Poro' your friends, that doat and domineer;

Lovers are better friends than they :
Let's thofe in other things obey;

The Fates, and Stars, and Gods, muft govern here.
Vain names of blood! in love let none
Advife with any blood, but with their own.

"Tis that which bids me this bright maid adore;
No other thought has had accefs!
Did he now beg, I'd love no lefs,
And, were the an emprefs, I fhould love no more;
Were the as juft and true to me,
Ah, fimple foul! what would become of thee?

Of bleffing thee;

If things then from their, end we happy call,
Tis Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.

Hope thou bold taster of delight, Who, whilft thou should't but taite, devour'st it quite:

Thou bring'ft us an eftate, yet leav'ft us poor, By clogging it with legacies before!

The joys which we entire fhould wed, Come deflower'd virgins to our bed; Good fortunes without gain imported be,

Such mighty cultom's paid to thee.

For joy, like wine, kept clofe does better taste; If it take air before, its fpirits wafte.

Hope! Fortune's cheating lottery!
Where for one prize an hundred blanks there be;
Fond archer, Hope! who tak'st thy aim fo far,
That ftill or fhort or wide thine arrows are!

Thin, empty cloud, which th' eye deceives
With shapes that our own fancy gives!

A cloud, which gilt and painted now appears,
But must drop presently in tears!
When thy falfe beams o'er Reafon's light prevail,
By Ignes Fatui for North-ftars we fail.

Brother of Fear, more gayly clad!
The merrier fool o' th' two, yet quite as mad:
Sire of Repentance! child of fond Defire!
That blow'ft the chemics', and the lover's, fire,
Leading them ftill infenfibly' on

By the ftrange witchcraft of " anon!" By thee the one does changing Nature, through Her endless labyrinths, purfue;

And th' other chaces Woman, whilst she goes More ways and turns than hunted Nature knows.

Thou captive's freedom, and thou fick man's health!

Thou lofer's victory, and thou beggar's wealth!
Thou manna, which from heaven we eat,
To every taste a feveral meat!

Thou ftrong retreat! thou fure-entail'd estate,
Which nought has power to alienate!
Thou pleasant, honeft flatterer! for none
Flatter unhappy men, but thou alone!

Hope! thou first-fruits of happiness!
Thou gentle dawning of a bright success!
Thou good preparative, without which our joy
Does work too ftrong, and, whilft it cures, destroy!
Who out of Fortune's reach doth stand,
And art a bleffing still in hand!
Whilft thee, her earnett-money, we retain,
We certain are to gain,

Whether the 'her bargain break, or else fulfil;
Thou only good, not worse for ending ill!

Brother of Faith! 'twixt whom and thee
The joys of heaven and earth divided be!
Though Faith be heir, and have the fixt estate,
Thy portion yet in moveables is great.
Happiness itfelf's all one
In thee, or in poffeffion!
Only the future 's thine, the present his!

Thine's the more hard and noble bliss:
Beft apprehender of our joys! which haft
So long a reach, and yet canft hold so fast!

Hope! thou fad lovers' only friend! Thou Way, that may'st dispute it with the End! For Love, I fear, 's a fruit that does delight The taste itself lefs than the fmell and fight.

Fruition more deceitful is

Than thou canft be, when thou doft mifs; Men leave thee by obtaining, and strait flee Some other way again to thee;

And that's a pleasant country, without doubt, To which all foon return that travel out.

I

LOVE'S INGRATITUDE.

LITTLE thought, thou fond ingrateful fin!
When first I let thee in,

And gave thee but a part

In my unwary heart,

That thou would'ft e'er have grown

So falfe or strong to make it all thine own.

At mine own breaft with care I fed thee still,
Letting thee fuck thy fill;
And daintily I nourish'd thee
With idle thoughts and poetry!
What ill returns doft thou allow!-

I fed thee then, and thou doft starve me now. There was a time when thou waft cold and chill,

Nor hadft the power of doing ill;

KNOW 'tis fordid, and 'tis low
(All this as well as you I know)
Which I fo hotly now purfue
(I know all this as well as you);
But, whilst this curfed flefh I bear,

And all the weaknefs and the bafeness there,
Alas! alas! it will be always fo.

