THE TRIPLE FOOL

I AM two fools, I know,

For loving, and for saying so

In whining poetry;

But where's that wise man, that would not be I, If she would not deny ?

Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes Do purge sea water's fretful salt away,

I thought, if I could draw my pains

Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay. Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce, For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.

But when I have done so,

Some man, his art and voice to show,

Doth set and sing my pain;
And, by delighting many, frees again
Grief, which verse did restrain.

To love and grief tribute of verse belongs,
But not of such as pleases when 't is read.
Both are increasèd by such songs,

For both their triumphs so are published,

And I, which was two fools, do so grow three.

Who are a little wise, the best fools be.

WOMAN'S

CONSTANCY

Now thou hast loved me one whole day, To-morrow when thou leavest, what wilt thou say?

Wilt thou then antedate some new-made vow?

We are not just those persons which we were?
Or that oaths made in reverential fear
Of Love and his wrath, any may forswear?
Or, as true deaths true marriages untie,

So lovers' contracts, images of those,

Bind but till sleep, death's image, them unloose?
Or, your own end to justify,

For having purposed change, and falsehood, you
Can have no way but falsehood to be true?
Vain lunatic, against these 'scapes I could

Dispute, and conquer, if I would;
Which I abstain to do,

For by to-morrow I may think so too.

SONG

Go and catch a falling star,

Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devil's foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
Or find

What wind

Serves to advance an honest mind.
id

If thou be'st born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,

Ride ten thousand days and nights,

Till

age snow white hairs on thee, Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,

All strange wonders that befell thee,

And swear,

No where

Lives a woman true and fair.

If thou find'st one, let me know;
Such a pilgrimage were sweet.

Though at next door we might meet.

Though she were true when you met her,

False, ere I come, to two or three.