No More Learning

Doth measure women win? Then I know why
Most of our Ladies with the Scotts doe lie.
A Scott is measur'd in each syllable, terse
And smooth as a verse: and like that smooth verse 10
Is shallow, and wants matter, but in his handes,
And they are rugged; Her state better standes
Whom dauncing measures tempted, not the Scott:
In brief she's out of measure, lost, soe gott.
Greene-sickness wenches, (not needes must but) may 15
Looke pale, breathe short; at Court none so long stay.
Good witt ne're despair'd there, or _Ay me_ said:
For never Wench at Court was ravished.
And shee but cheates on Heaven, whom you so winne
Thinking to share the sport, but not the sinne. 20


[An Elegie. _A10_: _similarly_, _B_, _H40_, _L74_, _O'F_,
_RP31_: Elegia Undecima. _S_: _no title_, _Cy_, _P_ (J. D _in
margin_): _first printed by Grosart_]

[1 findes] kindles _RP31_]

[5 do _A10_, _L74_: doth _Grosart and Chambers_]

[7 women win? _A10_: win women? _L74_]

[11 but in his handes, _A10_, _B_, _L74_, _O'F_, _P_: but's
in's bands _S_: cut in bands _Grosart and Chambers_: writt in
his hands _H-K_ (_teste Grosart_)]

[14 she's _A10_, _L74_, _P_, _H-K_ (_Grosart_): theyre _S_,
_Chambers_

soe] if _A10_]

[17 ne're _A10_: neare _L74_]




_Song. _

Deare Love, continue nice and chaste,
For, if you yeeld you doe me wrong,
Let duller wits to loves end haste,
I have enough to wooe thee long.

All paine and joy is in their way; 5
The things we feare bring lesse annoy
Then feare; and hope brings greater joy;
But in themselves they cannot stay.

Small favours will my prayers increase;
Granting my suit you give me all, 10
And then my prayers must needs surcease,
For, I have made your Godhead fall.
Beasts cannot witt nor beauty see,
They mans affections onely move;
Beasts other sports of love doe prove, 15
With better feeling farre than we.

Then Love prolong my suite, for thus
By losing sport, I sport doe win;
And that may vertue prove in us,
Which ever yet hath beene a sinne. 20

My comming neare may spie some ill,
And now the world is given to scoffe;
To keepe my Love, (then) keepe me off,
And so I shall admire thee still.

Say I have made a perfect choyce, 25
Satietie our Love may kill;
Then give me but thy face and voyce,
Mine eye and eare thou canst not fill.

To make me rich (oh) be not poore,
Give me not all, yet something lend, 30
So I shall still my suite commend,
And you at will doe lesse or more.
But, if to all you condescend,
My love, our sport, your Godhead end.


[Song. _1635-69_: _no title_, _A10_, _B_, _HN_ (_signed_ J.
R. ), _L74_ (Finis. JR monogram), _O'F_, _P_, _S96_]

[1 Love,] Love _1635-69_]

[13 witt] will, _1635-54_]

[14 They, _1635-69_: Those _L74_]

[18 I sport] I sports _1635-54_]

[19 that may _A10_, _HN_, _L74_: that doth _1635-69_: let that
_B_]

[26 Satietie] Sacietie _1635-39_, _L74_

Love _A10_, _B_, _HN_, _L74_, _S96_: selves _1635-69_]

[28 Mine _MSS. _: My _1635-39_]

[32 you at will] at your will _S96_]




_To Ben. Iohnson_, 6 _Ian. _ 1603.

The State and mens affaires are the best playes
Next yours; 'Tis nor more nor lesse than due praise.
Write, but touch not the much descending race
Of Lords houses, so settled in worths place,
As but themselves none thinke them usurpers.