What new-found rhetorick is thine? Ev'n thy dissuasions me persuade, In vain thou bidd'st me to forbear; Thy tongue comes in, as if it meant For straight the traitor took their part: And by this new foe I'm bereft The act, I must confess, was wise 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: 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, 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 Like To live perpetually upon; The person Love does to us fit, manna, THE SAME. FOR Heaven's sake, what d' you mean to do The little time that Love does choose: Let me be gone whilst yet 't is day; 'T is dismal, one so long to love In vain; till to love more as vain must prove; . Alas! 't is folly to remain, And waste our army thus in vain, Before a city which will ne'er be ta'en. At several hopes wisely to fly, Ought not to be esteem'd inconstancy; "T is more inconstant always to pursue A thing that always flies from you; When it does hardness meet, and pride, My love does then rebound t' another side; But, if it aught that 's soft and yielding hit, It lodges there, and stays in it. Whatever 't is shall first love me, That it my heaven may truly be, I shall be sure to give 't eternity. THE DISCOVERY. BY Heaven, I'll tell her boldly that 't is she; The Gods may give their altars o'er; The lightning, which tall oaks oppose in vain, The humble furzes of the plain. She being so high, and I so low, Her power by this does greater show, Who at such distance gives so sure a blow. Compar'd with her, all things so worthless prove, That nought on earth can tow'rds her move, Till 't be exalted by her love. Equal to her, alas! there's none; She like a Deity is grown; That must create, or else must be alone. If there be man who thinks himself so high As to pretend equality, He deserves her less than I; For he would cheat for his relief; And one would give, with lesser grief, T'an undeserving beggar than a thief. AGAINST FRUITION. No; thou 'rt a fool, I'll swear, if e'er thou grant : |