So cunningly it wounds the heart,

It strikes such heat through every part, That thou a tempter worse than Satan art.

Though in thy thoughts scarce any tracks have been
So much as of original sin,

Such charms thy beauty wears as might
Desires in dying confess'd saints excite:
Thou, with strange adultery,

Dost in each breast a brothel keep ;
Awake all men do lust for thee,

And some enjoy thee when they sleep.
Ne'er before did woman live,
Who to such multitudes did give
The root and cause of sin, but only Eve.
Though in thy breast so quick a pity be,

That a fly's death's a wound to thee;
Though savage and rock-hearted those
Appear, that weep not even Romance's woes;
Yet ne'er before was tyrant known,
Whose rage was of so large extent;
The ills thou dost are whole thine own;
Thou'rt principal and instrument:
In all the deaths that come from you,
You do the treble office do

Of judge, of torturer, and of weapon too.
Thou lovely instrument of angry Fate,

Which God did for our faults create!
Thou pleasant, universal ill,

Which, sweet as health, yet like a plague dost kill!
Thou kind, well natured tyranny!

Thou chaste committer of a rape!

Thou voluntary destiny,

Which no man can, or would, escape!

So gentle, and so glad to spare,

So wondrous good, and wondrous fair, (We know) even the destroying-angels are.

DIALOGUE.

SHE. WHAT have we done? what cruel passion

moved thee,

Thus to ruin her that loved thee?

Me thou'st robb'd; but what art thou

Thyself the richer now?

Shame succeeds the short-lived pleasure;

So soon is spent, and gone, this thy ill-gotten treasure!

HE. We have done no harm; nor was it theft in me,
But noblest charity in thee.

I'll the well-gotten pleasure
Safe in my memory treasure:

What though the flower itself do waste, [last. The essence from it drawn does long and sweeter

SHE. No: I'm undone; my honour thou hast slain, And nothing can restore 't again.

Art and labour to bestow,

Upon the carcass of it now,

Is but to' embalm a body dead;

The figure may remain, the life and beauty's fled.

HE. Never, my dear, was honour yet undone
By Love, but Indiscretion.

To the' wise it all things does allow ;
And cares not What we do, but How.

Like tapers shut in ancient urns,

Unless it let-in air, for ever shines and burns.

SHE. Thou first, perhaps, who didst the fault Wilt make thy wicked boast of it; [commit, For men, with Roman pride, above

The conquest do the triumph love;

Nor think a perfect victory gain'd, [enchain'd. Unless they through the streets their captive lead

HE. Whoe'er his secret joys has open laid,
The bawd to his own wife is made;

Beside, what boast is left for me,
Whose whole wealth's a gift from thee?

"Tis you the conqueror are, 'tis you [me too.
Who have not only ta'en, but bound and gagged
SHE. Though public punishment we escape, the sin
Will rack and torture us within :
Guilt and sin our bosom bears;
And, though fair yet the fruit appears,

That worm which now the core does waste, When long 't has gnaw'd within, will break the skin at last.

HE. That thirsty-drink, that hungry-food, I sought, That wounded-balm, is all my fault;

And thou in pity didst apply,

The kind and only remedy:

The cause absolves the crime; since me

So mighty force did move, so mighty goodness thee.

SHE. Curse on thine arts! methinks I hate thee now; And yet I'm sure I love thee too!

but angry;

my

I'm
wrath will prove
More innocent than did thy love.

Thou hast this day undone me quite;

Yet wilt undo me more shouldst thou not come at night.

VERSES LOST UPON A WAGER.
As soon hereafter will I wagers lay
'Gainst what an oracle shall say;
Fool that I was, to venture to deny
A tongue so used to victory!

A tongue so bless'd by nature and by art,
That never yet it spoke but gain'd an heart:
Though what you said had not been true,
If spoke by any else but you;
Your speech will govern destiny,
And Fate will change rather than you

should lie.

'Tis true, if human Reason were the guide,
Reason, methinks, was on my side;
But that's a guide, alas! we must resign,
When the' authority's divine.

She said, she said herself it would be so;
And I, bold unbeliever! answer'd no:
Never so justly, sure, before,

Error the name of blindness bore;
For, whatsoe'er the question be,
There's no man that has eyes would bet for me.

If Truth itself (as other angels do

When they descend to human view) In a material form would deign to shine, "Twould imitate or borrow thine:

So dazzling bright, yet so transparent clear,
So well-proportion'd, would the parts appear!
Happy the eye which Truth could see
Cloth'd in a shape like thee;

But happier far the eye

Which could thy shape naked like Truth espy!

Yet this lost wager costs me nothing more
Than what I owed to thee before:

Who would not venture for that debt to play,
Which he were bound howe'er to pay?
If Nature gave me power to write in verse,
She gave it me thy praises to rehearse :
Thy wondrous beauty and thy wit
Has such a sovereign right to it,

That no man's Muse for public vent is free,
Till she has paid her customs first to thee.

BATHING IN THE RIVER.

THE fish around her crowded, as they do
To the false light that treacherous fishers show,
And all with as much ease might taken be,
As she at first took me ;

For ne'er did light so clear
Among the waves appear,

Though every night the sun himself set there.

Why to mute fish shouldst thou thyself discover
And not to me, thy no less silent lover?
As some from men their buried gold commit
To ghosts, that have no use of it;

Half their rich treasures so

Maids bury; and, for aught we know, (Poor ignorants!) they're mermaids all below.

The amorous waves would fain about her stay, But still new amorous waves drive them away, And with swift current to those joys they haste That do as swiftly waste;