How long a space fince first I lov'd it is! To look into a glass I fear; And am furpriz'd with wonder when I miss Th' old Patriarchs' age, and not their happiness too,. Sure thofe are happy people that complain If when your gift, long life, I difapprove, I too ingrateful seem to be ; Punish me justly, Heaven! make her to love, COUNSE E. ENTLY, ah gently, madam, touch GEN The wound which you yourself have made; That pain muft needs be very much, Which makes me of your hand afraid. Cordials of pity give me now, For I too weak for purgings grow.. Do but awhile with patience ftay (For counfel yet will do no good) "Till time, and reft, and Heaven, allay The violent burnings of my blood.; VOL. I.. S For For what effect from this can flow, Perhaps the phyfick 's good you give, But ne'er to me can useful prove; And I'm not sick, but dead in love. Ev'n thy diffuafions me perfuade, Thy tongue comes in, as if it meant Against thine eyes t' affift my heart; But different far was his intent, For ftrait the traitor took their part: And by this new foe I'm bereft The act, I muft confefs, was wife, Would be too strong for that and me; RE RESOLVED TO BE BELOVED IS true, I 'ave lov'd already three or four, And fhall three or four hundred more; Till I find one at last that shall love me. That fhall my Canaan be, the fatal foil : That ends my wanderings and my toil Then may my veffel torn and fhipwreck'd be, If it put forth again to fea! It never more abroad fhall roam, Though 't could next voyage bring the Indies home. But I must sweat in love, and labour yet, Till I a competency get; They 're flothful fools who leave a trade, Till they a moderate fortune by 't have made. Variety I ask not; give me one To live perpetually upon; The perfon Love does to us fit, Like manna, has the taste of all in it, THE F OR Heaven's fake, what d' you mean to do ?? The little time that Love does chufe: Let me be gone whilst yet 'tis day; In vain; till to love more as vain must prove ; Alas! 'tis folly to remain, And waste our army thus in vain, A thing that always flies from you; When it does hardness meet, and pride, THE BY Y Heaven, I'll tell her boldly that 'tis she ; The Gods may give their altars o'er; The lightning, which tall oaks oppose in vain, The humble furzes of the plain. She being fo high, and I fo low, Her power by this does greater fhow, Who at such distance gives fo fure a blow. *Compar'd with her, all things so worthless prove, That nought on earth can tow'rds her move, Till 't be exalted by her love. Equal to her, alas ! there 's none; She like a Deity is grown; That muft create, or elfe must be alone. If there be man who thinks himself fo high, As to pretend equality, He deferves her less than I ; For he would cheat for his relief; And one would give, with leffer grief, T'an undeferving beggar than a thief. |