In vain, exceedingly in vain,

I rage fometimes, and bite my chain;
Yet to what purpose do I bite

With teeth which ne'er will break it quite?
For, if the chiefeft Chriftian Head

Was by this sturdy tyrant buffeted,

What wonder is it if weak I be fiain?

COLDNESS.

S water fluid is till it do grow

A Solid and fixt by cold;

So in warm feafons Love does loosely flow;
Frost only can it hold:

A woman's rigour and difdain
Does his fwift courfe reftrain.

Though conftant and confiftent now it be,
Yet, when kind beams appear,

It melts, and glides apace into the fea,
And lofes itself there.

So the fun's amorous play
Kiffes the ice away,

You may in vulgar loves find always this; But my fubftantial love

Of a more firm and perfect nature is;

No weathers can it move:

Though heat diffolve the ice again,
The crystal folid does remain.

ENJOYMENT.

and like thereabout it, 1;
HEN like fome wealthy island thou shalt lie,

Thou, like fair Albion to the failors' fight,
Spreading her beauteous bofom all in white;

Like the kind Ocean I will be,
With loving arms for ever clafping thee.
But I'll embrace thee gentlier far than fo;
As their fresh banks foft rivers do:
Nor fhall the proudeft planet boast a power
Of making my full love to ebb one hour;
It never dry or low can prove,
Whilst thy unwafted fountain feeds my love.

Such heat and vigour fhall our kiffes bear,
As if like doves we 'engender'd there:
No bound nor rule my pleasures shall endure,
In love there's none too much an Epicure:

Nought fhall my hands or lips control;
I'll kiss thee through, I'll kifs thy very foul.

Yet nothing but the night our fports fhall know;
Night, that 's both blind and filent too!
Alpheus found not a more fecret trace,
His lov'd Sicanian fountain to embrace,

Creeping fo far beneath the fea,
Than I will do t' enjoy and feaft on thee.

Men, out of wisdom; women, out of pride,
The pleasant thefts of love do hide :
That may fecure thee; but thou 'aft yet from me
A more infallible fecurity;

For there's no danger I fhould tell
The joys which are to me unspeakable.

SLEEP.

TN vain, thou drowfy God! I thee invoke ;
For thou, who doft from fumes arife-
Thou, who man's foul doft overfhade
With a thick cloud by vapours made-
Canft have no power to fhut his eyes,
Or paffage of his fpirits to choke,

Whofe flame 's fo pure that it fends up no fmoke.

Yet how do tears but from fome vapours rife ?
Tears, that bewinter all my year?

The fate of Egypt I sustain,

And never feel the dew of rain,

From clouds which in the head appear;

But all my too much moisture owe

To overflowings of the heart below.

Thou, who doft men (as nights to colours do)
Bring all to an equality!

Come, thou juft God! and equal me
Awhile to my difdainful She:

In that condition let me lie,

Till Love docs me the favour fhew a

Love equals all a better way than you.

BEAUTY.

thou wild fantaftic ape,

Ah, my fair star! faid I; Ah, thofe bleft lands to which bright Thou doft fly!

In vain the men of learning comfort me,
And fay I'm in a warm degree;
Say what they pleafe, I fay and swear
'Tis beyond eighty' at leaft, if you 're not here.

It is, it is; I tremble with the froft,

And know that I the day have loft;
And those wild things which men they call,

I find to be but bears or foxes all.

white;

Thou flatterer! which comply'ft with every sight! Thou Babel, which confound'ft the eye

With unintelligible variety!

Who haft no certain What, nor Where; But vary'ft ftill, and doft thyfelf declare

So

Inconftant, as thy fhe-profeffors are.

Beauty! Love's feene and masquerade,

gay by well-plac'd lights and diftance made;

Falle coin, with which th' impofter cheats us ftill; The ftamp and colour good, but metal ill!

Which light or bafe we find, when we Weigh by enjoyment, and examine thee!

For, though thy being be but fhow,
Tis chiefly night which men to thee allow :
And chufe t' enjoy thee, when thou least art Thou.

Beauty! thou active, paffive ill!
Which dy'ft thyfclf as faft as thou dost kill!
Then tulip, who thy stock in paint dost waste,
Neither for phylic good, nor fmell, nor taste.

Beauty! whofe flames but meteors are, Short-liv'd and low, though thou would'ft feem a ftar;

Who dar'ft not thine own home defery,
Pretending to dwell richly in the eye,
When thou, alas! doft in the fancy lie.

