Volume 1 — OUT OF CATULLUS.[83]

Come and let us live my deare,1 Let us love and never feare, What the sowrest fathers say: Brightest Sol that dyes to day Lives againe as blith to morrow;5 But if we darke sons of sorrow Set: O then how long a Night Shuts the eyes of our short light! Then let amorous kisses dwell On our lips, begin and tell10 A thousand, and a hundred score, An hundred and a thousand more, Till another thousand smother That, and that wipe of[f] another. Thus at last when we have numbred15 Many a thousand, many a hundred, Wee'l confound the reckoning quite, And lose our selves in wild delight: While our joyes so multiply, As shall mocke the envious eye.20