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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 !
Thou 'adst to my soul no title or pretence; Although I think thou never found wilt be,
I was mine own, and free,

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)
Fond tyrant! I'll depose thee from thy throne; Yet things well worth his toil he gains;
Such outrages must not admitted be

And does his charge and labour pay
In an elective monarchy.

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
My country, kindred, and my best

Thee, than a porter is his door.
Acquaintance, were to share the rest;

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

(Insatiate majd!) wilt not allow

IMPOSSIBILITIES ! oh no, there's none;
That I one drop from thee should alienate:
Nor wilt thou grant my sins a part,

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,
Counting my tears thy tribute and thy due,

His little Asian foes did overcome.
Since first mine eyes I gave to you.

True lovers oft by Fortune are envied ;
Thou all my joys and all my hopes dust claim;
Thou ragest like a fire in me,

Oft Earth and Hell against them strive ;

But Providence engages on their side,
Converting all things into thee;

And a good end at last does give:
Nought can resist, or not increase the flame :
Nay, every grief and etery fear

At last, just men and lovers always thrive.
Thou dost devour, unless thy stamp it bear: As stars (not powerful else) when they conjoin,
Thy presence, like the crowned basilisk's breath, Change, as they please, the world's estate;
All other serpents puts to death.

So thy heart in conjunction with mine

Shall our own förtuves regulate;
As men in Hell are from diseases free,
So from all other ills am l;

And to our stars themselves prescribe a fate.
Free from their known formality:

'Twould grieve me much to find some buld roBut all pains eminently lie in thee!

Alas, alas! I hope in vain

That should two kind examples shew,
My conquer'd soul from out thine hands to gain ; Which before us in wonders did advance;
Since all the natives there thou ’ast overthrown, Not that I thought that story true,
And planted garrisons of thine own.

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;
Through the loud thoughts of less-concerning The play at last a truth does grow,
As easy shall my passage be,

And custom into Nature go:
As was the amorous youth's o'er Helle's sea : By this curst art of begging I became
In rain the winds, in vain the billows, roar;

Lame, with counterfeiting lame.
In vain the stars their aid deny'd ;

My lines of amorons desire
He saw the Sestian tower on th’ other shore: I wrote to kindle and blow others' fire ;
Shall th' Hellespont our loves divide?

And 'twas a barbarous delight
No, not the Atlantic ocean's boundless tide. My fancy promis'd from the sight :
Such seas betwixt us easily conquer'd are;

But now, by love, the mighty Phalaris, I
But, gentle maid! do not deny

My burning Bull the first do try.
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.



NEVER yet could see that face

Which had no dart for me;

From fifteen years, to fifty's space,
Curse on this tongue,that has my heart betray'd, They all victorious be.
And his great secret open laid!

Love, thou 'rt a devil, if I may call thee one ;
Por, of all persons, chiefly she

For sure in me thy name is Legion.
Should not the ills I suffer know;
Since 'tis a thing might dangerous grow,

Colour, or shape, good limbs, or face,
Only in her to pity me:

Goodness, or wit, in all I find;
Since 'tis for me to lose my life more fit,

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
Ah! never more shall thy unwilling ear

Double or treble charg'd tu murder me.
My helpless story hear;
Discourse and talk awake does keep

If tall, the name of Proper slays;
The rude unquiet pain

If fair, she's pleasant as the light;
That in my breast does reign;

It low, her prettiness does please ;
Silence perhaps may make it sleep :

If black, what lover loves not night?
Í 'n bind that sore up I did ill reveal;

If yellow-hair’d, 1 love, lest it should be
The wound, if once it close, may chance to heal. Th’excuse to others for not loving me.
No, 'twill ne'er heal; my love will never die,

The fat, like plenty, fills my heart;
Though it should speechless lie.

The lean, with love mal.es me too so :
A river, ere it meet the sea,

If straight, her body's Cupid's klart
As well might stay its source,

To me; if croo, ed, 'tis his bow:
As my love can his course,

Nay, age itself does me to rage incline,
Unless it join and mix with thee :

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,
I nam'd but for the rhyme, or the conceit;
Nor meant my verse should raised be

To th's sad fame of prophesy :
Truth gives a dull propriety to my style,

Great and wise conqueror, who, where'er
And all the metaphors does spoil.

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,
Your love on me were spent in vain,

As scarce the ass's hoof can hold,
Since my love still could but remain
Just as it is; for what, alas! can be

So cold, that I admire they fall not hail?
Added to that which hath infinity
Both in extent and quality?

DISCRÉET! what means this word discreet ?

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.
When will our love be nam'd, and we possess
That christening as a badge of happiness?

