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LOOKING ON, AND DISCOURSING WITH, HIS MISTRESS.

THESE full two hours now have I gazing been,
What comfort by it can I gain?

To look on heaven with mighty gulfs between
Was the great miser's greatest pain;
So near was he to heaven's delight,
As with the blest converse he might,
Yet could not get one drop of water by 't.

Ah wretch! I seem to touch her now; but oh,
What boundless spaces do us part!
Fortune, and friends, and all earth's empty show,
My lowness, and her high desert:
But these might conquerable prove;
Nothing does me so far remove,

As her hard soul's aversion from my love.

So travellers, that lose their way by night,
If from afar they chance t espy
Th' uncertain glimmerings of a taper's light,
Take flattering hopes, and think it nigh;
Till, wearied with the fruitless pain,
They sit them down, and weep in vain,
And there in darkness and despair remain.

RESOLVED TO LOVE.

I WONDER what the grave and wise

Think of all us that love;

Whether our pretty

fooleries

Their mirth or anger move :

They understand not breath that words does want; Our sighs to them are insignificant.

One of them saw me, th' other day,

Touch the dear hand which I admire;

My soul was melting strait away,

And dropt before the fire:

This silly wise-man, who pretends to know,
Ask'd why I look'd so pale, and trembled so

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Saw me with eyes all watry come; Nor could-the hidden cause explore,

But thought some smoke was in the room : Such ignorance from unwounded learning came; He knew tears made by smoke, but not by flame.

If learn'd in other things you be,

And have in love no skill,

For God's sake keep your arts from me,

For I'll be ignorant still:

Study or action others may embrace;

My love's my business, and my books her face.

These are but trifles, I confess,

Which me, weak mortal! move; Nor is your busy-seriousness

Less trifling than my love:

The wisest king, who from his sacred breast
Pronounc'd all vanity, chose it for the best.

MY FATE.

GO bid the needle his dear North forsake,

To which with trembling reverence it does bend; Go bid the stones a journey upwards make;

Go bid th' ambitious flame no more ascend: And, when these false to their own motions prove, Then shall I cease thee, thee alone, to love.

The fast-link'd chain of everlasting Fate

Does nothing tie more strong than me to you; My fixt love hangs not on your love or hate, But will be still the same, whate'er you do: You cannot kill my love with your disdain ; Wound it you may, and make it live in pain.

Me, mine example, let the Stoicks use,
Their sad and cruel doctrine to maintain;

Let all predestinators me produce,

Who struggle with eternal bonds in vain : This fire I'm born to-but 't is she must tell, Whether 't be beams of heaven or flames of hell.

You, who men's fortunes in their faces read,
To find out mine, look not, alas! on me;
But mark her face, and all the features heed;
For only there is writ my destiny:

Or, if stars shew it, gaze not on the skies;
But study the astrology of her eyes.

If thou find there kind and propitious rays,
What Mars or Saturn threaten I'll not fear;
I well believe the fate of mortal days

Is writ in heaven; but oh, my heaven is there. What can men learn from stars they scarce can see? Two great lights rule the world, and her two, me.

IT

THE HEART BREAKING.

gave a piteous groan, and so it broke; In vain it something would have spoke: The love within too strong for 't was, Like poison put into a Venice-glass.

I thought that this some remedy might prove;
But oh, the mighty serpent Love,

Cut by this chance in pieces small,

In all still liv'd, and still it stung in all.

And now, alas! each little broken part
Feels the whole pain of all my heart;

And every smallest corner still

Lives with the torment which the whole did kill.

Even so rude armies, when the field they quit,

And into several quarters get;

Each troop does spoil and ruin more Than all join'd in one body did before.

How many Loves reign in my bosom now!
How many loves, yet all of you!

Thus have I chang'd with evil fate
My Monarch-love into a Tyrant-state.

THE USURPATION.

THOU 'adst to my soul no title or pretence;

I was mine own, and free,

Till I had given myself to thee;

But thou hast kept me slave and prisoner since.
Well, since so insolent thou 'rt grown,
Fond tyrant! I'll depose thee from thy throne;
Such outrages must not admitted be

In an elective monarchy.

Part of my heart by gift did to thee fall;
My country, kindred, and my best
Acquaintance; were to share the rest;

But thou, their covetous neighbour, drav'st out all:

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