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Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,..
Attending on his golden pilgrimage.

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But when from high-moft pitch, with weary care,.
Like feeble age he reeleth from the day;
The eyes ('fore duteous) now converted are
From his low track, and look another way.
So thou, thyfelf out-going in thy noon,
Unlook'd on dieft, unlefs thou get a fon.

Magazine of Beauty.

Unthrifty loveliness, why doft thou spend
Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy?
Nature's bequeft gives nothing, but doth lend,
And being frank, fhe lends to thofe are free.
Then, beauteous niggard, why doft thou abuse
The bounteous largefs given thee to give?
Profitless ufurer, why doft thou use

So great a fum of fums, yet can'st not live?
For having traffick with thyfelf alone,
Thou of thyself thy sweet self doft deceive;
Then how when nature calls thee to be gone,
What acceptable audit can'ft thou leave?

Thy unus'd beauty must be tomb'd with thee,
Which used lives th' executor to be.

Thofe hours, that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze, where every eye doth dwell,
Will play the tyrants to the very fame,
And that unfair, which fairly doth excel.
For never-refting time leads fummer on
To hideous winter, and confounds him there;
Sap check'd with froft, and lufty leaves quite gone;
Beauty o'er-fnow'd, and barrennefs every where..

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Then were not fummer's diftillation left
A liquid prifoner, pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it nor no remembrance what it was.

But flowers diftill'd, tho' they with winter meet,
Lofe but their fhow, their substance still lives fweet.

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface.
In thee thy fummer, ere thou be distill'd,
Make sweet fome vial, treasure thou fome place
With beauty's treasure, e'er it be felf-kill'd:
That ufe is not forbidden ufury,

Which happies thofe that pay the willing loan;
That's for thyfelf to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one:
Ten times thyfelf were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee;

Then what could death do, if thou fhould'ft depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?

Be not felf-will'd, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conqueft, and make worms thine heir.

An Invitation to Marriage.

Mufick to hear, why hear'ft thou mufick fadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:
Why lov'ft thou that, which thou receiv'ft not gladly?
Or elfe receiv'ft with pleasure thine annoy?

If the true concord of well-tuned founds,
By unions married do offend thy ear,

They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
In fingleness the parts that thou should'st bear.
Mark how one ftring, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;

Refembling fire and child, and happy mother,
Who all in one, one pleafing note do fing:

Whose speechlefs fong, being many, feeming one, Sings this to thee, thou fingle wilt prove none.

Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye,'
That thou confum'ft thyfelf in fingle life?
Ah! if thou iffue-lefs fhalt hap to die,

The world will wail thee like a makeless wife:
The world will be thy widow, and ftill weep,
That thou no form of thee haft left behind ;.
When every private widow well may keep,
By childrens eyes, her husband's fhape in mind:
Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend,
Shifts but his place, for ftill the world enjoys it:
But beauty's wafte hath in the world an end,
And kept unus'd, the us'rer so destroys it.

No love towards others in that bofom fits,
That on himself fuch murd'rous fhame commits.

For fhame! deny, that thou bear'ft love to any,
Who for thyfelf art fo unprovident ;
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art belov'd of many,
But that thou none lov'ft, is most evident:
For thou art fo poffefs'd with murd'rous hate,
That 'gainft thyself thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate,
Which to repair, should be thy chief defire.
O change thy thought, that I may change my mind!
Shall hate be fairer lodg'd than gentle love?
Be, as thy prefence is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyfelf, at least, kind-hearted prove :
Make thee another felf, for love of me,
That beauty ftill may live in thine or thee,

As faft as thou fhalt wane, fo faft thou grow'st
In one of thine, from that which thou departeft; 1
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'it,
Thou may'ft call thine, when thou from youth con-
Herein lives wifdom, beauty, and increase; [verteft.
Without this, folly, age, and cold decay;

If all were minded fo, the times fhould ceafe, w ni
And threefcore years would make the world away.A
Let those whom nature hath not made for ftore, c
Harfh, featurelefs, and rude, barrenly perifh:
Look whom fhe best endow'd, fhe gave the more;
Which bounteous gift thou should'ft in bounty cherish:
She carv'd thee for her feal, and meant thereby
Thou fhould'ft print more, nor let that copy die.

When I do count the clock, that tells the time, I
And fee the brave day funk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,

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And fable curls are filver'd o'er with white;

When lofty trees I fee barren of leaves,

Which erft from heat did canopy the herd,qas T
And fummer's green all girded up in fheaves, LLA
Borne on the bier, with white and briftly beard goW
Then of thy beauty do I queftion make,
That thou among the waftes of time muft go, Dogled
Since fweets and beauties do themselves forfake,?
And die as fast as they fee others grow;

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And nothing'gainst time's fcithe can make defence, Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence,

Falfe Belief.

When my love fwears that fhe is made of truth,
I do believe her (tho' I know fhe lyes).-

That the might think me fome untutor'd youth,i>A Unfkilful in the world's falfe forgeries

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to sto m Thus vainly thinking, that the thinks me young, A Altho I know my years be past the best; Lodo I fmiling, credit her falfe fpeaking tongue, 919H Out-facing faults in love, with love's ill reft.qu*f7 But wherefore fays my love, that he is young? I And wherefore fay not I, that I ameold 20

O love's best habit is a smoothing tongue,
And age (in love) loves not to have years told.
Therefore I'll lye with love, and love with me,
Since that our faults in love thus fmother'd be.

A Temptation.

Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
That like two fpirits do suggest me still:
My better angel is a man (right fair)
My worfer spirit a woman (colour'd ill.)
To win me foon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my fide,
And would corrupt my faint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her fair pride.
And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend,
Sufpect I may, yet not directly tell;
For being both to me, both to each friend,

I guess one angel in another's hell.

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The truth I fhall not know, but live in doubt,

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'Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

Faft and Loofe..

Did not the heavenly rhetorick of thine eye,

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'Gainft whom the world could not hold argument, ob 1

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