MICHAEL DRAYTON

But see how patient I am grown

In all this coil about thee : Come, nice thing, let my heart alone,

I cannot live without thee !

127. The Tart ing

INCE there 's no help, come let us kiss and part- Nay, I have done, you get no more of me ;

And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,

That thus so cleanly I myself can free.

Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,

And when we meet at any time again,

Be it not seen in either of our brows

That we one jot of former love retain.

Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,

When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,

When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,

And Innocence is closing up his eyes,

Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over^ From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.

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��118. Siren a

EAR to the silver Trent

SIREXA dwelleth ; She to whom Nature lent

All that excelleth ; By which the Muses late

And the neat Graces Have for their greater state

Taken their places ; Twisting an anadem

Wherewith to crown her,

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