A wearied pilgrim, I have wandered here Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but one year; Long I have lasted in this world, 'tis true, But yet those years that I have lived, but few. Who by his grey hairs doth his lusters tell, Lives not those years, but he that lives them well. One man has reach'd his sixty years, but he Of all those threescore, has not liv'd half three. _He lives, who lives to virtue; men who cast Their ends for pleasure, do not live, but last._ _Luster_, five years. 1089. TO M. LAURENCE SWETNAHAM. Read thou my lines, my Swetnaham; if there be A fault, 'tis hid if it be voic'd by thee. Thy mouth will make the sourest numbers please: How will it drop pure honey speaking these! 1090. HIS COVENANT; OR, PROTESTATION TO JULIA. Why dost thou wound and break my heart, As if we should for ever part? Hast thou not heard an oath from me, After a day, or two, or three, I would come back and live with thee? Take, if thou dost distrust that vow, This second protestation now. Upon thy cheek that spangled tear, Which sits as dew of roses there, That tear shall scarce be dried before I'll kiss the threshold of thy door. Then weep not, sweet; but thus much know, I'm half return'd before I go. 1091. ON HIMSELF. I will no longer kiss, I can no longer stay; The way of all flesh is That I must go this day. Since longer I can't live, My frolic youths, adieu; My lamp to you I'll give, And all my troubles too. 1092. TO THE MOST ACCOMPLISHED GENTLEMAN, M. MICHAEL OULSWORTH. Nor think that thou in this my book art worst, Because not plac'd here with the midst, or first. Since fame that sides with these, or goes before Those, that must live with thee for evermore; That fame, and fame's rear'd pillar, thou shalt see In the next sheet, brave man, to follow thee. Fix on that column then, and never fall, Held up by Fame's eternal pedestal. _In the next sheet._ See 1129. 1093. TO HIS GIRLS, WHO WOULD HAVE HIM SPORTFUL. Alas! I can't, for tell me, how Can I be gamesome, aged now? Besides, ye see me daily grow Here, winter-like, to frost and snow; And I, ere long, my girls, shall see Ye quake for cold to look on me. 1094. TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD. _Truth by her own simplicity is known, Falsehood by varnish and vermilion._ 1095. HIS LAST REQUEST TO JULIA. I have been wanton and too bold, I fear, To chafe o'ermuch the virgin's cheek or ear. Beg for my pardon, Julia: _he doth win Grace with the gods who's sorry for his sin_. That done, my Julia, dearest Julia, come And go with me to choose my burial room: My fates are ended; when thy Herrick dies, Clasp thou his book, then close thou up his eyes. 1096. ON HIMSELF.