Why of strange fruits dost boast, O sycamore? Of leaves not thine who gave thee such a store? He who waves to and fro on bough of thine, A cluster soon will be of the True Vine. R. WI. CLXXXIV. _On our crucified Lord naked and bloody._ Th' have left Thee naked, Lord: O that they had! This garment too I would they had deny'd. Thee with Thyselfe they have too richly clad, Opening the purple wardrobe of Thy side. O never could bee found garments too good For Thee to weare, but these of Thine own blood. CLXXXV. _Sampson to his Dalilah._ Could not once blinding me, cruell, suffice? When first I look't on thee, I lost mine eyes. SECULAR EPIGRAMS. I. _Upon Ford's two Tragedyes, 'Love's Sacrifice' and 'The Broken Heart.'_ Thou cheat'st us, Ford; mak'st one seeme two by art: What is Love's Sacrifice but The Broken Heart? II. _Vpon the Faire Ethiopian, sent to a gentlewoman._ Lo here the faire Chariclea, in whom strove So false a fortune and so true a love! Now after all her toyles by sea and land, O may she but arrive at your white hand! Her hopes are crown'd; onely she feares that than Shee shall appeare true Ethiopian. III. _On marriage._ I would be married, but I'de have no wife: I would be married to a single life. IV. _On Nanus mounted upon an ant._ High-mounted on an ant, Nanus the tall Was throwne, alas, and got a deadly fall; Vnder th' unruly beast's proud feet he lies All torne: with much adoe yet ere he dyes Hee straines these words: Base Envy, doe laugh on: Thus did I fall, and thus fell Phaethon. V. _Vpon Venus putting-on Mars his armes._ What, Mars his sword? faire Cytherea, say, Why art thou arm'd so desperately to-day? Mars thou hast beaten naked; and, O then, What needst thou put on armes against poore men? VI. _Vpon the same._ Pallas saw Venus arm'd, and straight she cry'd: Come if thou dar'st; thus, thus let us be try'd. Why, foole! saies Venus, thus provok'st thou mee, That being nak't, thou know'st could conquer thee? VII. _Out of Martiall._ Foure teeth thou hadst, that, ranck'd in goodly state, Kept thy mouth's gate. The first blast of thy cough left two alone; The second, none. This last cough, Delia, cought-out all thy feare; Th' hast left the third cough now no business here. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.