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Although I think thou never found wilt be,
Yet I’m resolv’d to search for thee;
The search itself rewards the pains:
So, though the chemick his great secret miss
(For neither it in Art nor Nature is)
Yet things well worth his toil he gains;
And does his charge and labour pay
With good unsought experiments by the way.

Say what thou wilt, chastity is no more
Thee, than a porter is his door.
In vain to honour they pretend,
Who guard themselves with ramparts and with walls;
Them only Fame the truly valiant calls,
Who can an open breach defend.
Of thy quick loss can be no doubt,
Within so hated, and so lov’d without.

IMPOSSIBILITIES.

IMPOSSIBILITIES 1 oh no, there's none;
Could mine bring thy heart captive home;

As easily other dangers were o'erthrown,
As Caesar, after vanquish'd Rome,

His little Asian foes did overcome.

True lovers oft by Fortune are envied;
Oft earth and hell against them strive;

But Providence engages on their side,
And a good gnd at last does give:

At last, just men and lovers always thrive.

As stars (not powerful else) when they conjoin,
Change, as they please, the world's estate;

So thy heart in conjunction with mine
Shall our own fortunes regulate;

And to our stars themselves prescribe a fate.

"Twould grieve me much to find some bold romance,
That should two kind examples shew,

Which before us in wonders did advance;
Not that I thought that story true,

But none should Fancy more, than I would Do.

Through spite of our worst enemies, thy friends; Through local banishment from thee;

Through the loud thoughts of less-concerning ends, As easy shall my passage be,

As was the amorous youth's o'er Helle's sea:

In vain the winds, in vain the billows, roar:
In vain the stars their aid deny'd;

He saw the Sestian tower on th' other shore;
Shall th’ Hellespont our loves divide

No, not the Atlantick ocean's boundless tide.
WOLe II, *

Such seas betwixt us easily conquer'd are;
But, gentle maid! do not deny

To let thy beams shine on me from afar;
And still the taper let me espy:

For, when thy light goes out, I sink and die.

SILENCE.

CURSE on this tongue, that has my heart betray'd,
And his great secret open laid :
For, of all persons, chiefly she
Should not the ills I suffer know;
Since ’tis a thing might dangerous grow,
Only in her to pity me:

Since 'tis for me to lose my life more fit,

Than 't is for her to save and ransom it.

Ah! never more shall thy unwilling ear
My helpless story hear;
Discourse and talk awake does keep
The rude unquiet pain
That in my breast does reign;
Silence perhaps may make it sleep :

I'll bind that sore up I did ill reveal;

The wound, if once it close, may chance to heal. '

No,'t will ne'er heal; my love will never die,
Though it should speechless lie,

A river, ere it meet the sea, As well might stay its source, As my love can his course, Unless it join and mix with thee: If any end or stop of it be found, We know the flood runs still, though under ground.

THE DISSEMBLER.

UNHURT, untouch'd, did I complain,
And terrify'd all others with the paint
But now I feel the mighty evil;
Ah! there’s no fooling with the devil
So, wanton men, whilst others they would fright,
Themselves have met a real sprite.

I thought, I’ll swear, an handsome lye
Had been no sin at all in poetry;
But now I suffer an arrest,
For words were spoke by me in jest.
Dull, sottish God of love 1 and can it be
Thou understandst not raillery

Darts, and wounds, and flame, and heat,
I nam'd but for the rhyme, or the conceit ;
Nor meant my verse should raised be
To this sad fame of prophesy:
Truth gives a dull propriety to my style,
And all the metaphors does spoil. .

In things where fancy much does reign,
"T is dangerous too cunningly to feign;
The play at last a truth does grow,
And Custom into Nature go;
By this curst art of begging I became
Lame with counterfeiting lame.

My lines of amorous desire
I wrote to kindle and blow others' fire;
And 't was a barbarous delight
My fancy promis'd from the sight:
But now, my Love, the mighty Phalaris, I
My burning Bull the first do try.

THE INCONSTANT.

I NEVER yet could see that face Which had no dart for me; From fifteen years, to fifty's space, They all victorious be. Love, thou'rt a devil, if I may call thee one; For sure in me thy name is Legion.

Colour, or shape, good limbs, or face,
Goodness, or wit, in all I find;

In motion or in speech a grace;
If all fail, yet 'tis woman-kind;

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