Stay under the kinde shadow of this tree _Castara_, and protect thy selfe and me From the Sunnes rayes. Which shew the grace of Kings, A dangerous warmth with too much favour brings. How happy in this shade the humble Vine Doth 'bout some taller tree her selfe intwine, And so growes fruitefull; teaching us her fate Doth beare more sweetes, though Cedars beare more state: Behold _Adonis_ in yand' purple flowre, T'was _Venus_ love: That dew, the briny showre, His coynesse wept, while strugling yet alive: Now he repents, and gladly would revive, By th' vertue of your chaste and powerfull charmes, To play the modest wanton in your armes. _To_ CASTARA, _Ventring to walke too farre in the neighbouring wood_. Dare not too farre _Castara_, for the shade This courteous thicket yeelds, hath man betray'd A prey to wolves: to the wilde powers oth' wood, Oft travellers pay tribute with their blood. If carelesse of thy selfe of me take care, For like a ship where all the fortunes are Of an advent'rous merchant; I must be, If thou should'st perish banquerout in thee. My feares have mockt me. Tygers when they shall Behold so bright a face, will humbly fall In adoration of thee. Fierce they are To the deform'd, obsequious to the faire. Yet venter not; tis nobler farre to sway The heart of man, than beasts, who man obey. _Upon_ CASTARA'S _departure_. Vowes are vaine. No suppliant breath Stayes the speed of swift-heel'd death. Life with her is gone and I Learne but a new way to dye. See the flowers condole, and all Wither in my funerall. The bright Lilly, as if day, Parted with her, fades away. Violets hang their heads, and lose All their beauty. That the Rose A sad part in sorrow beares, Witnesse all those dewy teares, Which as Pearle, or Dyamond like, Swell upon her blushing cheeke. All things mourne, but oh behold How the wither'd Marigold Closeth up now she is gone, Judging her the setting Sunne. _A Dialogue between_ NIGHT _and_ ARAPHILL. NIGHT. Let silence close my troubled eyes, Thy feare in _Lethe_ steepe: The starres bright cent'nels of the skies, Watch to secure thy sleepe. ARAPH. The Norths unruly spirit lay In the disorder'd Seas: Make the rude Winter calme as _May_, And give a lover ease. NIGHT. Yet why should feare with her pale charmes, Bewitch thee so to griefe? Since it prevents n' insuing harmes, Nor yeelds the past reliefe. ARAPH. And yet such horror I sustaine As the sad vessell, when Rough tempests have incenst the Maine, Her Harbor now in ken.