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ECHO.

TIR'D with the rough denials of my prayer,
From that hard she whom I obey,
I come, and find a nymph much gentler here,
That gives consent to all I say.

Ah, gentle nymph! who lik'st so well

In hollow, solitary caves to dwell;

Her heart being such, into it go,

And do but once from thence answer me so!

Complaisant nymph! who dost thus kindly share
In griefs whose cause thou dost not know;
Hadst thou but eyes, as well as tongue and ear,
How much compassion wouldst thou show!
Thy flame, whilst living, or a flower,
Was of less beauty, and less ravishing power.
Alas! I might as easily

Paint thee to her, as describe her to thee.

By repercussion beams engender fire;
Shapes by reflection shapes beget;
The voice itself, when stopt, does back retire,
And a new voice is made by it.

Thus things by opposition

The gainers grow; my barren love alone

Does from her stony breast rebound,

Producing neither image, fire, nor sound.

THE RICH RIVAL.

THEY say you're angry, and rant mightily,
Because I love the same as you:

Alas! you're very rich, 't is true;
But, pr'ythee, fool! what's that to Love and me?
You'ave land and money, let that serve;

And know you 'ave more by that than

you

deserve.

When next I see my fair-one, she shall know
How worthless thou art of her bed;

And, wretch! I'll strike thee dumb and dead,
With noble verse not understood by you;
Whilst thy sole rhetorick shall be
"Jointure" and "jewels," and " our friends agree."

Pox o' your friends, that dote and domineer !
Lovers are better friends than they :

Let's those in other things obey;

The Fates, and Stars, and Gods, must govern here. Vain names of blood! in love let none

Advise with any blood, but with their own.

"T is that which bids me this bright maid adore ; No other thought has had access!

Did she now beg, I'd love no less,

And, were she an empress, I should love no more: Were she as just and true to me,

Ah, simple soul! what would become of thee?

AGAINST HOPE.

HOPE! whose weak being ruin'd is,
Alike, if it succeed, and if it miss ;
Whom good or ill does equally confound,
And both the horns of Fate's dilemma wound :
Vain shadow !-which dost vanish quite,
Both at full noon and perfect night!

The stars have not a possibility

Of blessing thee;

If things then from their end we happy call, 'Tis Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.

Hope! thou bold taster of delight,

Who, whilst thou shouldst but taste, devour'st it quite!

Thou bring'st us an estate, yet leav'st us poor,
By clogging it with legacies before!

The joys which we entire should wed,
Come deflower'd virgins to our bed;
Good fortunes without gain imported be,
Such mighty custom 's paid to thee.
For joy, like wine, kept close does better taste;
If it take air before, its spirits waste.

Hope! Fortune's cheating lottery!

Where for one prize an hundred blanks there be; Fond archer, Hope! who tak'st thy aim so far, That still or short or wide thine arrows are!

Thin, empty cloud, which th' eye deceives
With shapes that our own fancy gives!
A cloud, which gilt and painted now appears,
But must drop presently in tears!

When thy false beams o'er Reason's light prevail,
By Ignes Fatui for North-stars we sail.

Brother of Fear, more gayly clad!

The merrier fool o' th' two, yet quite as mad:
Sire of Repentance! child of fond Desire!
That blow'st the chemics', and the lovers', fire,
Leading them still insensibly on

By the strange witchcraft of "Anon!"
By thee the one does changing Nature, through
Her endless labyrinths, pursue;

And th' other chases Woman, whilst she goes
More ways and turns than hunted Nature knows.

FOR HOPE.

HOPE! of all ills that men endure,

The only cheap and universal cure!

Thou captive's freedom, and thou sick man's health! Thou loser's victory, and thou beggar's wealth! Thou manna, which from heaven we eat,

To every taste a several meat!

Thou strong retreat! thou sure-entail'd estate,
Which nought has power to alienate!

Thou pleasant, honest flatterer! for none
Flatter unhappy men, but thou alone!

Hope! thou first-fruits of happiness! Thou gentle dawning of a bright success! Thou good preparative, without which our joy Does work too strong, and, whilst it cures, destroy! Who out of Fortune's reach dost stand,

And art a blessing still in hand!

Whilst thee, her earnest-money, we retain,
We certain are to gain,

Whether she' her bargain break, or else fulfil;
Thou only good, not worse for ending ill!

Brother of Faith! 'twixt whom and thee The joys of heaven and earth divided be! Though Faith be heir, and have the fixt estate, Thy portion yet in moveables is great. Happiness itself's all one

In thee, or in possession!

Only the future 's thine, the present his !
Thine's the more hard and noble bliss:

Best apprehender of our joys! which hast
So long a reach, and yet canst hold so fast!

Hope thou sad lovers' only friend!

Thou Way, that mayst dispute it with the End!
For Love, I fear, 's a fruit that does delight
The taste itself less than the smell and sight.
Fruition more deceitful is

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