JOHN FLETCHER

If men were wise to see't,

But only melancholy

O sweetest melancholy ! Welcome, folded arms and fixed eyes, A sight that piercing mortifies, A look that's fasten'd to the ground, A tongue chain'd up without a sound !

Fountain-heads and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves ! Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed, save bats and owls ! A midnight bell, a parting groan These are the sounds we feed upon : Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley, Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.

��217. Weep no more

VVTEEP no more, nor sigh, nor groan,

• • Sorrow calls no time that's gone:

Violets pluck'd, the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again. Trim thy locks, look cheerfully; Fate's hid ends eyes cannot see. Joys as winged dreams fly fast, Why should sadness longer last ? Grief is but a wound to woe ; Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no moe.

�� �