Some vehement oaths it took, yea, and good proofs And pitying her greatly, all the more But naught of outward cherishing could salve And now, my lord, albeit this office I take In sex or in estate, seeing my sex Should rather look to be desir'd, yet, sooth, With that she staid, attending earnestly "Madam, I am infinitely bound to you For not less rare than noble courtesy, And infinitely bound because of that Sweet kindness I perceive you shew'd to her;" (With that the tears ran down his face, but yet He follow'd on, she listening grave,)" and just As much as so unfortunate a man, Fit to be spectacle of misery, Can do you service, here you may be sure That you have made a purchase of a slave Who, while I live, shall never fail you at need. But this great matter you propose to me, Wherein I am not so blind as not to see What happiness 'twould be-O excellent With whose good beauty only had I been "And must I bear disgrace to be refus'd?" Far above my desert: I but refuse I could or can desire, I am refus'd." But scarcely had he said these words than she Ran unto him and fell upon his neck; 'Why, then, take thy Parthenia, Argalus !" And there she stood, Parthenia's very self. Then, seeing grief forbade him to believe, Moaning aloud in solitary place, Helen, the Queen of Corinth, passing by, Till she had heard the whole of her discourse; A skill'd physician of her own, in hope That he could help her; which he well perform'd In that same sort they saw. Then she, with her Taking of the queen's servants, thought to make This trial, whether Argalus would yet Quickly forget his true Parthenia or no. And Helen's servants well confirm'd her speech, TO ANNIE. SPRINGTIME, Love! how short a time it seems since the snow and frost, And the mist thick-falling over the hills and the daylight early lost; The strong keen wind and the short-liv'd sun and the cosy household blaze, And you, bright-fac'd and sober-gown'd, all pleasant and sweet to my gaze, With your gracious wisdom calm beneath your pretty childly ways. Ay, it was just a month, a month, I lost the count of, Dear; That's how the beautiful summer-time has suddenly come so near; It seems as it were but yesterday the doctor stood close by With the face so grave it needed not to tell me that I must die : |