SIR JOHN DAVIES

I know my life's a pain and but a span; I know my sense is mock'd in everything; And, to conclude, I know myself a Man Which is a proud and yet a wretched thing.

��SIR ROBERT AYTON

182. To His Forsaken Mistress

I DO confess thou'rt smooth and fair, And I might have gone near to love thee, Had I not found the slightest prayer

That lips could move, had power to move thee; But I can let thee now alone As worthy to be loved by none.

I do confess thou'rt sweet; yet find Thee such an un thrift of thy sweets,

Thy favours are but like the wind That kisseth everything it meets:

And since thou canst with more than one,

Thou'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none.

The morning rose that untouch'd stands

Arm'd with her briers, how sweet she smells !

But pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands, Her sweets no longer with her dwells:

But scent and beauty both are gone,

And leaves fall from her, one by one.

Such fate ere long will thee betide When thou hast handled been awhile,

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