Believe me, beauteous one! when love

Enters into a breast.
So bold as yet no verse of mine has been,

The two first things it does remove
To wear that gem on any line;

Are friends and interests.
Nor, till the happy nuptial Muse be seen,
Shall any stanza with it shine.

Passion 's half blind, nor can endure
Rest, mighty name! till then; for thou must be

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.
Then all the fields and woods shall with it ring;
Then Echo's burthen it shall be ;

Men, in such tempests tost about,
Then all the birds in several notes shall sing,

Will, without grief or pain,
And all the rivers murmur, thee;

Cast all their goods and riches out,
Then every wind the sound shall upwards bear,

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,

Men by that stainp shall quickly know the coin. Tuy Maid! ah! find some nobler theme
Meanwhile I will not dareto make a name

Whereon thy doubts to place;
To represent thee by;

Nor by a low suspect blaspheme
Adam (God's nomenclator) could not frame

The glories of thy face.
One that enongh should signify:
Astrea or Celia as unfit would prove

Alas! she makes thee shine so fair,
For thee, as 'tis to call the Deity Jove.

So exquisitely bright,
That her dim lamp must disappear

Before thy putent light.

Three hours each morn in dressing thee

Maliciously are spent;
See where she sits, and in what comely wise And make that beauty tyranny,
Drops tears more fair than others' eyes !

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,
I pray to her, only to pray to thee,

Love in my heart has volumes put.
What a few words from thy rich stock did take

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,
Ag! what advice can I receive !

Or characters could ne'er do this.
No, satisfy me first;
For who would physic-potions give

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,
Deform’dly hanging, the sad picture be

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
(Love, which is soul to body, and soul of me !)

When I am separated from thee;

Alas! I might as easily show,
What after death the soul will do;
"Twill last, I'm sure, and that is all we know.
The thing call’d soul will never stir nor move,
But all that while a lifeless carcase prove;

For 'tis the body of my love :

Not that my love will fly away,
But still continue; as, they say,
Sad troubled ghosts about their graves do stray.

'Tis a strange kind of ignorance this in you,

That you your victories should not spy,

Victories gotten by your eye!
That your bright beams, as those of comets do,

Should kill, but not know how, nor who !
That truly you my idol might appear,

Whilst all the people smell and see

The odorous flames I offer thee,
Thou sitt'st, and dost not see, nor smell, nor hear,

Thy constant, zealous worshipper.
They see 't too well who at my fires repine ;

Nay, th' unconcern’d themselves do prove

Quick-ey'd enough to spy my love;
Nor does the cause in thy face clearlier shine,

Than the effect appears in mine.
Fair infidel! hy what unjust decree

Must I, who with such restless care

Would make this truth to thee appear,
Must I, who preach it, and pray for it, be

Damn'd by thy incredulity?
I, by thy unbelief, am guiltless slain :

Oh, have but faith, and then, that you

May know that faith for to be true,
It shall itself by a miracle maintain,

And raise me from the dead again!
Meanwhile my hopes may seem to be o'erthrown;

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 he who only sees, in love, is blind.

And shall this phantom me oppose ?
So, at first, Pygmalion lov'd,
But th' amour at last improv'd;

Noisy nothing ! stalking shade!
The Statue itself at last a woman grew,

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
Unless it lead to farther bliss,

From this circle here of love.
Beyond the tyrannous pleasnres of the eye ;
It grows too serious a cruelty,

Sure I shall rid myself of thee
Unless it heal, as well as strike:

By the night's obscurity, I would not, salamander-like,

And obscurer secrecy!
In scorching heats always to live desire,

Unlike to every other sprite,
But, like a martyr, pass to Heaven through fire. Thou attempt'st not men to fright,

Nor appear'st but in the light.
Mark how the lusty Sun salutes the Spring,

And gently kisses every thing!
His loving beams unlock each maiden flower,

Search all the treasures, all the sweets devour:

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,
In all thy speech appear,

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.
I apply'd receipts of business to my wound,
But stirring did the pain recall.

Though in thy thoughts scarce any tracks have
So much as of original sin,

[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.
I try'd in wine to drown the mighty care;
But wine, alas! was oil to th'fire;

Though in thy breast so quick a pity be,
Like drunkards' eyes, my troubled fancy there That a fy's death 's a wound to thee;
Did double the desire.

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
And lov'd again, but 'twas where I espy'd Of judge, of torturer, and of weapon too.
Some faint resemblances of her.

Thou lovely instrument of angry Fate,
The physic made me worse, with which I strove Which God did for our faults create !
This mortal ill t'expel;

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.


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