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MAIDENHEAD. Ir gave a piteolis groan, and so it broke ; Thom worst estate ev'n of the sex that's worst; In vain it something would have spoke:
Therefore by Nature made at first The love within too strong for't was,
T'attend the weakness of our birth! Like poison put into a Venice-glass.
Slight outward curtain to the puptial bed! I thought that this some remedy might prore ;
Thou case to buildings not yet finished ! But oh, the mighty serpent Love,
Who, like the centre of the Earth, Cut by this chance in pieces small,
Dost heaviest things attract to thee, In all still liv'd, and still it stung in all.
Though thou a point imaginary be! And now, alas ! each little broken part
A thing God thought for mankind so unfit, Feels the whole pain of all my heart;
That his first blessing ruin'd it. And every smallest corner still
Cold, frozen nurse of fiercest fires ! Lives with that torment which the whole did kill. Who, like the parched plains of Afric's sand, Even so rude armies, when the field they quit,
(A sterile, and a wild unlovely land!) And into several quarters get;
Art always scorch'd with hot desires,
Yet barren quite, didst thou not bring Each troop does spoil and ruin more
Monsters and serpents forth thyself to sting! Than all join'd in one body did before.
Thou that bewitchest men, whilst thou dost dwell How many loves reign in my bosom now !
Like a close conjurer in his cell, How many loves, yet all of you!
And fear'st the day's discovering eye! Thus have I chang'd with evil fate
No wonder 'tis at all that thou should'st be My monarch-love into a tyrant-state.
Such tedious and unpleasant company,
Who liv'st so melancholily!
Thou thing of subtile, slippery kind,
Which women lose, and yet no man can find !
Yet I 'm resolv'd to search for thee; Till I had given myself to thee;
The search itself rewards the pains : But thou hast kept me slave and prisoner since. So, though the chymnic bis great secret miss,
Well, since so insolent thou’rt grown, (For neither it in art nor Nature is)
And does his charge and labour pay
With good unsought experiments by the way. Part of my heart by gift did to thee fall;
Say what thou wilt, chastity is no more
Thee, than a porter is his door.
In vain to honour they pretend, (walls; But thou, their covetous neighbour, draw'st out Who guard themselves with rainparts and with all:
Them only Fame the truly valiant calls, Nay more; thou mak'st me worship thee, Who can an open breach defend. And would'st the rule of my religion be:
Of thy quick loss can be no doubt, Did ever tyrant claim such power as you, Within so hated, and so lov'd without.
To be both emperor and pope too? The public miseries, and my private fate, Deserve some tears; but greedy thou
IMPOSSIBILITIES ! oh no, there's none;
Could mine bring thy heart captive home, Though the sole cause of most of them thou art;
As easily other dangers were o'erthrown,
As Cæsar, 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 end at last does give:
At last, just men and lovers always thrive.
So thy heart in conjunction with mine
Shall our own förtuves regulate;
And to our stars themselves prescribe a fate.
'Twould grieve me much to find some buld roBut all pains eminently lie in thee!
That should two kind examples shew,
But none should fancy more, than I would do.
Through spite of our worst enemies, thy friends; In things where fancy much does reign,
Through local banishment from thee; (ends, 'Tis dangerous too cunningly to feign;
And custom into Nature go:
Lame, with counterfeiting lame.
My lines of amorons desire
And 'twas a barbarous delight
But now, by love, the mighty Phalaris, I
My burning Bull the first do try.
And still the taper let me espy:
NEVER yet could see that face
Which had no dart for me;
From fifteen years, to fifty's space,
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; Than 'tis for her to save and ransom it.
If all fail, yet 'tis woman-kind;
And I 'm so weak, the pistol need not be
Double or treble charg'd tu murder me.
If tall, the name of Proper slays;
If fair, she's pleasant as the light;
It low, her prettiness does please ;
If black, what lover loves not night?
If yellow-hair’d, 1 love, lest it should be
The fat, like plenty, fills my heart;
The lean, with love mal.es me too so :
If straight, her body's Cupid's klart
To me; if croo, ed, 'tis his bow:
Nay, age itself does me to rage incline,
And strength to women gives, as well as wines If any end or stop of it be found,
Just half as large as Charity We know the food runs still, though under My richly-landed Love's become; ground.
And, judg'd aright, is Constancy,
Though it take up a larger room:
Him, who loves always one, why should they call THE DISSEMBLER:
More constant than the man loves always all ?
Thus with unwearied wings I fee Uxuuht, untouch'd, did I complain,
Through all Love's gardens and his fields; And terrify'd all others with the pain :
And, like the wise, industrious bee, But now I feel the mighty evil;
No weed but honey to me yields! Ah ! there's no fooling with the Devil ! Honey still spent this diligence still supplies, So; wanton men, whilst others they would fright, Though I return not home with laden thighs. Themselves have met a real sprite.
