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But natures of the noblest frame
These toils and dangers please, And they take comfort in the same
As much as you in ease ; And with the thought of actions past
Are recreated still : When pleasure leaves a touch at last
To show that it was ill.
That's out of custom bred,
Than ever nature did.
Our sports are without blood,
Receives more hurt than good.
These motions of unrest :
Seem born to turn them best. To purge the mischiefs that increase,
And all good order mar,
For oft we see a wicked peace
To be well changed for war.
Well, well, Ulysses, then I see,
I shall not have thee here :
And take my fortune there.
Yet lost were I not won,
To undo, or be undone.
"OME live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
Where we will sit on rising rocks,
Pleased will I make thee beds of roses,
A jaunty gown of finest wool,
A belt of straw, and ivy buds,
THE SHEPHERD'S SONG.
HILE that the sun with his beams hot
Scorched the fruits in vale and mountain, Philon the shepherd, late forgot, Sitting beside a crystal fountain,
In shadow of a green oak tree
Upon his pipe this song played he: Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love, Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love ; Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
So long as I was in your sight
I was your heart, your soul, and treasure ; And evermore you sobbed and sighed Burning in flames beyond all measure :
Three days endured your love to me,
And it was lost in other three !
Another shepherd you did see
To whom your heart was soon enchained ;