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Her hair, nor loose nor tyd in formal plat,
Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride;
For some untuck'd descended her shav'd hat,
Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside;
Some in her thredden fillet still did bide,
And true to bondage, would not break from thence,
Tho' slackly braided in loofe negligence.
A thousand favours from a maund she drew,
Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet ;
Which one by one she in a river threw,

Upon whose weeping margent she was fet, · Like usury, applying wet to wet;

Or monarch's hands, that let not bounty fall,
Where want cries some, but where excess begs all.
Of folded schedules had she many a one,
Which she perus’d, figh’d, tore, and gave the flood;
Crack'd many a ring of pofied gold and bone,
Bidding them find their fepulchers in mud:
Found yet more letters fadly penn'd in blood,
With fleided filk, feat and affectedly
Enswath'd and seal'd to curious secrecy.
These often bath'd she in her fuxive eyes,
And often kiss’d, and often gave a tear;
Cry’d, O false blood ! thou register of lyes,
What unapproved witness doit him bear?
Ink would have secm'd more black and damned here!
This said, in top of rage the lines she rents,
Big discontent so breaking their contents.
A reverend man, that graz'd his cattle nigh,
Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew
Of court, of city, and had let go by
The swiftest hours observed as they flew;
Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew :
And, privileg'd by age, desires to know,
In brief, the grounds and motives of her woe.

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So flides he down upon his grained bat,
And comely distant fits he by her fide;
When he again desires her, being fat,
Her grievance with his hearing to divide;
If that from him there may be ought apply'd,
Which may her suffering extafy alluage :
'Tis promis'd in the charity of age.
Father, she says, tho' in me you behold

The injury of many a blasting hour,
Let it not tell your judgment I am old;
Not
age,

but forrow, over me hath power :
I might as yet have been a spreading flower,
Fresh to myself, if I had self-apply'd
Love to myself, and to no love beside.
But woe is me! too early I attended
A youthful suit; it was to gain my grace;
O! one by nature's outwards fo commended,
That maidens eyes stuck over all his face;
Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place;
And when in his fair parts she did abide,
She was new lodg'd, and newly deify'd.
His browny locks did hang in crooked curls,
And every light occafion of the wind
Upon his lips their filken parcels hurls.
What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find;
Each

суе

that saw him did inchant the mind : For on his visage was in little drawn, What largeness thinks in paradise was fawn. Small fhew of man was yet upon his chin, His phoenix down began but to appear, Like unfhorn velvet, on that termless skin, Whose bare out-bragg’d the web it feem'd to wear; Yet thew'd his visage by that cost most dear: And nice affections wavering, stood in doubt If best 'were as it was, or best without.

His qualities were beauteous as his form,
For maiden-tongu'd he was, and thereof free:
Yet if men inov’d him, was he such a storin,
As of ’twixt May and April is to see,
When winds breathe sweet, unruly tho' they be.
His rudeness fo with his authoriz'd youth,
Did livery falseness in a pride of truth.
Well could he ride, and often men would say,
That horse his mettle from his rider takes;
Proud of subjection, noble by the sway,
What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop
And controversy hence a question takes, [he makes!
Whether the horse by him became his deed,
Or he his, manag’d by th' well-doing steed?
But quickly on this side the verdict went;
His real habitude gave life and grace
To appertainings and to ornament,
Accomplish'd in himself, not in his cafe ;
All aids themselves made fairer by their place,
Can for additions yet their purpose trim,
Piec'd not his grace, but were all grac’d by him.
So on the tip of his subduing tongue
All kinds of arguments and questions deep,
All replication prompt, and reason strong,
For his advantage still did wake and seep,
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep.
He had the dialect and different skill,
Catching all passions in his craft of will;
That he did in the general bosom reign
Of young, of old, and sexes both inchanted,
To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain
In personal duty, following where he haunted;
Confent's bewitch'd, ere he defire have granted;
And dialogu'd for him what he would say,
Alk'd their own wills, and made their wills obey.

Many there were that did his picture get,
To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind;
Like fools that in th' imagination set
The goodly objects, which abroad they find,
Of lands and manfions, theirs in thought affign'd;
And labouring, in more pleasures to bestow them,
Than the true gouty landlord, who doth own them.
So many have, that never touch'd his hand,
Sweetly suppos’d them mistress of his heart:
My woful felf, that did in freedom stand,
And was my own fee simple, not in part,
What with his art in youth, and youth in art,
Threw

my

affections in his charmed power,
Referv'd the stalk, and gave him all my flower.
Yet did I not, as some my equals did,
Demand of him, nor being desir’d, yielded :
Finding myself in honour lo forbid,
With safest distance I my honour shielded :
Experience for me many bulwarks builded
Of proofs new bleeding, which remain’d the foil
Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil.
But ah! whoever fhunn'd by precedent
The destin'd ill, she must herself affay?
Or forc'd examples, 'gainst her own content,
To put the by-past perils in her way?
Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay:
For when we rage, advice is often seen,
By blunting us, to make our wits more keen.
Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood,

That we must curb it upon others proof:
To be forbid the sweets that seem so good,
For fear of harms, that preach in our behoof.
O appetite! from judgment stand aloof.
The one a palate hath, that needs will taste,
Tho' reason weep, and cry, it is thy last,

1

For further I could say this man's untrue,
And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling,
Heard where his plants in others orchards grew,
Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling,
Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling;
Thought characters and words merely but art,
And bastards of his foul adult'rate heart.
And long upon these terms I held my city,
Till thus he 'gan besiege me: Gentle maid,
Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity,
And be not of my holy vows afraid ;
What's to you sworn, to none was ever said.
For feasts of love I have been callid unto,
Till now did ne'er invite, nor never vow;
All my offences, that abroad you see,
Are errors of the blood, none of the mind;
Love made them not, with acture they may be,
Where neither party is nor true nor kind :
They sought their shame, that so their shame did find.
And so much less of shame in me remains,
By how much of me their reproach contains.
Ainong the many that mine eyes have seen,
Not one, whose flame my heart so much as warmed,
Or my affection put to the smallest teen,

leisures ever charmed : Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harmed ; Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free, And reign'd commanding in his monarchy. Look here what tributes wounded fancy sent me, Of pallid pearls and rubies red as blood; Figuring, that they their passions likewise lent me, Of grief and blushes aptly understood; In bloodless white, and the encrimson'd mood, Effects of terror, and dear modesty, Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly.

Or any

of my

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