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Her body is my soul; laugh not at this,

For by my life I swear it is. 'Tis that preserves my being and my breath

h; From that proceeds all that I do,

Nay all my thoughts and speeches too ; And separation from it is



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I come, and find a nymph much gentler here,

That gives consent to all I say.

Ah, gentle nymph ! who lik'st so well
In hollow, folitary caves to dwell ;

Her heart being such, into it go,
And do but once from thence answer me fo!
Complaisant nymph! who dost thus kindly share

In griefs whose cause thou dost not know;
Hadít thou but eyes, as well as tongue and ear,

How much compassion wouldst thou show!

Thy flame, whilst living, or a flower,
Was of less beauty, and less ravishing power.

Alas ! I might as easily
Paint thee to her, as describe her to thce.
By repercussion beams engender fire;.

Shapes by reflection shapes beget;
The voice itself, when stopt, does back retire,
And a new voice is made by it..


Thus things by opposition
The gainers grow; my barren love alone

Does from her stony breast rebound,
Producing neither image, fire, nor sound.



HEY say you 're angry, and rant mightily,
Because I love the same as you :

Alas! you 're very rich, 'tis true ;
But, pr’ythee, fool! what's that to Love and me?

You ’ave land and money, let that serve ;
And know you ’ave more by that than you deserve,
When next I see my fair-one, she shall know

How worthless thou art of her bed;

And, wretch ! I'll strike thee dumb and dead; With noble verse not understood by you ;

Whilst thy fole rhetorick shall be “ Jointure” and “ jewels,” and “ our friends agree." Pox o' your friends, that doat and domineer;

Lovers are better friends than they :

Let's those in other things obey ;
The Fates, and stars, and Gods, must govern here.

Vain names of blood ! in love let none
Advise with any blood, but with their own,
'Tis that which bids me this bright maid adore ;

No other thought has had access !

'Did the now beg, I 'd love no less, And, were she an empress, I Mould love no more ; VOL. I.



Were she as just and true to me,
Ah, simple soul! what would become of thee?

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OPE! whose weak being ruin'd is,

Alike, if it succeed, and if it mifs ;
Whom good or ill does equally confound,
And both the horns of Fate's dilemma wound:

Vain shadow! which doft vanish quite,

Both at full noon and perfect night! The stars have not a possibility

Of blessing 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, whilst thou should'st but taste, devour'st it quite ! Thou bring it us an estate, yet leav'ft us poor, . By clogging it with legacies before !

The joys which we entire should wed,

Come deflower'd virgins to our bed;
Good fortunes without gain imported be,

Such mighty custom 's paid to thee.
For joy, like wine, kept close does better taste;
If it take air before, its spirits waste.

Hope ! Fortune's cheating lottery !
Where for one prize an hundred blanks there be ;
Fond archer, Hope! who tak’lt thy aim fo far,
That still or short 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 Reason's light prevail,
By Ignes Fatui for North-stars we fail.

Brother of Fear, more gayly clad!
The merrier fool o'th' two, yet quite as mad :
Sire of Repentance ! child of fond Desire !
That blow'st the chemics', and the lovers’, fire,

Leading them ftill in fenfibly' on

By the strange witchcraft of "
By thee the one does changing Nature, through

Her endless labyrinths, pursue ;
And th other chaces Woman, whilft she goes
More ways and turns than hunted Nature knows,

anon !"


The only cheap and universal cure!
Thou çaptive's freedom, and thou fick man's health!
Thou loser's victory, and thou beggar's wealth!

Thou manna, which from heaven we eat,

taste a several meat!
Thou strong retreat! thou sure-entaild estate,
Which nought has power to alienate !
Thou pleasant, honest flatterer ! for none
Flatter unhappy men, but thou alone !

Hope !

Hope! thou first-fruits of happiness!
Thou gentle dawning of a bright success!
Thou good preparative, without which our joy
Does work too strong, and, whilft it cures, destroy!

Who out of Fortune's reach doft stand,

And art a blessing still in hand!
Whilst thee, her earnest-money, we retain,

We certain are to gain,
Whether she '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 he ! Though Faith be heir, and have the fixt estate, Thy portion yet in moveables is great.

Happiness itself 's all one

In thee, or in poffeffion!
Only the future 's thine, the present his !

Thine's the more hard and noble blifs :
Best 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 difpute it with the End!
For Love, I fear, 's a fruit that does delight
The taste itself less than the smell and fight.

Fruition more deceitful is

Than thou canst be, when thou doft miss Men leave thee by obtaining, and strait Alee

Some other way again to thee;


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