Page:Hesperides Vol 1.djvu/147

 Which, though sweet unto your smell, Yet the fretful briar will tell, He who plucks the sweets shall prove Many thorns to be in love.

Gold I've none, for use or show, Neither silver to bestow At my death; but this much know; That each lyric here shall be Of my love a legacy, Left to all posterity. Gentle friends, then do but please To accept such coins as these As my last remembrances.

Hence, hence, profane! soft silence let us have While we this trental sing about thy grave.

Had wolves or tigers seen but thee, They would have showed civility; And, in compassion of thy years, Washed those thy purple wounds with tears. But since thou'rt slain, and in thy fall The drooping kingdom suffers all;