XLVI THE LIFE ACCORDING TO NATURE Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither! No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats And pleased with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. TO THE ONLIE BEGETTER OF THESE INSUING SONNETS MR. W. H. ALL HAPPINESSE AND THAT ETERNITIE PROMISED BY OUR EVER-LIVING POET WISHETH THE WELL-WISHING ADVENTURER IN SETTING FORTH T. T. TO HIS FRIEND, THAT HE SHOULD MARRY From fairest creatures we desire increase, But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament Within thine own bud buriest thy content Pity the world, or else this glutton be, To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee. A REVIVAL When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies, To say, within thine own deep sunken eyes, How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use, This were to be new made when thou art old, And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold. |