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LOVE'S VISIBILITY...LOOKING ON HIS MISTRESS.

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, 'tis 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 secs it 'cause itself is blind. The very eye betrays our inward smart :

Love of himself left there a part, When through 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 'twill get.

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 gulphs 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:

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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 straight 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? Another, from my mistress' door

Saw me with eyes all wat'ry 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 old 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 Stoics 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 'tis 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 show 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

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THE HEART-BREAKING. Ir 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.

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I thought that this some remedy might prove;
But ob, 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 that 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.

THO '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, draw'st out
all:

Nay more; thou mak'st me worship thee,
And would'st the rule of my religion be:
Did ever tyrant claim such power as you,
To be both emperor and pope too?
The public miseries, and my private fate,

Deserve some tears; but greedy thou (Insatiate maid!) wilt not allow That I one drop from thee should alienate: Nor wilt thou grant my sins a part, Though the sole cause of most of them thou art; Counting my tears thy tribute and thy due,

Since first mine eyes I gave to you.

Thou all my joys and all my hopes dost claim;
Thou ragest like a fire in me,
Converting all things into thee;
Nought can resist, or not increase the flame:
Nay, every grief and every fear
Thou dost devour, unless thy stamp it bear:
Thy presence, like the crowned basilisk's breath,
All other serpents puts to death.

As men in Hell are from diseases free,
So from all other ills am I ;
Free from their known formality!
But all pains eminently lie in thee!

Alas, alas! I hope in vain

My conquer'd soul from out thine hands to gain; Since all the natives there thou 'ast overthrown, And planted garrisons of thine own.

MAIDENHEAD.

THOU worst estate ev'n of the sex that's worst; Therefore by Nature made at first

T attend the weakness of our birth!
Slight outward curtain to the nuptial bed!
Thou case to buildings not yet finished!
Who, like the centre of the Earth,
Dost heaviest things attract to thee,
Though thou a point imaginary be!

A thing God thought for mankind so unfit,
That his first blessing ruin'd it.
Cold, frozen nurse of fiercest fires!
Who, like the parched plains of Afric's sand,
(A sterile, and a wild unlovely land!)

Art always scorch'd with hot desires,
Yet barren quite, didst thou not bring
Monsters and serpents forth thyself to sting!
Thou that bewitchest men, whilst thou dost dwell
Like a close conjurer in his cell,

And fear'st the day's discovering eye! No wonder 'tis at all that thou should'st be 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!
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 chymic 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

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Thee, than a porter is his door. In vain to honour they pretend, Who guard themselves with ramparts and with Them only Fame the truly valjant 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! oh no, there's none;
Could mine bring thy heart captive home,
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. 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 row

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Through spite of our worst enemies, thy friends;
Through local banishment from thee; [ends,
Through the loud thoughts of less-concerning
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 Atlantic ocean's boundless tide.
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 'tis 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, 'twill 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 pain: 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.

1 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! and can it be
Thou understand'st not raillery?

Darts, and wounds, and fame, 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,
'Tis 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 'twas a barbarous delight
My fancy promis'd from the sight:
But now, by 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; And I'm so weak, the pistol need not be Double or treble charg'd to murder me. If tall, the name of Proper slays;

If fair, she 's pleasant as the light; If low, her prettiness does please;

If black, what lover loves not night? If yellow-hair'd, I love, lest it should be Th' excuse to others for not loving me. The fat, like plenty, fills my heart; The lean, with love makes me too so: If straight, her body's Cupid's dart To me; if crooked, 'tis his bow: Nay, age itself does me to rage incline, And strength to women gives, as well as wine. Just half as large as Charity

My richly-landed Love's become; And, judg'd aright, is Constancy,

Though it take up a larger room:

Him, who loves always one, why should they call More constant than the man loves always all? Thus with unwearied wings I flee

Through all Love's gardens and his fields; And, like the wise, industrious bee,

No weed but honey to me yields! Honey still spent this diligence still supplies, Though I return not home with laden thighs.

My soul at first indeed did prove

Of pretty strength against a dart, Tll this habit got of love;

But my consum'd and wasted neart, Once burnt to tinder with a strong desire, Since that, by every spark is set on fire.

THE CONSTANT.

GREAT and wise conqueror, who, where'er Thou com'st, dost fortify, and settle there!

