English

Ten Measures for Lysidicë,
One for Euphrantë take;
Let Bacchus in the wine bowl be
Where now our thirst we slake.

And is my love proportioned so
As we the measures pour
That to Euphrantë once I go,
To the other ten times more?

Nay, though Euphrantë be but one,
Ten cannot match her even,
Pale as before their monarch moon
The countless hosts of heaven.

Once I did cry and cry again,
Beware to vex a tender swain,
Tempt not the anger of my muse,
Nor hate instead of kisses choose.
I know, fair charmer, how to love;
On those that bite my teeth I prove.
I warned you, but you would not hear:
Deaf as the waves your heedless ear.
So now I sit on Naias' knee;
You weep in lonely misery.

Come, ye learned men who spy
Into heaven's mystery.
Nelly can a heaven show
Fairer than the one you know,
Where within a Zodiac ring
All the signs lie clustering.

Naughty girls, you roam the town
Swaying as you walk,
Decked in loose transparent gown
Just to make us talk.
For you know that such a dress
Scarce conceals your nakedness.

If we men should go about
Clad in filmy lace,
Would not all the matrons shout
" O what a disgrace."
Well, we will: and you will see
Men have, too, their coquetry.

Though my love may slender be,
She is plump enough for me.
When I lie upon her heart
Nothing keeps us then apart.

Though cupid come against me in his might,
My heart is steeled by wisdom for the fight,
And matched alone in combat against Love,
Methinks a doughty champion I'll prove.
But when he has Dan Bacchus on his side,
Against two gods how can one man abide?

You're proud, my beauty! If I say " Good-day"
You lift your brows in scorn and fling away;
While if I hang a garland at your door
With angry foot you stamp it to the floor.
Ah, time alone such temper can assuage;
Come quick, ye Wrinkles, quick, remorseless Age.

Come help me, kind Phaebus; for though you are master
Of all the bow's art,
You found to your cost Cupid's arrows fly faster:
They pierced to your heart.

Behold me here an apple red,
Thrown by a lover in your bed.
So give your favours while you may,
For you and I must soon decay.

See, 'tis an apple I throw you,
Your heart to prove,
Token of all that I vow you,
If you will love;
Take it, my sweetest, and bring to my arms
All the fresh fragrance of maiden-hood's charms.

But if you mean to deny me —
Heaven forfend —
Think ere with " No" you reply me
Of beauty's end;
Look at this apple and see how its bloom
Swiftly will fade and to rottenness come.