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To th' 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 commit,
Wilt make thy wicked boast of it;

For men, with Roman pride, above
The conquest do the triumph love;
Nor think a perfect victory gain'd,

Unless they through the streets their captive lead enchain'd.

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?
'T is you the conqueror are, 't is you
Who have not only ta'en, but bound and gagg'd

me too.

She. Though publick 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!

I'm angry; but my 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 us'd to victory!

A tongue so blest 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 lye.

'T is true, if human Reason were the guide, Reason, methinks, was on my side;

VERSES LOST UPON A WAGER.

But that's a guide, alas! we must resign,
When th' 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,
"I would 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 ow'd 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 publick vent is free,
Till she has paid her customs first to thee.

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109

BATHING IN THE RIVER.

THE fish around her crowded, as they do
To the false light that treacherous fishers shew,
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:

I laugh'd the wanton play to view;
But 't is, alas! at land so too,

And still old lovers yield the place to new.

Kiss her, and as you part, you amorous waves (My happier rivals, and my fellow-slaves)

Point to your flowery banks, and to her shew
The good your bounties do;

Then tell her what your pride doth cost,
And how your use and beauty 's lost,

When rigorous winter binds you up with frost.

Tell her, her beauties and her youth, like thee,
Haste without stop to a devouring sea;
Where they will mix'd and undistinguish'd lie
With all the meanest things that die;
As in the ocean thou

No privilege dost know

Above th' impurest streams that thither flow.

Tell her, kind flood! when this has made her sad,
Tell her there's yet one remedy to be had;
Shew her how thou, though long since past, dost
find

Thyself yet still behind:

Marriage (say to her) will bring

About the self-same thing.

But she, fond maid, shuts and seals-up the spring.

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