By eating to a furfeit : this once past,
What relishes? ev'n kiffes lofe their taste.

PRO. Bleffings may be repeated while they cloy; But fhall we starve, 'cause surfeitings destroy? And if fruition did the taste impair

Of kiffes, why fhould yonder happy pair,

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Whofe joys juft Hymen warrants all the night, 25 Confume the day too in this lefs delight?

CON. Urge not 'tis neceffary; alas! we know
The homeliest thing that mankind does is fo.
The world is of a large extent we fee,

And must be peopled; children there must be :- 30
So muft bread too; but fince there are enough
Born to that drudgery, what need we plough?

PRO. I need not plough, fince what the stooping hine
Gets of my pregnant land must all be mine:
But in this nobler tillage 't is not fo;

For when Anchifes did fair Venus know,

What int'reft had poor Vulcan in the boy,
Famous Æneas, or the present joy?

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CON. Women enjoy'd, whate'er before they've been, Are like romances read, or scenes once feen: Fruition dulls or spoils the play much more Than if one read or knew the plot before.

PRO. Plays and romances read and feen, do fall

In our opinions; yet not seen at all,

Whom would they please? To an heroick tale
Would you not liften, left it should grow flale?

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CON. 'Tis expectation makes a blessing dear; Heav'n were not heav'n if we knew what it were.

PRO. If 't were not heav'n if we knew what it were, 'Twould not be heav'n tothofe that now are there. 50 CON. And as in profpects we are there pleas'd most, Where fomething keeps the eye from being loft, And leaves us room to guess; so here reftraint Holds up delight, that with excess would faint. PRO. Restraint preserves the pleasure we have got, But he ne'er has it that enjoys it not. In goodly profpects who contracts the space, Or takes not all the bounty of the place? We with remov'd what standeth in our light, And Nature blame for limiting our fight; Where you ftand wifely winking, that the view Of the fair profpest may be always new.

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CON. They who know all the wealth they have are He's only rich that cannot tell his store. [poor; PRO. Not he that knows the wealth he has is poor, But he that dares not touch nor ufe his ftore.

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XLIV.

AN APOLOGY

FOR HAVING LOVED BEFORE.

THEY that never had the use
Of the grape's furprising juice,

So they that are to love inclin'd,
Sway'd by chance, not choice, or art,
To the first that's fair or kind,
Make a prefent of their heart:
It is not fhe that first we love,
But whom dying we approve.

To man, that as in th' ev'ning made,
Stars gave the first delight,
Admiring, in the gloomy shade,

Thofe little drops of light:

Then at Aurora, whose fair hand
Remov'd them from the skies,

He gazing tow'rd the east did stand,
She entertain'd his eyes.

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But when the bright fun did appear,
All thofe he 'gan defpife;

His wonder was determin'd there,

And could no higher rife.

He neither might, nor wifh'd to know

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A more refulgent light:

For that (as mine your beauties now)
Employ'd his utmost fight.

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XLV.

THE NIGHT-PIECE;

OR, A PICTURE DRAWN IN THE DARK.

DARKNESS, which fairest nymphs disarmıs,

Defends us ill from Mira's charms:

Mira can

lay her beauty by,

Take no advantage of the eye,

Quit all that Lely's art can take,
And yet a thousand captives make.

Her fpeech is grac'd with sweeter found
Than in another's fong is found;
And all her well-plac'd words are darts,
Which need no light to reach our hearts.

As the bright stars and Milky Way,
Shew'd by the night, are hid by day;
So we, in that accomplish'd mind,
Help'd by the night, new graces find,
Which by the splendour of her view,
Dazzled before, we never knew.

While we converfe with her, we mark

No want of day, nor think it dark :

Her fhining image is a light

Fix'd in our hearts, and conquers night.

Like jewels to advantage fet, Her beauty by the shade does get;

There blushes, frowns, and cold difdain,
All that our paffion might reftrain,

Is hid, and our indulgent mind

Prefents the fair idea kind.

Yet, friended by the night, we dare
Only in whispers tell our care:
He that on her his bold hand lays
With Cupid's pointed arrows plays;
They with a touch, (they are so keen!)
Wound as unfhot, and she unfeen.

All near approaches threaten death;
We may be fhipwreck'd by her breath:

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Love, favour'd once with that fweet gale,
Doubles his hafte, and fills his fail,
Till he arrive where the must prove
The haven or the rock of love.

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So we th' Arabian coaft de know At distance, when the spices blow; By the rich odour taught to feer, Tho' neither day nor fars appear.

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