THE NYMPHS REPLY.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields;
A honey tongue—a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs;
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.

But could youth last, and love still breed
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.

Sir Walter R.vi F.igii.

THE LIE.

Go, tell the court it glows,

And shines like rotten wood;
Go, tell the church it shows

What's good, and doth no good:
If church and court reply,
Then give them both the lie.

Tell potentates, they live

Acting by others' action,
Not loved unless they give,
Not strong but by a faction:
If potentates reply,
Give potentates the lie.

Tell men of high condition

That manage the estate,
Their purpose is ambition.
Their practice only hate:
And if they once reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell them that brave it most,

They beg for more by spending, Who in their greatest cost,

Seek nothing but commending.
And if they make reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell zeal it wants devotion,

Tell love it is but lust, Tell time it is but motion,

Tell flesh it is but dust: