No More Learning

850. THE DELAYING BRIDE.

Why so slowly do you move
To the centre of your love?
On your niceness though we wait,
Yet the hours say 'tis late:
_Coyness takes us, to a measure;
But o'eracted deads the pleasure. _
Go to bed, and care not when
Cheerful day shall spring again.
One brave captain did command,
By his word, the sun to stand:
One short charm, if you but say,
Will enforce the moon to stay,
Till you warn her hence, away,
T' have your blushes seen by day.

_Niceness_, delicacy.


851. TO M. HENRY LAWES, THE EXCELLENT COMPOSER OF HIS LYRICS.

Touch but thy lyre, my Harry, and I hear
From thee some raptures of the rare Gotiere;
Then if thy voice commingle with the string,
I hear in thee rare Laniere to sing;
Or curious Wilson: tell me, canst thou be
Less than Apollo, that usurp'st such three?
Three, unto whom the whole world give applause;
Yet their three praises praise but one; that's Lawes.

_Gotiere_, Wilson, see above, 111.
_Laniere_, Nicholas Laniere (1590? -1670?
), musician and painter,
appointed Master of the King's Music in 1626.


852. AGE UNFIT FOR LOVE.

Maidens tell me I am old;
Let me in my glass behold
Whether smooth or not I be,
Or if hair remains to me.
Well, or be't or be't not so,
This for certainty I know,
Ill it fits old men to play,
When that Death bids come away.


853. THE BEDMAN, OR GRAVEMAKER.

Thou hast made many houses for the dead;
When my lot calls me to be buried,
For love or pity, prithee let there be
I' th' churchyard made one tenement for me.


854. TO ANTHEA.

Anthea, I am going hence
With some small stock of innocence:
But yet those blessed gates I see
Withstanding entrance unto me.
To pray for me do thou begin,
The porter then will let me in.


855. NEED.

Who begs to die for fear of human need,
Wisheth his body, not his soul, good speed.


856.