THOMAS RANDOLPH

2pp. A Ttevout Lover

T HAVE a mistress, for perfections rare

• In every eye, but in my thoughts most fair.

Like tapers on the altar shine her eyes ; Her breath is the perfume of sacrifice ; And wheresoever my fancy would begin, Still her perfection lets religion in. We sit and talk, and kiss away the hours As chastely as the morning dews kiss flowers : I touch her, like my beads, with devout care, And come unto my courtship as my prayer.

��300. An Ode to Master Anthony Stafford

to hasten Him into the Country

��spur away,

I have no patience for a longer stay, But must go down

And leave the chargeable noise of this great town : I will the country see, Where old simplicity, Though hid in gray, Doth look more gay Than foppery in plush and scarlet clad. Farewell, you city wits, that are

Almost at civil war

'Tis time that I grow wise, when all the world grows mad.

�� �