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Shall a woman's virtues move
Me to perish for her love?
Or her well-deservings known,
Make me quite forget mine own?
Be she with that goodness bleft
Which

may

merit name of best; If she be not kind to me, What care I how good she be?

'Cause her fortune seems too high,
Shall I play the fool and die?
Those that bear a noble mind
Where they want of riches find,
Think what with them they would do,
Who without them dare to woo;

And unless that mind I see,
What care I how great she be?

Great or good, or kind or fair,
I will ne'er the more despair;
If she love me, this believe,
I will die e'er she shall grieve;
If she Night me when I woo,
I can scorn and let her go;

If she be not fit for me,
What care I for whom she be?

AMARYLLIS I did woo,
And I courted Phillis too;
Daphne for her love I chose;
Chloris, for that damask rose
In her cheek, I held as dear,
Yea, a thousand liked, well-near;
And, in love with all together,
Feared the enjoying either;
'Cause to be of one possess’d,
Barr'd the hope of all the rest.

Lordly gallants, tell me this:

Though my fafe content you weigh not,
In your greatness what one bliss
Have you gain’d, that I enjoy not?

You have honours, you have wealth,
I have peace, and I have health ;
All the day I merry make,
And at night no care I take.

2

Bound to none my fortunes be;

This or that man's fall I fear not;
Him I love that loveth me;
For the rest a pin I care not.

You are sad when others chafe,
And grow merry as they laugh ;
I, that hate it, and am free,
Laugh and weep as pleaseth me.

WANTONS! 'tis not your sweet eyings,
Forced pasfions, feigned dyings,
Gestures, temptings, tears, beguilings,
Dancings, fingings, kissings, smilings,
Nor those painted sweets, with which
You unwary men bewitch,
(All united, nor asunder)
That can compass such a wonder,
Or to win you love prevail,
Where her moving virtues fail.

Beauties! 'tis not all those features Placed in the fairest creatures, Though their best they should discover, That can tempt, from her, a lover. 'Tis not those soft snowy breasts, Where love, rock'd by pleasure, rests, Nor the nectar that we sip From a honey-dropping lip; Nor those

eyes whence beauty's lances Wound the heart with wanton glances ; Nor those fought delights, that lie In love's hidden treasury, That can liking gain, where she Will the best-beloved be.

For, should those who think they may Draw

my

love from her away,

Bring forth all their female graces,
Wrap me in their close embraces ;
Practise all the arts they may,
Weep, or fing, or kiss, or pray ;
One poor thought of her would arm me
So as Circe could not harm me.
Since, besides those excellencies,
Wherewith others charm the senses,
She whom I have praised fo,
Yields delight for reason too.
Who could doat on thing so common,
As mere outward-handsome woman ?
Those half-beauties only win
Fools to let affection in.
Vulgar wits, from reason shaken,
Are with such impoftures taken ;
And, with all their art in love,
Wantons can but wantons move.

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PHILARETE TO HIS MISTRESS.

Hail! thou fairest of all creatures

Upon whom the sun doth shine; Model of all rarest features,

And perfection most divine: Thrice, all hail! and blessed be Those that love and honour thee.

Though a stranger to the mufes,

Young, observed, and despised, Yet, such art thy love infufes,

That I thus have poetized. Read, and be content to fee Thy admired pow'r in me.

On this glass of thy perfection

If that any woman pry,
Let them thereby take direction

To adorn themselves thereby :
And if ought amiss they view,
Let them dress themselves anew.

This thy picture, therefore how I,

Naked, unto every eye ; Yet no fear of rival know I,

Neither touch of jealousy; For, the more make love to thee, I the more shall pleased be.

I am no Italian lover,

That will mew thee in a jail;
But thy beauty I discover,

English-like, without a veil.
If thou may'st be won away,
Win and wear thee he who may.

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