Of late struck one, and now I see the prime Of day break from the pregnant east: 'tis time I vanish; more I had to say, But night determines here, away. _Purfling_, trimming, embroidering. _Round_, rustic dance. _Comply_, encircle. _Their Evadne_, the sister of Melantius in their play "The Maid's Tragedy". 576. LIFE IS THE BODY'S LIGHT. Life is the body's light, which once declining, Those crimson clouds i' th' cheek and lips leave shining. Those counter-changed tabbies in the air (The sun once set) all of one colour are. So, when Death comes, fresh tinctures lose their place, And dismal darkness then doth smutch the face. _Tabbies_, shot silks. 579. LOVE LIGHTLY PLEASED. Let fair or foul my mistress be, Or low, or tall, she pleaseth me; Or let her walk, or stand, or sit, The posture hers, I'm pleas'd with it; Or let her tongue be still, or stir, Graceful is every thing from her; Or let her grant, or else deny, _My love will fit each history_. 580. THE PRIMROSE. Ask me why I send you here This sweet Infanta of the year? Ask me why I send to you This primrose, thus bepearl'd with dew? I will whisper to your ears: The sweets of love are mix'd with tears. Ask me why this flower does show So yellow-green, and sickly too? Ask me why the stalk is weak And bending (yet it doth not break)? I will answer: These discover What fainting hopes are in a lover. 581. THE TITHE. TO THE BRIDE. If nine times you your bridegroom kiss, The tenth you know the parson's is. Pay then your tithe, and doing thus, Prove in your bride-bed numerous. If children you have ten, Sir John Won't for his tenth part ask you one. _Sir John_, the parson. 582. A FROLIC. Bring me my rosebuds, drawer, come; So, while I thus sit crown'd, I'll drink the aged Cæcubum, Until the roof turn round. _Drawer_, waiter. _Cæcubum_, Cæcuban, an old Roman wine. 583. CHANGE COMMON TO ALL. All things subjected are to fate; Whom this morn sees most fortunate, The evening sees in poor estate. 584. TO JULIA. The saints'-bell calls, and, Julia, I must read The proper lessons for the saints now dead: To grace which service, Julia, there shall be One holy collect said or sung for thee. Dead when thou art, dear Julia, thou shalt have A trentall sung by virgins o'er thy grave: Meantime we two will sing the dirge of these, Who dead, deserve our best remembrances. _Trentall_, a service for the dead. 585. NO LUCK IN LOVE. I do love I know not what, Sometimes this and sometimes that; All conditions I aim at. But, as luckless, I have yet Many shrewd disasters met To gain her whom I would get. Therefore now I'll love no more As I've doted heretofore: He who must be, shall be poor.