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Here be tears of perfect moan
ON MAY MORNING.
ow the bright morning star, day's harbinger,
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws
Woods and groves are of thy dressing,
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we falute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and with thee long.
ON SHAKESPEAR. 1630. WHAT needs my Shakespear for his honor'd
15 That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.
XI. On the UNIVERSITY CARRIER ; Who ficken’d in the time of his vacancy, being forbid
to go to London, by reason of the plague. TERE lies old Hobson; Death hath broke his girt,
And here, alas, hath laid him in the dirt, Or else, the ways being foul, twenty to one, He 's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown. 'Twas such a shifter, that if truth were known, 5 Death was half glad when he had got him down; For he had any time this ten years full Dodg’d with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull. And surely death could never have prevaild, Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd; But lately finding him so long at home, And thinking now his journey's end was come, And that he had ta’en up his latest inn, In the kind office of a chamberlin Showd him his room where he must lodge that night, Pullid off his boots, and took away the light: If any ask for him, it shall be faid, Hobson has supt, and 's newly gone to bed.
Another on the same.
That he could never die while he could move;
Made of sphere-metal, never to decay
5 Until his revolution was at stay. Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime 'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time: And, like an engin mov'd with wheel and weight, His principles being ceas'd, he ended strait. Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death, And too niuch breathing put him out of breath; Nor were it contradiction to affirm Too long vacation hasten d on his term. Merely to drive the time away he ficken'd,
15 Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd; Nay, quoth he, on his swooning bed out-stretch'd, If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd, But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers, For one carrier put down to make fix bearers. Ease was his chief disease, and to judge right, He dy'd for heaviness that his cart went light: His leisure told him that his time was come, And lack of load made his life burdensome, That ev'n to his last breath (there be that say't) As he were press’d to death, he cry’d, More weight! But had his doings lasted as they were, He had been an immortal carrier. Obedient to the moon he spent his date In course reciprocal, and had his fate
30 Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas, Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase : His letters are deliver'd all and gone, Qnly remains this superscription.
L'A L L E G R 0.
HENCE, loathed Melancholy.
Of Cerberus and blackeit Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn
'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and fights unholy, Find out some uncouth cell,
5 Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings;
There under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks,
In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
25 Jeft and youthful Jollity,