No More Learning

May his soft foot, where it treads,
Gardens thence produce and meads:
And those meadows full be set
With the rose and violet.
May his ample name be known
To the last succession:
And his actions high be told
Through the world, but writ in gold.


267. TO ANTHEA, WHO MAY COMMAND HIM ANYTHING.

Bid me to live, and I will live
Thy Protestant to be,
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free
As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I'll give to thee.

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay
To honour thy decree:
Or bid it languish quite away,
And't shall do so for thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep
While I have eyes to see:
And, having none, yet I will keep
A heart to weep for thee.

Bid me despair, and I'll despair
Under that cypress-tree:
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E'en death to die for thee.

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me:
And hast command of every part
To live and die for thee.


268. PREVISION OR PROVISION.

_That prince takes soon enough the victor's room
Who first provides not to be overcome. _


269. OBEDIENCE IN SUBJECTS.
_The gods to kings the judgment give to sway:
The subjects only glory to obey. _


270. MORE POTENT, LESS PECCANT.

_He that may sin, sins least: leave to transgress
Enfeebles much the seeds of wickedness. _


271. UPON A MAID THAT DIED THE DAY SHE WAS MARRIED.

That morn which saw me made a bride,
The evening witness'd that I died.
Those holy lights, wherewith they guide
Unto the bed the bashful bride,
Serv'd but as tapers for to burn
And light my relics to their urn.
This epitaph, which here you see,
Supplied the epithalamy.


274. TO MEADOWS.

Ye have been fresh and green,
Ye have been fill'd with flowers,
And ye the walks have been
Where maids have spent their hours.
You have beheld how they
With wicker arks did come
To kiss and bear away
The richer cowslips home.

Y'ave heard them sweetly sing,
And seen them in a round:
Each virgin like a spring,
With honeysuckles crown'd.

But now we see none here
Whose silvery feet did tread,
And with dishevell'd hair
Adorn'd this smoother mead.

Like unthrifts, having spent
Your stock and needy grown,
Y'are left here to lament
Your poor estates, alone.