My soul at first indeed did prove I thought, I'll swear, an handsome lye
Of pretty strength against a dart, Had been no sin at all in poetry;
Tll I this habit got of love; But now I suffer an arrest,
But my consum'd and wasted aeart, For words were spoke by me in jest.
Once burnt to tinder with a strong desire, Dull, sottish god of love! and can it be
Since that, by every spark is set on fire. Thou understand'st not raillery?
Darts, and wounds, and Same, and heat,
Great and wise conqueror, who, where'er
Thou com'st, dost fortify, and settle there!
Who canst defend as well as yet,
Ah, charming maid! let not Ill-fortune see And never hadst one quarter beat-up yet ;
Th' attire thy sorrow wears, Now thou art in, thon ne'er wilt part
Nor know the beauty of thy tears; With one inch of my vanquish'd heart; For she 'll still come to dress herself in thee. For, since thou took'st it by assault from me,
As stars reflect on waters, so I spy "Tis garrison'd so strong with thoughts of thce It fears no beauteous enemy.
In every drop, methinks, ber eye.
The baby, which lives there, and always plays Had thy charming strength been less,
In that illustrious sphere, I’ad serv'd ere this an hundred mistresses:
Like a Narcissus does appear, I'm better thus, nor would compound
Whilst in his flood the lovely boy did gaze. To leave my prison to be a vagabond;
Ne'er yet did I behold such glorious weather, A prison in which I still would be,
As this sun-shine and rain together. Though every door stood ope to me.
Pray Heaven her forehead, that pure hill of snow, In spite both of thy coldness and thy pride,
(For some such fountain we must find, All love is marriage on thy lover's side,
To waters of so fair a kind) For only death can them divide.
Melt not, to feed that beauteous stream below! Close, narrow chain, yet soft and kind
Ah, mighty Love! that it were inward heat As that which spirits above to good does bind,
Which made this precious limbcck sweat! Gentle and sweet Necessity,
But what, alas ! ah, what does it avail, Which dues not force, but guide, our liberty!
That she weeps tears so wondrous cold,
As scarce the ass's hoof can hold,
So cold, that I admire they fall not hail?
A curse on all discretion !
This barbarous term you will not meet
In all Love's lexicon. With more than Jewish reverence as yet
Jointure, portion, gold, estate, Do I the sacred name conceal;
Houses, household-stuff, or land, When, ye kind stars, ah when will it be fit
(The low conveniences of Pate) This gentle mystery to reveal ?
Are Greek no lovers understand.
Believe me, beauteous one! when love
Enters into a breast.
The two first things it does remove
Are friends and interests.
Passion 's half blind, nor can endure
The careful, scrupulous eyes; Laid down by her, ere taken up by me.
Or else I could not love, I'm sure,
One who in love were wise.
Men, in such tempests tost about,
Will, without grief or pain,
Cast all their goods and riches out,
Themselves their port to gain. And softly whisper 't to some angel's ear. As well might martyrs, who do choose Then shall thy name through all my verse be
That sacred death to take, spread,
Mourn for the cloaths which they must lose, Thick as the flowers in meadows lie,
When they 're bound naked to the stake And, when in future times they shall be read,
(As sure, I think, they will not die) If any critic doubt that they be mine,
Whereon thy doubts to place;
Nor by a low suspect blaspheme
The glories of thy face.
Alas! she makes thee shine so fair,
So exquisitely bright,
Before thy putent light.
Three hours each morn in dressing thee
Maliciously are spent;
That 's else a civil government
TH'adorning thee with so much art
I cut my love into his gentle Laik, Is but a barbarous skill;
And in three days, behold ! 'tis dead : 'Tis like the poisoning of a dart
My very written flames so violent be, Too apt before to kill.
They 've burnt and wither'd-up the tree. The ministering angels none can see ;
How should I live myself, whose heart is found 'Tis not their beauty or their face,
Deeply graven every where For which by men they worship'd be;
With the large history of many a wound, But their high office and their place.
Larger than thy trunk can bear? Thou art my goddess, my saint she;
With art as strange as Horner in the nut,
Love in my heart has volumes put.
The leaves and beauties all,
As a strong poison with one drop does make COUNSEL,
The nails and hairs to fall :
Love (I see now) a kind of witchcraft is,
Or characters could ne'er do this.
Pardon, ye birds and nymphs, who lov'd this To one that dies with thirst?
And pardon me, thou gentle tree; A little puff of breath, we find,
I thought her name would thee have bappy made, Small fires can quench and kill;
And blessed omens hop'd from thee: But, when they're great, the adverse wind
“ Notes of my love, thrive here,” said I, “ and Does make them greater still.
grow ; Now whilst you speak, it moves me much,
And with ye let my love do so.” But straight I 'm just the same;
Alas, poor youth! thy love will never thrive! Alas ! th’ effect must needs be such
This blast d tree predestines it; Of cutting through a flame.
