Diaphenia like to all things blessèd
When all thy praises are expressèd,
Dear joy, how I do love thee!

As the birds do love the spring,
Or the bees their careful king;

Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me!

Henry Constable.

LIII.

LOVE'S PETITION.

SAY NAY! SAY NAY!

AND wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay! for shame,
To save thee from the blame
Of all my grief and graine.
And wilt thou leave me thus !
Say nay! say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus,
That hath loved thee so long
In wealth and woe among:
And is thy heart so strong
As for to leave me thus?

Say nay! say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus,

That hath given thee my heart

Never for to depart

Neither for pain nor smart:

And wilt thou leave me thus?

Say nay! say nay!

And wilt thou leave me thus,

And have no more pity

Of him that ioveth thee?

Alas! thy cruelty!

And wilt thou leave me thus?

Say nay! say nay!

Sir Thomas Wyatt.

LIV.

LOVE'S PETITION.

NOT TOO ANGRY, NOR TOO KIND.

OH, do not wanton with, those eyes,
Lest I be sick with seeing;

Nor cast them down, but let them rise,
Lest shame destroy their being.

Oh, be not angry with those fires,
For then their threats will kill me !
Nor look too kind on my desires,
For then my hopes would spill me.

Oh, do not steep them in thy tears,
For so will sorrow slay me;

Nor spread them as distraught with fears;

Mine own enough betray me.

Ben Jonson.

LV.

LOVE'S PETITION.

FORGET NOT YET!

FORGET not yet the tried intent
Of such a truth as I have meant;
My great travail so gladly spent,
Forget not yet!

Forget not yet when first began
The weary life ye know, since whan
The suit, the service none tell can;
Forget not yet!

Forget not yet the great assays,
The cruel wrong, the scornful ways,

The painful patience in delays,

Forget not yet!

Forget not! O, forget not this,
How long ago hath been, and is
The mind that never meant amiss-
Forget not yet!

Forget not then thine own approved
The which so long hath thee so loved,
Whose steadfast faith yet never moved-
Forget not this!

LVI.

Sir Thomas Wyati.

LOVE'S PETITION.

TRUE MAN, FAIR WOMAN.

THERE is none, O, none but you,
Who from me estrange the sight,
Whom mine eyes affect to view,

And chained ears hear with delight.

Others' beauties others move :

In you I all the graces find;

Such are the effects of love,

To make them happy that are kind.

Women in frail beauty trust;

Only seem you kind to me!

Still be truly kind and just,

For that can't dissembled be.

Dear, afford me, then, your sight!

That, surveying all your looks,

Endless volumes I may write,

And fill the world with envied books.

Which, when after ages view,

All shall wonder and despair,— Women, to find a man so true, And men, a woman half so fair.

Robert, Earl of Essex.

LVII.

LOVE'S PETITION.

THE SOLDIER GOING TO THE FIELD.

PRESERVE thy sighs, unthrifty girl,
To purify the air;

Thy tears to thread, instead of peari,
On bracelets of your hair.

The trumpet makes the echo hoarse,
And wakes the louder drum;
Expense of mirth gains no remorse,
When sorrow should be dumb.
For I must go where lazy peace
Will hide her drowsy head,
And, for the sport of kings, increase
The number of the dead.

But first I'll chide thy cruel theft :
Can I in war delight,

Who being of my heart bereft,

Can have no heart to fight?

Thou know'st the sacred laws of old
Ordained a thief should pay,
To quit him of his theft, sevenfold
What he had stolen away.
Thy payment shall but double be;
O then with speed resign

My own seduced heart to me,

Accompanied with thine.

Sir William Davenant.

LVIII.

LOVE'S PETITION.

TO SEND BACK HIS HEART.

I PRITHEE send me back my heart
Since I cannot have thine;

For if from yours you will not part,

Why, then, shouldst thou have mine?

Yet now I think on't, let it lie,

To find it were in vain;

For thou'st a thief in either eye
Would steal it back again.

Why should two hearts in one breast lie,
And yet not lodge together?

O Love! where is thy sympathy,
If thus our breasts thou sever?

But love is such a mystery,

I cannot find it out;

For when I think I'm best resolved,
Then I am most in doubt.

Then farewell care, and farewell woe;

I will no longer pine;

For I'll believe I have her heart,

As much as she has mine.

LIX.

Sir John Suckling.

LOVE'S PETITION.

MORE LOVE OR MORE DISDAIN.

GIVE me more love or more disdain;
The torrid or the frozen zone
Bring equal ease unto my pain;

The temperate affords me none.
Either extreme of love or hate
Is sweeter than a calm estate.

Give me a storm; if it be love,
Like Danae in that golden shower,
I swim in pleasure; if it prove

Disdain, that torrent will devour
My vulture hopes; and he's possessed
Of heaven that s but from hell released.

Then crown my joys or cure my pain;
Give me more love or more disdain.

Thomas Carew.