Her bared bosome she doth broad display. 
Lo! see soone after, how she fades and falls away ! 
“ So passeth, in the passing of a day 
Of mortall life, the leafe, the bud, the flowre; 
Ne more doth florish after fii’st decay. 
That earth was sought to deck both bed and bowre 
Of many a lady and many a paramoure. 
Gather therefore the rose wildest yet is prime. 
For soone comes age, that will her pride deflowre: 
Gather the rose of love wildest yet is time. 
Whitest loving thou mayst loved be with equal crime.” 
Well does the excelling beauty and exquisite perfume of 
this praised flower merit our admiration. We may say, with 
the Poets, Beaumont and Fletcher— 
Nature picked several flowers from her choice banks. 
And bound them up in thee — sending thee forth 
A posy for the bosom of a queen. 
In lire garden scene already quoted from, in the “ Two 
Noble Kinsmen,” is this exceedingly poetic and graceful 
passage ; it has few equals. 
Emilia. Of all flowers 
Methinks a Rose is best. 
Servant. Why, gentle Madam ? 
Emilia. It is the very emblem of a maid; 
For when the west wind courts her gently. 
How modestly she blows, and paints the sun 
With her chaste blushes ! When the north comes 
near her. 