Go, tie the dismal knot (why should'st thou live?)
And, by the lines thou there hust writ,
To that unlucky history.
Come, doctor! use thy roughest art,
Thou canst not cruel prove ; Cut, burn, and torture, every part,
To heal me of my love. There is no danger, if the pain
Should me to a fever bring; Compar'd with heats I now sustain,
A ferer is so cool a thing,
(Like drink which feverish men desire) That I should hope 'twould almost quench my
Ask me not what my love shall do or be
When I am separated from thee;
Alas! I might as easily show,
For 'tis the body of my love :
Not that my love will fly away,
'Tis a strange kind of ignorance this in you,
That you your victories should not spy,
Victories gotten by your eye!
Should kill, but not know how, nor who !
Whilst all the people smell and see
The odorous flames I offer thee,
Thy constant, zealous worshipper.
Nay, th' unconcern’d themselves do prove
Quick-ey'd enough to spy my love;
Than the effect appears in mine.
Must I, who with such restless care
Would make this truth to thee appear,
Damn'd by thy incredulity?
Oh, have but faith, and then, that you
May know that faith for to be true,
And raise me from the dead again!
But lovers' hopes are full of art,
And thus dispute-That, since my heart, Though in thy breast, yet is not by thee known,
Perhaps thou may’si not know thine ou
chose the Nourishing'st tree in all the park, With freshest boughs and fairest head;
HONOUR. Come, let's go on, where love and youth does She loves, and she confesses too;
I've seen too much, if this be all. [call; There's then, at last, no more to do: Alas ! how far more wealthy might I be
The happy work's entirely done; With a contented ignorant poverty !
Enter the town which thou hast won ; To show such stores, and nothing grant,
The fruits of conquest now begin; Is to enrage and vex my want.
lö, triumph! enter in. For Love to die an infant is lesser ill, Than to live long, yet live in childhood still. What's this, ye gods! what can it be?
Remains there still an enemy? We’ave both sat gazing only, hitherto,
Bold Honour stands up in the gate, As man and wife in picture do:
And would yet capitulate; The richest crop of joy is still behjud,
Have lo'ercome all real foes,
And shall this phantom me oppose ?
Noisy nothing ! stalking shade!
By what witchcraft wert thou made? And so at last, my dear, should you do too. Empty cause of solid harms !
But I shall find out counter-charms, Beauty to man the greatest torture is,
Thy airy devilship to remove
From this circle here of love.
Sure I shall rid myself of thee
By the night's obscurity, I would not, salamander-like,
And obscurer secrecy!
Unlike to every other sprite,
Nor appear'st but in the light.
And gently kisses every thing!
THE INNOCEVT ILL.
Then on the earth, with bridegroom-heat, Though all thy gestures and discourses bé He does still new flowers beget.
Coin'd and stamp'd by modesty; The Sun himself, although all eye he be,
Though from thy tongue ne'er slipp'd away Can find in love more pleasure than to see. One word which nuns at th' altar might not say;
Yet such a sweetness, such a grace,
That what to th’ eye a beauteous face,
That thy tongue is to th'ear:
So cunningly it wounds the heart, I try'D if books would cure my love, but found
It strikes such heat through every part, Love made them nonsense all ;
That thou a tempter worse than Satan art.
Though in thy thoughts scarce any tracks have
[been As well might men who in a fever fry,
Such charms thy beauty wears, as might Mathematic doubts debate;
Desires in dying confess'd saints excite: As well might men who mad in darkness lie,
Thou, with strange adultery, Write the dispatches of a state.
Dost in each breast a brothel keep; I try'd devotion, sermons, frequent prayer,
Awake, all men do lust for thee, But those did worse than useless prove;
And some enjoy thee when they sleep For prayers are turn'd to sin, in those who are Ne'er before did woman live, Out of charity, or in love.
Who to such multitudes did give
The root and cause of sin, but only Eve.
Though in thy breast so quick a pity be,
Though sarage and rock-hearted those
Appear, that weep not ev'n romance's woes; I try'd what mirth and gaiety would do,
Yet ne'er before was tyrant known, And mix'd with pleasant companies;
Whose rage was of so large extent; My mirth did graceless and insipid grow,
The ills thou dost are whole thine own; And 'bove a clinch it could not rise.
Thou’rt principal and instrument: Nay, God forgive me for't! at last I try'd,
In all the deaths that come from you, 'Gainst this, some new desire to stir,
You do the treble office do
Thou lovely instrument of angry Fate,
Tbou pleasant, universal ill, As wirolesome med'cines the disease improve Which, sweet as health, yet like a plague dost There where they work not well.