220.

��JOHN WEBSTER

And the foul fiend more to check A crucifix let bless your neck : 'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day; End your groan and come away.

��A LL the flowers of the spring

• Meet to perfume our burying ;

These have but their growing prime, And man does flourish but his time : Survey our progress from our birth We are set, we grow, we turn to earth. Courts adieu, and all delights, All bewitching appetites ! Sweetest breath and clearest eye Like perfumes go out and die; And consequently this is done As shadows wait upon the sun. Vain the ambition of kings Who seek by trophies and dead things To leave a living name behind, And weave but nets to catch the wind.

��WILLIAM ALEXANDER, EARL OF STIRLING

221. Aurora

O HAPPY Tithon ! if thou know'st thy hap, And valuest thy wealth, as I my want, Then need'st thou not which ah ! I grieve to grant Repine at Jove, lull'd in his leman's lap:

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