Doft thou deny only to me
The no-great privilege of captivity?
I beg or challenge here thy bow;
Either thy pity to me, or else thine anger, show.
Come! or I'll teach the world to fcorn that bow:
I'll teach them thousand wholesome arts.
Both to refift and cure thy darts,
More than thy skilful Ovid e'er did know.
Mufick of fighs thou shalt not hear,
Nor drink one wretched lover's tafteful tear:
Nay, unless foon thou woundest me,
My verses shall not only wound, but murder, thee.
CAME, I saw, and was undone ;
Lightning did through my bones and marrow run;
A pointed pain pierc'd deep my heart;
A swift cold trembling feiz'd on every part;
My head turn'd round, nor could it bear
The poison that was enter'd there.
So a destroying-angel's breath
Blows-in the plague, and with it hasty death :
Such was the pain, did so begin,
To the poor wretch, when Legion enter'd in.
Forgive me, God !" I cry'd; " for I
"Flatter'd myself I was to die."
But quickly to my coft I found,
'Twas cruel Love, not Death, had made the wound:
Death a more generous rage does ufe;
Quarter to all he conquers does refufe:
Whilft Love with barbarous mercy faves
The vanquish'd lives, to make them flaves.
I am thy flave then; let me know,
Hard master! the great task I have to do :
Who pride and fcorn do undergo,
In tempefts and rough feas thy galleys row;
They pant, and groan, and figh; but find
Their fighs increase the angry wind.
Like an Egyptian tyrant, fome
Thou wearieft out in building but a tomb;
Others, with fad and tedious art,
Labour i' th' quarries of a ftony heart:
Of all the works thou doft affign,
To all the feveral flaves of thine,
Employ me, mighty Love! to dig the mine.
"LL on; for what should hinder me
From loving and enjoying thee?
Thou canst not thofe exceptions make,
Which vulgar, fordid mortals take—
That my fate's too mean and low;
"Twere pity I fhould love thee fo,
For that, Sirs, you must pardon me.
Rather than lofe what does fo near
Concern my life and being here,
I'll fome fuch crooked ways invent,
As you, or your forefathers, went:
I'll flatter or oppose the king,
Turn Puritan, or any thing;
I'll force my mind to arts fo new :
Grow rich, and love as well as you.
But rather thus let me remain,
As man in paradife did reign;
When perfect love did fo agree
With innocence and poverty.
Adam did no jointure give;
Himself was jointure to his Eve :
Untouch'd with avarice yet, or pride,
The rib came freely back t' his fide."
A curfe upon the man who taught
Women, that love was to be bought;
Q2
Rather doat only on your gold,
And that with greedy avarice hold;
For, if woman too submit
To that, and fell herself for it,
Fond lover! you a mistress have
What should thofe poets mean of old,
That made their God to wooe in gold?
Of all men, fure, they had no caufe
To bind love to fuch coftly laws;
And yet I scarcely blame them now;
For who, alas! would not allow,
That women should such gifts receive,
Could they, as he, be what they give.
If thou, my dear, thyfelf fhouldft prize,
Alas! what value would fuffice?
The Spaniard could not do 't, though he
Should to both Indies jointure thee.
Thy beauties therefore wrong will take,
If thou shouldst any bargain make;
To give all, will befit thee well;
But not at under-rates to fell.
Beftow thy beauty then on me,
Freely, as nature gave 't to thee
"Tis an exploded popish thought
To think that heaven may be bought.
Prayers, hymns, and praises, are the ways,
And those
my thankful Muse shall pay:
Thy body, in my verfe enfhrin'd,
Shall grow immortal as thy mind.
I'll fix thy title next in fame
To Sachariffa's well-fung name.
So faithfully will I declare
What all thy wondrous beauties are,
That when, at the laft great affize,
All women shall together rife,
Men ftrait shall caft their eyes on thee,
And know at firft that thou art she.
HOUGH you be abfent here, I needs muft fay
The trees as beauteous are, and flowers as gay,
As ever they were wont to be;
Nay, the birds' rural mufick too
"Is as melodious and free,
As if they fung to pleasure you:
I faw a rofe-bud ope this morn-I'll fwear
The blushing morning open'd not more fair.
How could it be fo fair, and you away?
How could the trees be beauteous, flowers fo gay?
Could they remember but last year,
How you did them, they you, delight,
The fprouting leaves which faw you here,
And call'd their fellows to the fight,
Word, looking round for the same fight in vain,.
Creep back into their filent barks again.
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