JOHN FLETCHER
If men were wise to see 't,
But only melancholy
O sweetest melancholy' Welcome, folded arms and fixed eyes, A sight that piercing mortifies, A look that 's fasten'd to the ground, A tongue chain J d up without a sound!
Fountain-heads and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves! Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed, save bats and owls' A midnight bell, a parting groan These are the sounds we feed upon* Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley, Nothing 's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy
��wi
��224 Weep no more
rEEP no more, nor sigh, nor groan, Sorrow calls no time that 's gone: Violets pluck'd, the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again. Trim thy locks, look cheerfully; Fate's hid ends eyes cannot see. Joys as winged dreams fly fast, Why should sadness longer last? Grief is but a wound to woe ; Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no moe.
�� �
