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How long a space since first I lov'd it is !
To look into a glass I fear ;
Grey-hairs and wrinkles there.
Why does hard Fate to us restore ?
before? Sure those are happy people that complain
O'th' shortness of the days of man:
To th' ordinary span.
I too ingrateful seem to be;
And then 'twill be too short for me.
ENTLY, ah gently, madam, touch
The wound which you yourself have made ;
Which makes nie of your hand afraid.
(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,
But ne'er to me can useful prove ;
And I'm not sick, but dead in love,
Ev’n thy diffuafions me persuade,
When thy commands are disobey'd.
Against thine eyes t' assist my heart;
For strait the traitor took their part:
As a dishonest act could be :
Would be too strong for that and me.;
RESOLVED TO BE BELOVED
'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 ;
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,
Τ Η Ε S A M. E.
Keep me, or let me go, one of the two;
The little time that Love does chufe:
Let me be gone whilft yet ’tis day;
'Tis dismal, one so long to love
Too weary to take others be :
And waste our army thus in vain,.
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,
It lodges there, and stays in it.
heaven may truly be ; I lhall be sure to give ’t eternity.
Τ Η Σ
Y Heaven, I'll tell her boldly that 'tis the ;
The Gods may give their altars o'er;
The humble furzes of the plain.
She being so high, and I so low,
Her power by this does greater show,
That nought on earth can tow'rds her move,
Till 't be exalted by her love.
Equal to her, alas ! there 's none;
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.