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She must be angry, sure, if I should be
So bold to ask her to make me,
By being hers, happier than she!
I will not; 't is a milder fate
To fall by her not loving, than her hate,

And yet this death of mine, I fear,
Will ominous to her appear;

When, sound in every other part,
Her sacrifice is found without an heart;
For the last tempest of my death

Shall sigh out that too with my breath. Then shall the world my noble ruin see, Some pity and some envy me;

Then she herself, the mighty she,

Shall grace my funerals with this truth; ""T was only Love destroy'd the gentle youth!"

THE MONOPOLY.

WHAT mines of sulphur in my breast do lie,
That feed th' eternal burnings of my heart!
Not Ætna flames more fierce or constantly,
The sounding shop of Vulcan's smoky art:
Vulcan his shop has placed there,
And Cupid's forge is set-up here.

Here all those arrows' mortal heads are made,
That fly so thick unseen through yielding air;
The Cyclops here, which labour at the trade,
Are Jealousy, Fear, Sadness, and Despair.
Ah, cruel God! and why to me
Gave you this curst monopoly?

I have the trouble, not the gains, of it :-
Give me but the disposal of one dart,
And then (I'll ask no other benefit)
Heat as you please your furnace in

my

So sweet's revenge to me, that I,
Upon my foe wou'd gladly die.

heart:

Deep into' her bosom would I strike the dart,
Deeper than woman e're was struck by thee;
Thou giv'st them small wounds, and so far from

th' heart,

They flutter still about, inconstantly:

Curse on thy goodness, whom we find
Civil to none but woman-kind!

Vain God! who woman dost thyself adore!
Their wounded hearts do still retain the powers
To travel and to wander, as before:

Thy broken arrows 'twixt that sex and ours
So' unjustly are distributed,

They take the feathers, we the head.

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THE DISTANCE.

I'VE followed thee a year, at least,
And never stopp'd myself to rest;
But yet can thee o'ertake no more
Than this day can the day that went before

In this our fortunes equal prove
To stars, which govern them above;
Our stars, that move for ever round,
With the same distance still betwixt them found.

In vain, alas! in vain I strive
The wheel of Fate faster to drive;
Since, if around it swiftlier fly,
She in it mends her pace as much as I.

Hearts by Love strangely shuffled are, That there can never meet a pair! Tamelier than worms are lovers slain; The wounded heart ne'er turns, to wound again.

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THE INCREASE.

I THOUGHT, I'll swear, I could have lov'd no more

Than I had done before;

But you as easily might account Till to the top of numbers you amount, As cast up my love's score.

Ten thousand millions was the sum ; Millions of endless millions are to come.

I'm sure her beauties cannot greater grow;
Why should my love do so?

A real cause at first did move;
But mine own fancy now drives-on my love,
With shadows from itself that flow.

My love, as we in numbers see,

By cyphers is increas'd eternally.

So the new-made and untry'd spheres above
Took their first turn from th' hand of Jove;
But are, since that beginning, found

By their own forms to move for ever round.
All violent motions short do prove;
But, by the length, 't is plain to see
That Love's a motion natural to me.

LOVE'S VISIBILITY.

WITH much of pain, and all the art I knew,

Have I endeavour'd hitherto

To hide my love, and yet all will not do.

The world perceives it, and, it may be, she; Though so discreet and good she be,

By hiding it, to teach that skill to me.

Men without love have oft so cunning grown,

That something like it they have shown; But none who had it ever seem'd t' have none.

Love's of a strangely open, simple kind,
Can no arts or disguises find,

But thinks none sees it 'cause itself is blind.

The very eye betrays our inward smart;
Love of himself left there a part,
When thorough it he past into the heart.

Or if by chance the face betray not it,
But keep the secret wisely, yet,

Like drunkenness, into the tongue 't will get.

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