Who canst defend as well as get,
And never hadst one quarter beat-up yet;
Now thou art in, thou ne'er wilt part
With one inch of my vanquish'd heart;
For, since thon took'st it by assault from me,
'Tis garrison'd so strong with thoughts of thee
It fears no beauteous enemy.

Had thy charming strength been less,
I 'ad serv'd ere this an hundred mistresses:
I'm better thus, nor would compound
To leave my prison to be a vagabond;
A prison in which I still would be,
Though every door stood ope to me.
In spite both of thy coldness and thy pride,
All love is marriage on thy lover's side,
For only death can them divide.

Close, narrow chain, yet soft and kind
As that which spirits above to good does bind,
Gentle and sweet Necessity,
Which does not force, but guide, our liberty!
Your love on me were spent in vain,
Since my love still could but remain
Just as it is; for what, alas! can be
Added to that which hath infinity
Both in extent and quality?

HER NAMЕ.

WITH more than Jewish reverence as yet
Do I the sacred name conceal;
When, ye kind stars, ah when will it be fit
This gentle mystery to reveal?

When will our love be nam'd, and we possess
That christening as a badge of happiness?
So bold as yet no verse of mine has been,
To wear that gem on any line;

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

Rest, mighty name! till then; for thou must be
Laid down by her, ere taken up by me.
Then all the fields and woods shall with it ring;
Then Echo's burthen it shall be;
Then all the birds in several notes shall sing,
And all the rivers murmur, thee;
Then every wind the sound shall upwards bear,
And softly whisper 't to some angel's ear.
Then shall thy name through all my verse be
spread,

Thick as the flowers in meadows lie,
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 stamp shall quickly know the coin.

Meanwhile I will not dare to make a name

To represent thee by;

Adam (God's nomenclator) could not frame
One that enough should signify:
Astrea or Celia as unfit would prove
For thee, as 'tis to call the Deity Jove.

WEEPING.

SEE where she sits, and in what comely wise Drops tears more fair than others' eyes!

Ah, charming maid! let not Ill-fortune see
Th' attire thy sorrow wears,

Nor know the beauty of thy tears;

For she 'll still come to dress herself in thee.
As stars reflect on waters, so I spy

In every drop, methinks, her eye.
The baby, which lives there, and always plays
In that illustrious sphere,

Like a Narcissus does appear, Whilst in his flood the lovely boy did gaze. Ne'er yet did I behold such glorious weather, As this sun-shine and rain together. Pray Heaven her forehead, that pure hill of snow, (For some such fountain we must find, To waters of so fair a kind)

Melt not, to feed that beauteous stream below! Ah, mighty Love! that it were inward heat

Which made this precious limbeck sweat! But what, alas! ah, what does it avail,

That she weeps tears so wondrous cold,
As scarce the ass's hoof can hold,
So cold, that I admire they fall not hail ?

DISCRETION.

DISCREET! what means this word discreet?
A curse on all discretion!
This barbarous term you will not meet
In all Love's lexicon.
Jointure, portion, gold, estate,

Houses, household-stuff, or land, (The low conveniences of Fate)

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;
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.

As well might martyrs, who do choose
That sacred death to take,
Mourn for the cloaths which they must lose,
When they're bound naked to the stake.

THE WAITING-MAID.

THY Maid! ah! find some nobler theme
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,

That her dim lamp must disappear

Before thy potent light.

Three hours each morn in dressing thee Maliciously are spent;

And make that beauty tyranny,

That's else a civil government.

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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.

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I cut my love into his gentle back,

And in three days, behold! 'tis dead: My very written flames so violent be,

They 've burnt and wither'd-up the tree. How should I live myself, whose heart is found Deeply graven every where With the large history of many a wound,

Larger than thy trunk can bear? With art as strange as Homer in the nut, 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
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 shade;

And pardon me, thou gentle tree;

I thought her name would thee have happy made, And blessed omens hop'd from thee: "Notes of my love, thrive here," said 1, "and grow;

And with ye let my love do so."

Alas, poor youth! thy love will never thrive !
This blasted tree predestines it;

Go, tie the dismal knot (why should'st thou live?)
And, by the lines thou there hast writ,
Deform'dly hanging, the sad picture be
To that unlucky history.

HER UNBELIEF.

'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! by 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'st not know thine ow

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