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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.
Th' old Patriarchs' age, and not their happiness too,

Why does hard Fate to us restore ?
Why does Love's fire thus to mankind renew,
What the Flood wash'd away

before? 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.
If when your gift, long life, I disapprove,

I too ingrateful seem to be;
Punish me justly, Heaven ! make hér to love,

And then 'twill be too short for me.

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ENTLY, ah gently, madam, touch

The wound which you yourself have made ;
That pain must needs be very much,

Which makes nie of your hand afraid.
Cordials of pity give me now,
For I too weak for purgings grow..
Do but awhile with patience stay

(For counsel yet will do no good) Till time, and rest, and Heaven, allay

The violent burnings of my blood; VOL. I.



For what effect from this can flow,
To chide men drunk, for being so ?
Perhaps the physick 's good you give,

But ne'er to me can useful prove ;
Medicines may cure, but not revive ;

And I'm not sick, but dead in love,
In Love's hell, not his world, am I;
At once I live, am dead, and die.
What new-found rhetorick is thine !

Ev’n thy diffuafions me persuade,
And thy great power does clearest shine,

When thy commands are disobey'd.
In vain thou bid'st me to forbear;
Obedience were rebellion here.
Thy tongue comes in, as if it meant

Against thine eyes t' assist my heart;
But different far was his intent,

For strait the traitor took their part:
And by this new foe I’m bereft
Of all that little which was left.
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.


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toil :

'IS true, I 'ave lov'd already three or four,

And thall three or four hundred more ;

I'll love each fair-one that I fee, Till I find one at last that shall love me. That shall my Canaan be, the fatal foil

That ends my wanderings and my

I'll settle there, and happy grow ;
The country does with milk and honey flow.
The needle trembles so, and turns about,

Till it the northern point find out ;

Bat constant then and fix'd does prove, Fix'd, that his dearest pole as soon may move. Then may my vessel torn and shipwreck'd be, If it

put forth again to sea ! It-never more abroad shall roam, Though 't could next voyage bring the Indies home, But I must sweat in love, and labour yet,

Till. I a competency get;

They 're Nothful fools who leave a trade, Till they a.moderate fortune by 't have made. Variety I ask not; give me one

To live perpetually upon;

The person Love does to us fit, Like manna, has the taste of all in it,


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till we

Τ Η Ε S A M. E.
OR Heaven's fake, what d' you mean to do?:

Keep me, or let me go, one of the two;
Youth and warm hours let me not idly lose,

The little time that Love does chufe:
If always here I'must not stay,

Let me be gone whilft yet ’tis day;
Left I, faint and benighted, lose my way..

'Tis dismal, one so long to love
In vain; till to love more as vain must provej,
To hunt fo long on nimble prey,

Too weary to take others be :
Alas ! 'tis folly to remain,

And waste our army thus in vain,.
Before a city which will ne'er be ta'en..

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 rounds

When it does hardness meet, and pride,
My love does then rebound t' another side;
But, if it aught that 's soft and yielding hit,,

It lodges there, and stays in it.
Whatever 'tis Thall first love me,
That it


heaven may truly be ; I lhall be sure to give ’t eternity.


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Y Heaven, I'll tell her boldly that 'tis the ;
Why Mould she a tham'd or angry be,
To be belov'd by me?

The Gods may give their altars o'er;
They 'll smoak but seldom any more,
If none but happy men must them adore.
The lightning, which tall oaks oppose in vain,
To strike sometimes does not disdain

The humble furzes of the plain.

She being so high, and I so low,

Her power by this does greater show,
Who at such distance gives so sure a blow.
Compar'd with her, all things so worthless prove,

That nought on earth can tow'rds her move,

Till 't be exalted by her love.

Equal to her, alas ! there 's none;
She like a Deity.is grown;
That muft create, or else must be alone.
If there be man who thinks himself so high,
As to pretend equality,

He deserves her less than I;

For he would chcat for his relief; And one would give, with leffer grief, T'an undeserving beggar than a thief.

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