season,
I received nor rhyme nor reason.

* * * * *

_Hymn in Honor of Beauty_. Line 132.
For of the soul the body form doth take,
For soul is form, and doth the Body make.

* * * * *

MOTHER HUBBERD'S TALE.

Full little knowest thou that hast not tride,
What hell it is in suing long to bide;
To loose good dayes, that might be better spent
To wast long nights in pensive discontent;
To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow;
To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow;

* * * * *

To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares;
To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires;
To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne,
To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne.

SIR HENRY WOTTON.
1568-1639.

_The Character of a Happy Life_.

How happy is he born and taught,
That serveth not another's will;
Whose armor is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill!

* * * * *

Lord of himself, though not of lands;
And having nothing, yet hath all.

* * * * *

_To his Mistress, the Queen of Bohemia_.

You meaner beauties of the night,
That poorly satisfy our eyes
More by your number than your light!

* * * * *

DR. JOHN DONNE.
1573-1631.

FUNERAL ELEGIES, ON THE PROGRESS OF THE SOUL.

_The Second Anniversary_. Line 245.

We understood
Her by her sight; her pure and eloquent blood
Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought,
That one might almost say her body thought.

* * * * *

_Elegy_ 8. _The Comparison_.

She and comparisons are odious.

BEN JONSON.
1571-1637.

_To Celia_.

(From "The Forest.")
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.

* * * * *

_The Sweet Neglect_. (From the "Silent Woman." Act i. Sc. 5.)

Still to be neat, still to be drest
As you were going to a feast.

* * * * *

Give me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace.

* * * * *

_Good Life_, _Long Life_.

In small proportion we just beauties see,
And in short measures life may perfect be.

* * * * *

_Epitaph on