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And prized black eyes, or a lucky hit
At bowls, above all the trophies of wit;
But Apollo was angry, and publicly said,
'Twere fit that a fine were set upon's head.
Wat Montague now stood forth to his tryal,
And did not so much as suspect a denial ;
But witty Apollo asked him first of all,
If he understod his own Pastoral.
For if he could do it, 'twould plainly appear
He understood more than any man there,
And did merit the bayes above all the rest;
But the mounsieur was modest, and silence confest.
During these troubles in the court was hid
One that Apollo soon mist, little Cid:
And having spied him, call’d him out of the throng,
And advis'd him in his ear not to write so strong.
Murrey was summon’d, but 'twas urg'd that he
Was chief already of another company.
Hales, set by himself, most gravely did smile,
To see them about nothing keep such a coil ;
Apollo had spied him; but, knowing his mind,
Past by, and calld Faulkland, that sat just behind :

But
Ile was of late so gone with divinity,
That he had almost forgot his poetry;
Though to say the truth, (and Apollo did know it)
He might have been both his priest and his poet.

At length, who but an alderman did appear,
At which will Davenant began to swear;
But wiser Apollo bade him draw nigber,
And when he was mounted a little higher,
Openly declar'd, that the best sign
Of good store of wit's to have good store of coin : '
And without a syllable more or less said,
He put the lawrel on the alderman's head.
At this all the wits were in such a maze,
That for a good while they did nothing but gaze
One upon another, not a man in the place
But had discontent writ in great in his face.
Only the small poets clear'd up again,
Out of hope, as 'twas thought of borrowing:
But sure they were out, for he forfeits his crown,
When he lends any poets about the town.

SONG,

Why so pale and wan, fond love?

Prythee, why so pale ?
Will, when looking well can't move her,

Looking ill prevail ?

Prythee why so pale !
Why so dull and mute, young sinner?

Prythee, why so mute?
Will, when speaking well can't win her,

Saying nothing do't ?
Priythee, why so mute?

Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move,

This cannot take her;
If of her self she will not love,

Nothing can make her:
The Devil take her!

SONG.

Honest lover whosoever,
If in all thy love there ever
Was one wav’ring thought, if thy flame
Were not still even, still the same :

Know this,
Thou lov'st amiss;

And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.
If when she appears i' th’ room,
Thou dost not quake, and art struck dumb,
And in striving this to cover
Dost not speak thy words twice over,

Know this,
Thou lov'st amiss;

And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.
If fondly thou dost not mistake,
And all defects for graces take ;
Perswad'st thy self that jests are broken,
When she hath little or nothing spoken;

Know this,
Thou lov'st amiss ;

And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If when thou appear'st to be within,
Thou lett'st not men ask and ask again;
And when thou answer'st, if it be
To what was askt thee properly;

Know this,
Thou lov'st amiss;

And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.
If when thy stomach calls to eat,
Thou cutt'st not fingers 'stead of meat,
And with much gazing on her face
Dost not rise hungry from the place,

Know this,
Thou lov'st amiss ;

And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.
If by this thou dost discover
That thou art no perfect lover,
And desiring to love true,
Thou dost begin to love anew ;

Know this,
Thou lov'st amiss;

And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.

Q 2

LOVE AND DEBT ALIKE TROUBLESOME. This one request I make to him that sits the clouds

above, That I were freely out of debt, as I am out of love ; Then for to dance, to drink, and sing, I shou'd be

very willing; I should not owe one lass a kiss, nor e'er a knave a

shilling 'Tis only being in love and debt, that breaks us of

our rest; And he that is quite out of both, of all the world

is blest: He sees the golden age wherein all things were free

and common; He eats, he drinks, he takes his rest, he fears no

man nor woman.

Tho' Cræsus compassed great wealth, yet he still

craved more, He was as needy a beggar still, as goes from door

to door. Tho’Ovid was a merry man, love ever kept him sad ; He was as far from happiness, as one that is stark

mad.

SONG.

I PRYTHEE send me back my heart,
Since I cannot have thine ;
For if from yours you will not part,
Why then shou’d'st thou have mine?

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