University of Virginia Library

The Musicall strife;

In a Pastorall Dialogue.

Shee.
Come with our Voyces, let us warre,
And challenge all the Spheares,
Till each of us be made a Starre,
And all the world turne Eares.

Hee.
At such a Call, what beast or fowle,
Of reason emptie is!
What Tree or stone doth want a soule?
What man but must lose his?

Shee.
Mixe then your Notes, that we may prove
To stay the running floods?
To make the Mountaine Quarries move?
And call the walking woods?

Hee.
What need of mee? doe you but sing
Sleepe, and the Grave will wake,
No tunes are sweet, nor words have sting,
But what those lips doe make.

Shee.
They say the Angells marke each Deed,
And exercise below,
And out of inward pleasure feed
On what they viewing know.

Hee.
O sing not you then, lest the best
Of Angels should be driven
To fall againe; at such a feast,
Mistaking earth for heaven.

Shee.
Nay, rather both our soules bee strayn'd
To meet their high desire;
So they in state of Grace retain'd,
May wish us of their Quire.