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THE LADY GERALDINE TO HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY.
In Cupid's school I never read those books,
My house from Florence I do not pretend, Nor from those Geralds claim I to descend; Nor hold those honours insufficient are, That I receive from Desmond or Kildare : Nor better air will ever boast to breathe, Than that of Leinster, Munster, or of Meath : Nor crave I other foreign far allies, Than Windsor's or Fitz-Gerald's families : It is enough to leave unto my heirs, If they but please t acknowledge me for theirs.
To what place ever did the court remove, But that the house gives matter to my love ? At Windsor still I see thee sit and walk, There mount thy courser, there devise, there talk, The robes, the garter, and the state of kings, Into my thoughts thy hoped greatness brings : None-such, the name imports (methinks) so much, None such as it, nor as my
none such: In Hampton's great magnificence I find The lively image of thy princely mind : Fair Richmond's tow'rs like goodly trophies stand, Rear'd by the pow'r of thy victorious hand; White-Hall's triumphing galleries are yet Adorn'd with rich devices of thy wit: In Greenwich still, as in a glass, I view, Where last thou bad'st thy Geraldine adieu.
With ev'ry little perling breath that blows, How are my thoughts confused with joys and woes! As through a gate, so through my longing ears Pass to my heart whole multitudes of
fears. Oh, in a map that I might see thee show The place where now in danger thou dost go! Whilst we discourse, to travel with our eye Romania, Tuscan, and fair Lombardy ; Or with thy pen exactly to set down The model of that temple or that town; And to relate at large where thou hast been, As there, and there, and what thou there hast seen; Expressing in a figure, by thy hand, How Naples lies, how Florence fair doth stand: Or as the Grecian's finger dipp'd in wine, Drawing a river in a little line, And with a drop, a gulf to figure out, To model Venice moated round about; Then adding more to counterfeit a sea, And draw the front of stately Genoa. These from thy lips were like harmonious tones, Which now do sound like mandrake's dreadful groans.
Some travel hence t'enrich their minds with skill, Leave here their good, and bring home others' ill; Which seem to like all countries but their own, Affecting most where they the least are known: Their leg, their arm, their back, their neck, their
The Muses' train (whereof yourself are chief)
Some praise thy worth (that it did never know),
When shall the Muses by fair Norwich dwell,
In pretty riddles to bewray our loves,
How near I am now to a happiness
The violet bed's not sweeter! Happy wedlock
Now for a welcome Able to draw men's envies upon man; A kiss, now, that will hang upon my lip As sweet as morning dew upon a rose, And full as long.
BENJAMIN JOnson. 1574-1637.
FROM CYNTHIA'S REVELS.
Now the sun is laid to sleep;
State in wonted manner keep:
Dare itself to interpose ;
Heaven to clear, when day did close; Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess excellently bright. Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal-shining quiver; Give unto the flying heart
Space to breathe, how short soever: Thou that makest a day of night, Goddess excellently bright.
FROM THE SILENT WOMAN.
STILL to be neat, still to be dress’d,