Recreation for ingenious head-peeces, or, A pleasant grove for their wits to walk in of epigrams 700, epitaphs 200, fancies a number, fantasticks abundance : with their addition, multiplication, and division.

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Title: Recreation for ingenious head-peeces, or, A pleasant grove for their wits to walk in of epigrams 700, epitaphs 200, fancies a number, fantasticks abundance : with their addition, multiplication, and division.
Author: Mennes, John, Sir, 1599-1671.
Publication: London :: Printed by M. Simmons ...,; 1654.
Rights/Permissions: To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
Subject terms: English wit and humor.; Epigrams.; Epitaphs.
Link to this Item: http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A50616.0001.001
Cite this Item: "Recreation for ingenious head-peeces, or, A pleasant grove for their wits to walk in of epigrams 700, epitaphs 200, fancies a number, fantasticks abundance : with their addition, multiplication, and division." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A50616.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 16, 2024.

Glide gentle streams, and bear
Along with you my tear
To that coy Girle;
Who smiles, yet slayes
Me with delayes;
And strings my tears as Pearle.

See! see she's yonder set,
Making a Carkanet
Of mayden-flowers!
There, there present
This Orient,
And pendant Pearl of ours.

Then say, I've sent one more
Jem, to enrich her store;
And that is all
Which I can send,
Or vainly spend,
For tears no more will fall.

Nor will I seek supply
Of them, the springs once dry;
But I'le devise,

(Among the rest)
A way that's best
How I may save mine eyes.

Yet say, sho'd she condemn
Me to surrender them;
Then say; my part
Must be to weep
Out them; to keep
A poor, yet loving heart.

Say too, she wo'd have this;
She shall: Then my hope is,
That when I'm poore,
And nothing have
To send, or save;
I'm sure she'll ask no more.