Beauty! whofe conquefts ftill are made
O'er hearts by cowards kept, or cife betray'd;
Weak victor! who thyfelf deftroy'd must be
When Sickness storms, or Time befieges thee!

Thou 'unwholefome thaw to frozen age! Thou strong wine, which youth's fever doft enrage!

Thou tyrant, which leav'ft no man free! Thou fubtle thief, from whom nought fafe can be! Thou murderer, which haft kill'd, and devil, which would'ft damn me!

Of all that shines thou much the best! And, as thou now defcend'ft to fea, More fair and fresh rife up from thence to me!

Thou, who in many a propriety,

So truly art the fun to me,

Add one more likenefs (which I'm fure you can)

And let me and my fun beget a man!

H'

MY PICTURE.

ERE, take my likeness with you, whilst 'tis fo;
For, when from hence you go,

The next fun's rifing will behold

Me pale, and lean, and old:

The man who did this picture draw,

Will fwear next day my face he never faw.

I really believe, within a while,
If you upon this shadow fmile,

Your prefence will fuch vigour give
(Your prefence, which makes all things live!)
And abfence fo much alter me,

This will the fubftance, 1 the fhadow, be.
When from your well-wrought cabinet you take it,
And your bright looks awake it,
Ah! be not frighted if you fee
The new-foul'd picture gaze on thee,
And hear it breathe a figh or two;
For thofe are the first things that it will do.
My rival-image will be then thought bleft,
And laugh at me as difpoffeft;
But thou, who, (if I know thee right)
I' th' fubftance doft not much delight,
Wilt rather fend again for me,
Who then fhall but my picture's picture be.

Since that lov'd hand this mortal wound docs give,

So handsomely the thing contrive,
That the may guiltlefs of it live;
So perish, that her killing thee
May a chance-medley, and no murder, be.
"Tis nobler much for me, that I

By' her beauty, not her anger, die :
This will look justly, and become
An execution; that, a martyrdom.

The cenfuring world will ne'er refrain
From judging men by thunder flain.
She must be angry, fure, if I fhould be
So bold to ask her to make me,
By being her's happier than fhe!
I will not; 'tis a milder fate
To fall by her not loving, than her hate.

And yet this death of mine, I fear,
Will ominous to her appear;
When, found in every other part,
Her facrifice is found without an heart;
For the last tempest of my death
Shall figh out that too with my breath.
Then fhall the world my noble ruia fee,
Some pity and fome envy me;
Then the herself, the mighty fhe,

Shall grace my funerals with this truth;

" "Twas only Love deftroy'd the gentle youth!"

THE MONOPOLY.

W. That feed th' eternal burnings of my heart!
HAT mines of fulphur in my breast do lie,

Not Etna flames more fierce or constantly,
The founding fhop of Vulcan's smoky art:

Vulcan his fhop has placed there,
And Cupid's forge is fet-up here.

Here all thofe arrows' mortal heads are made,
That fly fo thick unfeen through yielding air;
The Cyclops here, which labour at the trade,
Are Jealoufy, Fear, Sadnefs, and Defpair.
Ah, cruel God! and why to me
Gave you this curft monopoly?

I have the trouble, not the gains, of it :-
Give me but the difpofal of one dart,
And then (I'll afk no other benefit)
Heat as you pleafe your furnace in my heart:
So fweet's revenge to me, that I
Upon my foe would gladly die.

Deep into her bofom would I ftrike the dart,
Deeper than woman e'er was flruck by thee;
Thou giv'it them fmall wounds, and fo far from
th' heart,

They flutter ftill about, inconftantly:

Curfe on thy goodnefs, whom we find
Civil to none but wonian-kind!

Vain God! who women doft thyfelf adore!
Their wounded hearts do still retain the powers
To travel and to wander, as before:
Thy broken arrows 'twixt that fex and ours
So 'unjustly are diftributed,

They take the feathers, we the head.

THE DISTANCE. 'VE followed thee a year, at least,

I And never flopp'd myfdf to reft;

But yet can thee o'ertake no more Than this day can the day that went before. In this our fortunes equal prove

To ftars, which govern them above; Our stars, that move for ever round, With the fame diftance ftill betwixt them found In vain, alas! in vain I ftrive The wheel of Fate fafter to drive; Since, if around it fwiftlier fly,

She in it mends her pace as much as I.

