ull as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the Roses,
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly
When summer's breath their masked buds discloses;
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade;
Die to themselves--sweet Roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made.

_Sonnet_ liv.

(48)

Why should poor beauty indirectly seek
Roses of shadow, since his Rose is true?

_Ibid._ lxvii.

(49)

Shame, like a canker in the fragrant Rose,
Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name.

_Ibid._ xcv.

(50)

Nor did I wonder at the Lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion of the Rose.

_Ibid._ xcviii.

(51)

The Roses fearfully in thorns did stand,
One blushing shame, another white despair;
A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both
And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath.

_Ibid._ xcix.

(52)

I have seen Roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such Roses see I in her cheeks.

_Ibid._ cxxx.

(53)

More white and red than dove and Roses are.

_Venus and Adonis_ (10).

(54)

What though the Rose has prickles? yet 'tis plucked.

_Ibid._ (574).

(55)

Who, when he lived, his breath and beauty set
Gloss on the Rose, smell to the Violet.

_Ibid._ (935).

(56)

Their silent war of Lilies and of Roses.

_Lucrece_ (71).

(57)

O how her fear did make her colour rise,
First red as Roses that on lawn we lay,
Then white as lawn, the Roses took away.

_Ibid._ (257).

(58)

That even for anger makes the Lily pale,
And the red Rose blush at her own disgrace.

_Ibid._ (477).

(59)

I know what Thorns the growing Ros