y,
That where you grew, scarce man can say.

You are a lovely July-flower;
Yet one rude wind, or ruffling shower,
Will force you hence, and in an hour.

You are a sparkling Rose i'th' bud,
Yet lost, ere that chaste flesh and blood
Can show where you or grew or stood.

You are a full-spread fair-set Vine,
And can with tendrils love entwine;
Yet dried, ere you distil your wine.

You are like Balm, enclosed well
In amber, or some crystal shell;
Yet lost ere you transfuse your smell.

You are a dainty Violet;
Yet wither'd, ere you can be set
Within the virgins coronet.

You are the Queen all flowers among;
But die you must, fair maid, ere long,
As he, the maker of this song.

140. TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may:
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles to-day,
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best, which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times, still succeed the former.

--Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

EPIGRAMS

141. POSTING TO PRINTING

Let others to the printing-press run fast;
Since after death comes glory, I'll not haste.

142. HIS LOSS

All has been plunder'd from me but my wit:
Fortune herself can lay no claim to it.

143. THINGS MORTAL STILL MUTABLE

Things are uncertain; and the more we get,
The more on icy pavements we are set.

144. NO MAN WITHOUT MONEY

No man such rare parts hath, that he can swim,
If favour or occasion help not him.

145. THE PRESENT TIME BEST PLEASETH

Praise, they that will, times past: I joy to see
Myself now live; this age best pleaseth me!

146. WANT

Want is a softer wax, that takes thereon,
This, that, and every base impression,

147. SATISFACTION FOR SUFFERINGS

For all our works a recompence is sure;
'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t'endure.

148. WRITING

When words we want, Love teacheth to