Than I had done before;

But you as cafily might account Till to the top of numbers you amount,

As caft up my love's fcore.

Ten thoufand millions was the fum;
Millions of endless millions are to come.

I'm fure her beauties cannot greater grow;
Why should my love do fo?

A real caufe at firft did move;
But mine own fancy now drives-on my love,
With fhadows from itfelf that flow.
My love, as we in numbers fee,
By cyphers is increas'd eternally.
So the new-made and untry'd spheres above
Took their first turn from th' hand of Jove;
But are, fince that beginning, found
By their own forms to move for ever round.
All violent motions fhort do prove ;
But, by the length, 'tis plain to fee
That Love's a motion natural to me.

LOVE'S VISIBILITY.

WITH

7ITH much of pain, and all the art I knew,
Have I endeavour'd hitherto

To hide my love, and yet all will not do.
The world perceives it, and, it may be, the;
Though fo difcreet and good fhe be,
By hiding it, to teach that fkill to me.
Men without love have oft fo cunning grown,
That fomething like it they have shown;
But none who had it ever feem'd t'have none.

Love's of a strangely open, fimple kind,
Can no arts or disguise find,
But thinks none fees it 'cause itself is blind.

Hare

!

HIS MISTRESS.

HESE full two hours now have I gazing been, THE foto hoy it can I gain

To look on heaven with mighty gulfs between
Was the great mifer's greatest pain;
So near was he to heaven's delight,
As with the bleft converse he might,

Yet could not get one drop of water by 't.

Ah wretch! I feem to touch her now; but oh, What boundless spaces do us part!

G

MY FATE.

My lownefs, and her high defert: But thefe might conquerable prove; Nothing does me fo far remove,

As her hard foul's averfion from love.

my

So travellers, that lofe their way by night,
If from afar they chance t'elpy
Th' uncertain glimmerings of a taper's light,
Take flattering hopes, and think it nigh;
Till, wearied with the fruitless pain,
They fit them down, and weep in vain,
And there in darkness and defpair remain.

RESOLVED TO LOVE.

WONDER what the grave and wife

Think of all us that love;

Whether our pretty foolerics

Their mirth or anger move;

They understand not breath that words does want; Our fighs to them are infignificant.

One of them faw me, th' other day,

Touch the dear hand which I admire;

My foul was melting trait away,
And dropt before the fire:

This filly wife-man, who pretends to know,
Ask'd why I look'd fo pale, and trembled fo?
Another, from my mistress' door

Saw me with eyes all watery come;
Nor could the hidden caufe explore,

But thought fome fmoke was in the room: Such ignorance from unwounded learning came; He knew tears made by fmoke, but not by flame.

If learn'd in other things you be,

And have in love no skill,

For God's fake keep your arts from me,
For I'll be ignorant ftill:

VOL. II.

But will be still the fame, whate'er you do: You cannot kill my love with your difdain; Wound it you may, and make it live in pair. Me, mine example, let the Stoics use,

Their fad and cruel doctrine to maintain; Let all predeftinators me produce,

Who ftruggle with eternal bonds in vain : This fire I'm born to-but 'tis the muft tell, Whether 't be beans of heaven or flames of hell.

You, who men's fortunes in their faces read,

To find out mine, look not, alas! on me;
But mark her face, and all the features heed;
For only there is writ my destiny:
Or, if stars fhew it, gaze not on the skies;
But ftudy the aftrology of her eyes.

If thou find there kind and propitious rays,
What Mars or Saturn threaten I'll not fear;
I well believe the fate of mortal days

Is writ in heaven; but oh, my heaven is there. What can men learn from stars they scarce can see? Two great lights rule the world, and her two me.

IT

THE HEART-BREAKING.

T gave a piteous groan, and fo it broke;
In vain it fomething would have spoke:
The love within too strong for 't was,
Like poifon put into a Venice-glass.

I thought that this fome remedy might prove;
But oh, the mighty ferpent Love,
Cut by this chance in pieces fmall,
In all still liv'd, and still it stung in all.

And now, alas! each littie broken part
Feels the whole pain of all my heart;
And every smallest corner still

Lives with that torment which the whole did kill.

L