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To consult, if fucus this

Be as good as was the last:
All your sweet of life is past,
Make accompt, unless you can,
And that quickly, speak your man.


Of your trouble, Ben, to ease me,
I will tell what man would please me.
I would have him, if I could,

Noble, or of greater blood;
Titles, I confess, do take me,
And a woman God did make me;
French to boot, at least in fashion,
And his manners of that nation.

Young I'd have him too, and fair,
Yet a man; with crisped hair,
Cast in thousand snares and rings,

6 That is, to try.

7 Border, or fringe; also a twist of gold or silver. In other senses, it means an eddy or circle made by the motion of a fluid. Here the signification apparently is a twist or twists of wire introduced into the hair to keep it in form. — B. 8 Paint for the complexion; in general use among ladies.

"This same fucus

Was well laid on.”—Sejanus, II. 1.

"With all his waters, powders, fucuses,

To make thy lovely corps sophisticate."
BEAUMONT and FLETCHER, Woman Hater, III. 3. —

- B.

For Love's fingers and his wings,
Chestnut color, or more slack
Gold upon a ground of black;
Venus and Minerva's eyes,

For he must look wanton-wise.
Eyebrows bent like Cupid's bow,
Front, an ample field of snow;
Even nose, and cheek, withal,
Smooth as is the billiard ball;
Chin as woolly as the peach;
And his lip should kissing teach,
Till he cherished too much beard,
And make Love or me afeard.

He would have a hand as soft
As the down, and show it oft;
Skin as smooth as any rush,
And so thin to see a blush
Rising through it, ere it came;
All his blood should be a flame
Quickly fired, as in beginners

In Love's school, and yet no sinners. 'Twere too long to speak of all:

What we harmony do call,

In a body, should be there;

Well he should his clothes, too, wear,

Yet no tailor help to make him;

Dressed, you still for man should take him,

And not think he'd eat a stake,

Or were set up in a brake.

The exact sense in which the word "brake" is here used


Valiant he should be as fire,

Showing danger more than ire;
Bounteous as the clouds to earth,
And as honest as his birth;
All his actions to be such,

As to do no thing too much;
Nor o'erpraise, nor yet condemn,
Nor outvalue, nor contemn;

Nor do wrongs, nor wrongs receive;
Nor tie knots, nor knots unweave;
And from baseness to be free,
As he durst love truth and me.

Such a man, with every part,
I could give my very heart;
But of one, if short he came,
I can rest me where I am.



For his mind I do not care,

That's a toy that I could spare :

Let his title be but great,

His clothes rich, and band sit neat,

cannot be easily determined, although the general meaning of the passage is sufficiently obvious. Independently of its popular acceptation, as a thicket of bushes, it was employed in several other senses such as an engine of torture, an instrument for dressing flax, a snaffle for horses, and a wooden frame to restrain the legs of vicious horses while they were being shod. The context will bear either of the last two meanings.


Himself young, and face be good,

All I wish is understood.

What you please, you parts may call,
'Tis one good part I'd lie withal.



She. Come, with our voices, let us war,
And challenge all the spheres,

Till each of us be made a star,
And all the world turn ears.

He. At such a call, what beast or fowl
Of reason empty is?

What tree or stone doth want a soul?
What man but must lose his?

She. Mix then your notes, that we may prove
To stay the running floods,

To make the mountain quarries move,
And call the walking woods.

He. What need of me? do you but sing,
Sleep and the grave will wake;

No tunes are sweet, nor words have sting,
But what those lips do make!

She. They say the angels mark each deed.
And exercise below,

And out of inward pleasure feed

On what they viewing know.

He. O sing not you then, lest the best
Of angels should be driven

To fall again; at such a feast,
Mistaking earth for heaven.

She. Nay, rather both our souls be strained
To meet their high desire;
So they, in state of grace retained,
May wish us of their quire.s


O do not wanton with those eyes,
Lest I be sick with seeing;

Nor cast them down, but let them rise,
Lest shame destroy their being.

O be not angry with those fires,

For then their threats will kill me;
Nor look too kind on my desires,
For then my hopes will spill me.

O do not steep them in thy tears,
For so will sorrow slay me;
Nor spread them as distract with fears;
Mine own enough betray me.



Men, if you love us, play no more

The fools or tyrants with your friends,

To make us still sing o'er and o'er

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