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What gains in such a bargain are * He'll in thy mines dig better treasures far.

Can gold, alas! with thee compare * The sun, that makes it, 's not so fair; The sun, which can nor make nor ever see A thing so beautiful as thee, In all the journeys he does pass, Though the sea serv'd him for a looking-glass.

Bold was the wretch that cheapen'd thee; Since Magus, none so bold as he: Thou'rt so divine a thing, that thee to buy Is to be counted simony; Too dear he'll find his sordid price Has forfeited that and the Benefice.

If it be lawful thee to buy, There’s none can pay that rate but I; Nothing on earth a fitting price can be, But what on earth's most like to thee; And that my heart does only bear; For there thyself, thy very self is there.

So much thyself does in me live, That, when it for thyself I give, "T is but to change that piece of gold for this, Whose stamp and value equal is ; And, that full weight too may be had, My soul and body, two grains more, I’ll add.

THE LONG LIFE.

LOVE from Time's wings hath stol’n the feathers,
Sure
He has, and put them to his own;
For hours of late as long as days endure,
And wery minutes hours are grown.

The various motions of the turning year
Belong not now at all to me: -

Each summer's night does Lucy's now appear,
Each winter's day St. Barnaby.

How long a space since first I lov’d it is "
To look into a glass I fear;

And am surpris'd with wonder when I miss
Grey-hairs and wrinkles there.

Th' old Patriarchs' age, and not their happiness
too,
Why does hard Fate to us restore ?
Why does Love's fire thus to mankind renew
What the Flood wash'd away before ?

Sure those are happy people that complain
O' th' shortness of the days of man:

Contract mine, Heaven! and bring them back again
To th' ordinary span.

If when your gift, long life, I disapprove,
I too ingrateful seem to be ;

Punish me justly, Heaven; make her to love,
And then 't will be too short for me.

COUNSEL.

GENTLY, ah gently, madam, touch
The wound which you yourself have made;
That pain must needs be very much,
Which makes me of your hand afraid.
Cordials of pity give me now,
For I too weak for purgings grow.

Do but a while with patience stay
(For counsel yet will do no good)
Till time, and rest, and Heaven, allay
The violent burnings of my blood;
For what effect from this can flow,
To chide men-drunk, for being so

Perhaps the physick's good you give,
But ne'er to me can useful prove;
Medicines may cure, but not revive;
And I'm not sick, but dead in love.
In Love's hell, not his world, am I;
At once I live, am dead, and die.

What new-found rhetorick is thine *
Ev’n thy dissuasions me persuade,
And thy great power does clearest shine,
When thy commands are disobey'd.
In vain thou bidd'st me to forbear;
Obedience were rebellion here.

Thy tongue comes in, as if it meant
Against thine eyes t' assist my heart;
But different far was his intent,
For straight the traitor took their part:
And by this new foe I'm bereft
Of all that little which was left.

The act, I must confess, was wise
As a dishonest act could be :
Well knew the tongue, alas ! your eyes
Would be too strong for that and me;
And part o' th' triumph chose to get,
Rather than be a part of it.

RESOLVED TO BE BELOVED.

*T IS true, I 'ave lov'd already three or four, And shall three or four hundred more; I’ll love each fair-one that I see,

Till I find one at last that shall love me.

That shall my Canaan be, the fatal soil
That ends my wanderings and my toil:
I’ll settle there, and happy grow;

The country does with milk and honey flow.

The needle trembles so, and turns about,
Till it the northern point find out;
But 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 slothful 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.

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