Small poems of Divers sorts | ||
The tenth Song.
[Curle every hair, smile with your eyes]
1
Curle every hair, smile with your eyes,And enchant
Any Saint
With the rare musick of your voice:
Show your breast,
Or your best,
Me you no way have to entice.
2
Dance to sweet numbers, to excel,Being so quick,
'Rithmetick;
And so most evenly, and so well,
262
May not number
Those soft steps your feet do tell.
3
Take your sweet Lute (which is the spiritOf musick)
And use it
Unto your highest praise of merit:
Though each sound
My ears wound,
My heart nereless shall freely bear it.
4
Were all your clothes so rich and fine,As you were
In her sphere
Bright Citheræa to out-shine;
Yet they shoo'd
Not my blood
Warm like unto a glass of wine.
5
In hope to conquer at first sight,To each part
Add all art:
And to provoke an appetite,
To your will
Joyn your skill;
Yet all your magick I shall slight.
263
6
Let you and I together goIn the spring,
When birds sing;
And I'le swear to talk, not wooe:
Or when heat
Makes us get
Into an Arbour, I'le do so.
7
I cannot be a thrall to herWho I know
Heart doth ow
To another, and him prefer;
If my suit
Miss the fruit,
I the tree can well abhor.
8
Yet (Lady) witness all we see,Tis not I
That deny,
Nor is it you that disagree:
Honour so
Slight you do,
That I in love can never be.
Small poems of Divers sorts | ||