Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or, if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but else not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou mayst think my 'haviour
light:

But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be

Romeo.
If my heart's dear love-
Juliet. Well, do not swear: although I joy
in thee,

I have no joy of this contract to-night;
It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
Ere one can say it lightens-sweet, good-
night!

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

Good-night, good-night!—as sweet repose and rest

Come to thy heart as that within my breast! Romeo. Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatified? Juliet. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?

Romeo. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

Juliet. I gave thee mine before thou didst

request it:

And yet I would it were to give again.

Romeo. Wouldst thou withdraw it? For

what purpose, love?

Juliet. But to be frank, and give it thee again.

And yet I wish but for the thing I have:
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee
The more I have, for both are infinite.

I hear some noise within: dear love, adieu !
[Nurse calls within.
Anon, good nurse!-Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay but a little, I will come again.
[Exit.
Romeo O blessèd, blessèd night! I am
afeard

All this is but a dream I hear and see;
Too flattering sweet to be substantial.

Re-enter Juliet above.

Juliet. Three words, dear Romeo, and goodnight indeed.

If that thy bent of love be honourable,

Romeo. I would I were thy bird.
Juliet.

Sweet, so would I ; Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good-night, good-night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,

That I shall say good-night till it be morrow. Shakespeare.

THE SPANISH LADY'S COURTSHIP.

Will you hear a Spanish lady,
How she woo'd an English man?
Garments gay, as rich as may be,

Deck'd with jewels had she on :

Of a comely countenance and grace was she,
Both by birth and parentage of high degree.

As his prisoner there he kept her,
In his hands her life did lie;
Cupid's bands did tie them faster,
By the liking of an eye.

In his courteous company was all her joy,
To favour him in anything she was not coy.

But at last there came commandment
For to set all ladies free,
With their jewels still adornèd,

None to do them injury.

"Oh then," said this lady gay, "full woe is me Oh let me still sustain this kind captivity!

"Gallant captain, show some pity

To a lady in distress; Leave me not within this city,

For to die in heaviness:

Thou hast set, this present day, my body free, But my heart in prison still remains with thee."

"How shouldst thou, fair lady, love me,

Whom thou know'st thy country's foe? Thy fair words make me suspect thee; Serpents lie where flowers grow." "All the harm I wish on thee, most courteous knight,

God grant upon my head the same may fully light.

"Blessèd be the time and season

That thou cam'st on Spanish ground! If you may our foes be termed,

Gentle foes we have you found: With our city, you have won our hearts each

one,

Then to your country bear away that is your

own.

66

"It would be a shame, fair lady,

For to bear a woman hence;

English soldiers never carry

Any such without offence."

I will quickly change myself, if it be so, And, like a page, will follow thee where'er thou go."

"I have neither gold nor silver

To maintain thee in this case;

And to travel is great charges,

As you know, in every place."

"My chains and jewels every one shall be thy own,

And eke ten thousand pounds in gold that lies unknown."

"On the seas are many dangers, Many storms do there arise,

Which will be to ladies dreadful,

And force tears from wat'ry eyes.

"Well, in troth, I shall endure extremity,

For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee."

"Courteous lady, leave this folly,

Here comes all that breeds the strife;

I, in England, have already

A sweet woman to my wife;

I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain, Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain."

"Oh, how happy is that woman That enjoys so true a friend! Many happy days God send her :

And of my suit I'll make an end.

On my knees I pardon crave for my offence, Which love and true affection did first

commence.

ON THY LIPS I SEAL MY VOW.

Come, let me take thee to my breast, An' pledge we ne'er shall sunder; An' I shall spurn as vilest dust

The world's wealth an' grandeur : An' do I hear my Jeanie own

That equal transports move her? I ask for dearest life alone,

That I may live to love her. Thus in my arms, wi' all thy charms, I clasp my countless treasure; I'll seek nae mair o' heaven to share Than sic a moment's pleasure; An' by thy een sae bonnie blue, I swear I'm thine for ever! An' on thy lips I seal my vow, An' break it shall I never!

A FAITHFUL LOVER.

Philotinus if you'd approve

Yourself a faithful lover,

Burns.

You must no more my anger move,
But in the mildest terms of love

Your passion still discover.

Though born to rule, you must submit
To my command with awe;
Nor think your sex can you acquit,
For Cupid's empire won't admit,
Nor own, a Salic law.

Jane Brereton (1685).

HE NEVER GAVE HIS PASSION voice.

He never said he loved me,

Nor hymn'd my beauty's praise;

Yet there was something more than words In his full ardent gaze.

He never gave his passion voice;

Yet on his flushing cheek

I read a tale more tender far

Than softest tones could speak.

He never said he loved me:

Yet when none else were nigh,

How could I hear, and doubt the truth?
His low unbidden sigh,

The throbs of his tumultuous heart,
That faint sweet breath above;
What for me could syllable so well
The tale of hope and love?

He never said he loved me :
He silent worship vow'd,

The deep devotion of his soul

He never breathed aloud;

Though if he raised his voice in song,
As swell'd each tenderer tone,

It seem'd as if design'd to reach
My ear and heart alone!

He never said he loved me;

Yet the conviction came,

Like some great truth that stirs the soul
Ere yet it knows its name:
Some angel-whisper of a faith
That long defied our ken,

And made us almost feel that life
Had scarce begun till then!

And have I said I love him?
Alas for maiden pride,
That feeling he hath ne'er reveal'd
I have not learn'd to hide!
And yet clairvoyant Love informs
His votaries' hearts so well,
That long before 'tis time to speak
There's nothing left to tell.

Alaric A. Watts.

HER "YES" ONCE SAID SHALL BE FOR EVERMORE.

Learn to win a lady's faith

Nobly, as the thing is high;
Bravely, as for life and death-
With a loyal gravity.

Lead her from the festive boards,
Point her to the starry skies,
Guard her, by your truthful words,
Pure from courtship's flatteries.
By your truth she shall be true-
Ever true as wives of yore-
And her "yes," once said to you,
Shall be "yes" for evermore.
E. B. Browning.

YOU TO WHOM ALL LOVE IS DUE.

Winds were gentle, branches bending
Burthen'd with their crowns of dew,
Angel thoughts and shapes ascending
To the sky's autumnal blue,
When I first saw-you!

Never since that gracious morning
Have I felt so soft a clime,
Even when the Sun, adorning

Earth in summer's sweetest time,
Sings his golden rhyme.

Hearts were gentle, eyes were gleaming,
Like the branch with burthen'd dew;
Life was fill'd with beauty,-tell me

(You, to whom all love is due), Wherefore should there be an ending To a time so true?

Barry Cornwall.

WOOING AND WINNING. When I reach'd That tend'rest strain of all the ditty, My faltering voice and pausing harp Disturb'd her soul with pity!

All impulses of soul and sense

Had thrill'd my guileless Genevieve;
The music, and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve;

And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued-
Subdued and cherish'd long!

She wept with pity and delight,

She blush'd with love and virgin shame, And, like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name. Her bosom heaved; she stept asideAs conscious of my look she steptThen suddenly, with timorous eye, She fled to me, and wept.

She half enclosed me with her arms,

She press'd me with a meek embrace, And, bending back her head, look'd up And gazed into my face.

'Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly 'twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel than see
The swelling of her heart.

I calm'd her fears, and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride;
And so I won my Genevieve,

My bright and beauteous bride!

Coleridge.