FLO RA : S DIAL. 49 
ittarct) 31. 
LOVE-LI ES-BLEEDI N G. — Desertion. 
But thou, my lute, be still, now take thy rest, 
Repose thy bones upon this bed of downe ; 
Thou hast discharged some burden from my brest, 
Wherefore take thou my place, here lie thee downe; 
And let me walke to try my restlesse minde, 
Untill I may entreate some curteous winde 
To blow these wordes unto my noble mate, 
- That he may see I sorrow for his sake. 
G A.scoia>E. 1560. 
Qtprii 1. 
COLUMBINE. — Folly. 
Have you seene but a bright lillie grow, 
Before rude hands have touched it ? 
Ha’ you marked but the fall o’ the snow, 
Before the soyle hath smutched it ? 
Or have ye smelt the bud of the brier ? 
Or the nard in the fire ? 
Or have tasted the bag o’ the bee ? 
Oh, so white! Oh, so sweet is she ! Jonson. 
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