By Points they make in th’ Air, and sooner say
By what right Line the last Star made his Way
That fed from Heaven to Earth, than guess to know
How our Loves first did spring, or how they grow.
Love is all Spirit : Fairies sooner may
Be taken tardy when they Night-tricks play,
Than we, we are too dull and lumpish rather.

THE crafty Boy that had full oft assay'd
To pierce my stubborn and resisting Breast,
But still the Bluntness of his Darts betray'd,
Resolvd at last of setting up his Rest,

Either my wild, unruly Heart to tame,
Or quit his Godhead and his Bow disclaim.

So all his lovely Looks, his pleasing Fires,
All his sweet Motions, all his taking Smiles,
All that awakes, all that inflames Desires,
All that by sweet Commands, all that beguiles,

He does into one Pair of Eyes convey,
And there begs Leave that he himself may stay.

And there he brings me where his Ambush lay,
Secure and careless to a stranger Land;
And, never warning me, which was foul Play,
Does make me close by all this Beauty stand.

Where first struck dead, I did at last recover,
To know that I might only live to love her.

So I'll be sworn I do, and do confess
The blind Lad's Power whilst he inhabits there;
But I'll be even with him nevertheless,
If e'er I chance to meet with him elsewhere.

If other Eyes invite the Boy to tarry,
I'll fly to hers as to a Sanctuary.

I PRITHEE send me back my Heart,

Since I cannot have thine,
For, if from yours you will not part,

Why then should'st thou have mine?

Yet, now I think on't, let it lie

To find it were in vain,
For th' hast a Thief in either Eye

Would steal it back again.

Why should two Hearts in one Breast lie,

And yet not lodge together? O Love where is thy Sympathy

If thus our Breasts thou sever?

But Love is such a Mystery,

I cannot find it out ;
For when I think I'm best resolv'd,

I then am in most Doubt.

Then Farewell Care and Farewell Woe,

I will no longer pine :
For I'll believe I have her Heart,

As much as she hath mine.

I AM confirm'd a Woman can
Love this, or that, or any Man;
This Way she's melting hot,
To-morrow swears she knows you not ;
If she but a new Object find,
Then straight she's of another Mind.

Then hang me, Ladies, at your Door,
If e'er I dote upon you more.

If still I love the fairsome (why?
For nothing but to please my Eye);

And so the fat and soft-skinn'd Dame
I'll flatter to appease my Flame;
For she that's musical I'll long
When I am sad to sing a Song,

Then hang me, Ladies, at your Door,
If e'er I dote upon you more.

I'll give my Fancy Leave to range
Through everywhere to find

out Change,
The Black, the Brown, the Fair shall be
But Objects of Variety :
I'll court you all to serve my Turn,
But with such Flames as shall not burn-

Then hang me, Ladies, at your Door,
If e'er I dote upon you more.

I PRITHEE spare me, gentle Boy,
Press me no more for that slight Toy,
That foolish Trifle of a Heart ;
I swear it will not do its Part,
Though thou dost thine, employ'st thy Power and Art.

For through long Custom it was known
The little Secrets, and is grown
Sullen and wise, will have its Will,
And, like old Hawks, pursues that still
That makes least Sport, Aies only where't can kill.

Some Youth that has not made his Story,
Will think, perchance, the Pain's the Glory ;
And mannerly fit out Love's Feast ;
I shall be carving of the best,
Rudely call for the last Course 'fore the Rest.

And, O, when once that Course is past,
How short a Time the Feast doth last !
Men rise away, and scarce say Grace,
Or civilly once thank the Face
That did invite, but seek another Place.

WHEN, dearest, I but think of thee,
Methinks all Things that lovely be
Are present and my Soul delighted :

For Beauties that from Worth arise

Are like the Grace of Deities,
Still present, though unsighted.

Thus whilst I sit and sigh the Day
With all his borrowed Lights away,
Till Night's black Wings do overtake me,

Thinking on thee, thy Beauties then,

As sudden Lights do sleeping Men, So they by their bright Rays awake me. Thus Absence dies, and dying proves No Absence can subsist with Loves That do partake of fair Perfection ;

Since in the darkest Night they may

By Love's quick Motion find a way To see each other by Reflection. The waving Sea can with each Flood Bathe some high Promont that hath stood Far from the Main up in the River :

Oh, think not then but Love can do As much, for that's an Ocean too, Which flows not every day but ever !

a

HAST thou seen the Down in the Air

When wanton Blasts have toss'd it ? Or the Ship on the Sea,

When ruder Winds have cross'd it ? р с

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Hast thou mark'd the Crocodile's Weeping,

Or the Fox's Sleeping ?
Or hast viewed the Peacock in his Pride,

Or the Dove by his Bride,

When he courts for his Lechery?
O so fickle, O so vain, O so false, so false is she !

- The Sad One, Act IV. sc. iii.

His Dream

a

On a still silent Night scarce could I number
One of the Clock, but that a golden Slumber
Had locked my Senses fast, and carried me
Into a World of blest Felicity,

know not how: first to a Garden, where
The Apricot, the Cherry, and the Pear,
The Strawberry and Plum, were fairer far
Than that eye-pleasing Fruit that caused the Jar
Betwixt the Goddesses, and tempted more
Than fair Atlanta's Ball, though gilded o'er.

I gazed awhile on these, and presently
A silver Stream ran softly gliding by,
Upon whose Banks, Lilies more white than Snow,
New fallen from Heaven, with Violets mixed, did

grow ;
Whose Scent so chafed the Neighbour-air, that you
Would softly swear that Arabic Spices grew
Not far from thence, or that the Place had been
With Musk prepared, to entertain Love's Queen.
Whilst I admired, the River passed away,
And up a Grove did spring, green as in May.

When April had been moist ; upon whose Bushes
The pretty Robins, Nightingales and Thrushes
Warbled their Notes so sweetly, that my Ears
Did judge at least the Music of the Spheres.

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