The Home Book of Verse, vol 2 | Page 5

the sky, Are his trophies reared high.
Wings he hath, which though ye clip, He will leap from lip to lip, Over
liver, lights, and heart, But not stay in any part; But if chance his arrow
misses, He will shoot himself in kisses.
He doth bear a golden bow, And a quiver, hanging low, Full of arrows,
that outbrave Dian's shafts; where, if he have Any head more sharp
than other, With that first he strikes his mother.
Still the fairest are his fuel. When his days are to be cruel, Lovers'
hearts are all his food, And his baths their warmest blood: Naught but
wounds his hands doth season, And he hates none like to Reason.
Trust him not; his words, though sweet, Seldom with his heart do meet.
All his practice is deceit; Every gift it is a bait; Not a kiss but poison
bears; And most treason in his tears.
Idle minutes are his reign; Then, the straggler makes his gain By
presenting maids with toys, And would have ye think them joys: 'Tis
the ambition of the elf To have all childish as himself.
If by these ye please to know him, Beauties, be not nice, but show him.
Though ye had a will to hide him, Now, we hope, ye'll not abide him;
Since you hear his falser play, And that he's Venus' runaway.
Ben Jonson [1573?-1637]
WHAT IS LOVE? From "The Captain"
Tell me, dearest, what is love? 'Tis a lightning from above; 'Tis an
arrow, 'tis a fire, 'Tis a boy they call Desire. 'Tis a grave, Gapes to have
Those poor fools that long to prove.
Tell me more, are women true? Yes, some are, and some as you. Some

are willing, some are strange, Since you men first taught to change.
And till troth Be in both, All shall love, to love anew.
Tell me more yet, can they grieve? Yes, and sicken sore, but live, And
be wise, and delay, When you men are wise as they. Then I see, Faith
will be Never till they both believe.
John Fletcher [1579-1625]
LOVE'S EMBLEMS From "Valentinian"
Now the lusty spring is seen; Golden yellow, gaudy blue, Daintily
invite the view: Everywhere on every green Roses blushing as they
blow, And enticing men to pull, Lilies whiter than the snow,
Woodbines of sweet honey full: All love's emblems, and all cry,
"Ladies, if not plucked, we die."
Yet the lusty spring hath stayed; Blushing red and purest white Daintily
to love invite Every woman, every maid: Cherries kissing as they grow,
And inviting men to taste, Apples even ripe below, Winding gently to
the waist: All love's emblems, and all cry, "Ladies, if not plucked, we
die."
John Fletcher [1579-1625]
THE POWER OF LOVE From "Valentinian"
Hear, ye ladies that despise What the mighty Love has done; Fear
examples and be wise: Fair Callisto was a nun; Leda, sailing on the
stream To deceive the hopes of man, Love accounting but a dream,
Doted on a silver swan; Danae, in a brazen tower, Where no love was,
loved a shower.
Hear, ye ladies that are coy, What the mighty Love can do; Fear the
fierceness of the boy: The chaste Moon he makes to woo; Vesta,
kindling holy fires, Circled round about with spies, Never dreaming
loose desires, Doting at the altar dies; Ilion, in a short hour, higher He
can build, and once more fire.
John Fletcher [1579-1625]
ADVICE TO A LOVER
The sea hath many thousand sands, The sun hath motes as many; The
sky is full of stars, and Love As full of woes as any: Believe me, that
do know the elf, And make no trial by thyself!
It is in truth a pretty toy For babes to play withal: But O, the honies of
our youth Are oft our age's gall: Self-proof in time will make thee
know He was a prophet told thee so:

A prophet that, Cassandra-like, Tells truth without belief; For
headstrong Youth will run his race, Although his goal be grief: - Love's
Martyr, when his heat is past, Proves Care's Confessor at the last.
Unknown
LOVE'S HOROSCOPE
Love, brave Virtue's younger brother, Erst hath made my heart a
mother, She consults the anxious spheres, To calculate her young son's
years; She asks if sad or saving powers Gave omen to his infant hours;
She asks each star that then stood by If poor Love shall live or die.
Ah, my heart! is that the way? Are these the beams that rule thy day?
Thou know'st a face in whose each look Beauty lays ope Love's
fortune-book, On whose fair revolutions wait The obsequious motions
of Love's fate. Ah, my heart! her eyes and she Have taught thee new
astrology. Howe'er Love's native hours