40
If her white neck be shadowed with black hair,
Why so was Leda's, yet was Leda fair.
Amber-tress'd[258] is she? then on the morn think I:
My love alludes to every history:
A young wench pleaseth, and an old is good,
This for her looks, that for her womanhood:
Nay what is she, that any Roman loves,
But my ambitious ranging mind approves?

FOOTNOTES:

[249] "Mendosos ... mores."

[250] "Heu quam, quae studeas ponere, ferre grave est."

[251] So eds. B, C.--Isham copy and ed. A "And."

[252] This is Dyce's certain correction for the old eds. "blush." (The
originals has "uror.")

[253] Then.

[254] Ed. A "those _nimble_ hands."

[255]

"Ut taceam de me, qui causa tangor ab omni,
Illic Hippolytum pone, Priapus erit."

[256] So Isham copy and ed. A.--Eds. B, C "say."

[257] This and the next three lines are omitted in Isham copy and ed. A.

[258] So eds. B, C.--Isham copy and ed. A "yellow trest."

ELEGIA V.[259]

Ad amicam corruptam.

No love is so dear,--quivered Cupid, fly!--
That my chief wish should be so oft to die.
Minding thy fault, with death I wish to revel;
Alas! a wench is a perpetual evil.
No intercepted lines thy deeds display,
No gifts given secretly thy crime bewray.
O would my proofs as vain might be withstood!
Ay me, poor soul, why is my cause so good?
He's happy, that his love dares boldly credit;
To whom his wench can say, "I never did it." 10
He's cruel, and too much his grief doth favour,
That seeks the conquest by her loose behaviour.
Poor wretch,[260] I saw when thou didst think I slumbered;
Not drunk, your faults on the spilt wine I numbered.
I saw your nodding eyebrows much to speak,
Even from your cheeks, part of a voice did break.
Not silent were thine eyes, the board with wine
Was scribbled, and thy fingers writ a line.
I knew your speech (what do not lovers see?)
And words that seemed for certain marks to be. 20
Now many guests were gone, the feast being done,
The youthful sort to divers pastimes run.
I saw you then unlawful kisses join;
(Such with my tongue it likes me to purloin);
None such the sister gives her brother grave,
But such kind wenches let their lovers have.
Phoebus gave not Diana such, 'tis thought,
But Venus often to her Mars such br