't æmulation

To passe me, or in trill or tone,
Like the thin throat of Philomel,
And the smart lute who should excell,
As if her soft cords should begin,
And strive for sweetnes with the pin.

Yet can I musick too; but such As is beyond all voice or touch; My minde can in faire order chime, Whilst my true heart still beats the time; My soule ['s] so full of harmonie,

That it with all parts can agree;

If you winde up to the highest fret,
It shall descend an eight from it,
And when you shall vouchsafe to fall,
Sixteene above you it shall call,
And yet, so dis-assenting one,
They both shall meet in unison.

Come then, bright cherubin, begin! My loudest musick is within.

Take all notes with your skillfull

eyes;

Hearke, if mine do not sympathise!
Sound all my thoughts, and see exprest
The tablature of my large brest;
Then you'l admit, that I too can
Musick above dead sounds of man;
Such as alone doth blesse the spheres,
Not to be reacht with humane eares.

Now

VALIANT LOVE

I

OW fie upon that everlasting life! I dye! She hates! Ah me! It makes me mad; As if love fir'd his torch at a moist eye,

Or with his joyes e're crown'd the sad. Oh, let me live and shout, when I fall on; Let me ev'n triumph in the first attempt! Loves duellist from conquest 's not exempt, When his fair murdresse shall not gain one groan, And he expire ev'n in ovation.

II

Let me make my approach, when I lye downe
With counter-wrought and travers eyes;
With peals of confidence batter the towne;
Had ever beggar yet the keyes?

No, I will vary stormes with sun and winde;
Be rough, and offer calme condition;

March in and pread, or starve the garrison.
Let her make sallies hourely: yet I'le find
(Though all beat of) shee's to be undermin'd.

III

Then may it please your little excellence
Of hearts t' ordaine, by sound of lips,
That henceforth none in tears dare love comence
(Her thoughts ith' full, his, in th' eclipse);
On paine of having 's launce broke on her bed,
That he be branded all free beauties' slave,

And his own hollow eyes be domb'd his grave: Since in your hoast that coward nere was fed, Who to his prostrate ere was prostrated.

་

LA BELLA BONA ROBA

TO MY LADY H.

ODE

I

ELL me, ye subtill judges in loves treasury,

TELL

Inform me, which hath most inricht mine eye, This diamonds greatnes, or its clarity?

II

Ye cloudy spark lights, whose vast multitude
Of fires are harder to be found then view'd,
Waite on this star in her first magnitude.

III

Calmely or roughly! Ah, she shines too much;
That now I lye (her influence is such),
Chrusht with too strong a hand, or soft a touch.

IV

Lovers, beware! a certaine, double harme

Waits your proud hopes, her looks al-killing charm
Guarded by her as true victorious arme.