L

3.

Can Gold, alas, with Thee compare?
The Sun, that makes it 's not so fair;
The Sun which can nor make, nor ever see
A thing so beautiful as Thee,

In all the journeys he does pass,
Though the Sea serv'ed him for a Looking-glass.

4.

Bold was the wretch that cheapned Thee,
Since Magus, none so bold as he:
Thou'rt so divine a thing that Thee to buy,
Is to be counted Simony;

Too dear he'l find his sordid price,
H'as forfeited that, and the Benefice.

5.

If it be lawful Thee to buy,

There's none can pay that rate but I;
Nothing on earth a fitting price can be,

But what on earth's most like to Thee.
And that my Heart does only bear;
For there Thy self, Thy very self is there.

6.

So much thy self does in me live,
That when it for thy self I give,
'Tis but to change that piece of Gold for this,
Whose stamp and value equal is.

And that full Weight too may be had,
My Soul and Body; two Grains more, I'll add.

The Long Life.

I.

Ove from Times wings hath stoln the feathers sure,

He has, and put them to his own;

For Hours of late as long as Days endure,

And very Minutes, Hours are grown.

2.

The various Motions of the turning Year,
Belong not now at all to Me:

Each Summers Night does Lucies now appear,
Each Winters day St. Barnaby.

3.

How long a space, since first I lov'd, it is?
To look into a glass I fear;

And am surpriz'd with wonder when I miss,
Grey-hairs and wrinkles there.

4.

Th' old Patriarchs age and not their happ'iness too,
Why does hard fate to us restore?
Why does Loves Fire thus to Mankind renew,
What the Flood washt away before?

5.

Sure those are happy people that complain,
O' th' shortness of the days of man:
Contract mine, Heaven, and bring them back again
To th' ordinary Span.

6.

If when your gift, long Life, I disapprove,

I too ingrateful seem to be;

Punish me justly, Heaven; make Her to love,
And then 'twill be too short for me.

Counsel.

I.

Gently, ah gently, Madam, touch

The wound, which you your self have made;

That pain must needs be very much,

Which makes me of your hand afraid.

Cordials of Pity give me now,

For I too weak for Purgings grow.

2.

Do but a while with patience stay;
For Counsel yet will do no good,
'Till Time, and Rest, and Heav'n allay

The violent burnings of my blood,
For what effect from this can flow,
To chide men drunk, for being so?

3.

Perhaps the Physick's good you give,

But ne're to me can useful prove; Med'cines may Cure, but not Revive;

And I'am not Sick, but Dead in Love. In Loves Hell, not his World, am I; At once I Live, am Dead, and Dye.

4.

What new found Rhetorick is thine?

Ev'n thy Diswasions me perswade,
And thy great power does clearest shine,
When thy Commands are disobey'd.
In vain thou bidst me to forbear;
Obedience were Rebellion here.

5.

Thy Tongue comes in, as if it meant

Against thine Eyes t'assist my Heart;

But different far was his intent:

For straight the Traitor took their part.

And by this new foe I'm bereft
Of all that Little which was left.

6.

The act I must confess was wise,
As a dishonest act could be:

Well knew the Tongue (alas) your Eyes

Would be too strong for That, and Me.

And part o'th' Triumph chose to get,
Rather than be a part of it.

Τ
"Tls And

Resolved to be beloved.

I.

Is true, I'have lov'd already three or four,
And shall three or four hundred more;
I'll love each fair one that I see,

Till I find one at last that shall love me.

2.

That shall my Canaan be, the fatal soil,
That ends my wandrings, and my toil.
I'll settle there and happy grow;

The Country does with Milk and Honey flow.

3.

The Needle trembles so, and turns about,
Till it the Northern Point find out:
But constant then and fixt does prove,
Fixt, that his dearest Pole as soon may move.

4.

Then may my Vessel torn and shipwrackt be,
If it put forth again to Sea:

It never more abroad shall rome,

Though't could next voyage bring the Indies home.

5.

But I must sweat in Love, and labour yet,
Till I a Competency get.

They're slothful fools who leave a Trade, Till they a moderate Fortune by't have made.

6.

Variety I ask not; give me One
To live perpetually upon.

The person Love does to us fit,
Like Manna, has the Tast of all in it.

F

The Same.

I.

Or Heavens sake, what d' you mean to do? Keep me, or let me go, one of the two; Youth and warm hours let me not idlely lose, The little Time that Love does choose; If always here I must not stay, Let me be gone, whilst yet 'tis day; Lest I faint, and benighted lose my way.

2.

'Tis dismal, One so long to love

In vain; till to love more as vain must prove :
To hunt so long on nimble prey, till we
Too weary to take others be;

Alas, 'tis folly to remain,

And waste our Army thus in vain, Before a City which will ne're be tane.

3.

At several hopes wisely to fly, Ought not to be esteem'd Inconstancy; "Tis more Inconstant always to pursue,

A thing that always flies from you;
For that at last may meet a bound,
But no end can to this be found,
'Tis nought but a perpetual fruitless Round.

4.

When it does Hardness meet and Pride,
My Love does then rebound t'another side;
But if it ought that's soft and yielding hit;
It lodges there, and stays in it.
Whatever 'tis shall first love me,
That it my Heaven may truly be;
I shall be sure to give't Eternity.