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Of her diforder'd, wild, and wilful mate:
There mourns another her unhappy state,
Held ever in restraint, and in fufpect:
Another to her trusty confidant,
Laments how she is match'd to fuch a one
As cannot give a woman her content :
Another grieves how the hath got a fool,
Whose bed, altho' fhe loath, the muft endure:
And thus they all, unhappy by that means
Which they account would bring all happiness;
Most wealthily are plagu'd with rich distress.

Love is a fickness full of woes,

All remedies refusing ;

Daniel's Hymen's Triumph.

A plant that with most cutting grows,
Moft barren with beft ufing:

More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoy'd it fighing cries,
Hey, ho.

Love, is a torment of the mind,
A tempeft everlasting;

And Jove hath made it of a kind
Not well, nor full, nor fafting:
More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoy'd, it fighing cries,
Hey, ho

Ah, I remember well, and how can I
But evermore remember well, when first

Ibid

Our flame begun; when scarce we knew what was
The flame we felt: When as we fat and figh'd,
And look'd upon each other, and conceiv'd
Not what we ail'd; yet fomething we did ail;
And yet were well; and yet we were not well:
And what was our difeafe, we could not tell :
Then would we kifs, then figh, then look: And thus
In that first garden of our fimpleness

We spent our Childhood: But when years began
To reap the fruit of knowledge; ah how then
Would the with graver looks, with sweet stern brow,
Check my prefumption, and my forwardness,
Yet ftill would give me flow'rs; ftill would me fhew
What she would have me, yet not have me know.

Daniel's Hymen's Triumph.

Love is a joy which upon pain depends;
A drop of fweet, drown'd in a sea of fours;
What folly doth begin, oft fury ends;
They hate for ever, who have lov'd for hours.

E. of Sterline's Crafus.

Love spreads the wit to play, but not to arm;
Hath many feet to walk an easy pace,
Slow to miftruft, and never apt to harm.

Lord Brooke's Mustapha.

Reafon muft judge of love, not love of it;
Elfe fhall love ground of ev'ry mifchief be:
For murther, theft, adultery, and spight,
Are but love of revenge, and others right.

Lord Brooke's Alabam.

Art thou offended that thou art belov'd?
Remove the caufe, the effect is foon remov'd:
Indent with beauty how far to extend,

Set down defire a limit where to end;

Then charm thine eyes, that they no more may wound,
And limit love to keep within a bound:

If thou do this; nay, then thou shalt do more;
And bring to pafs, what never was before:
Make anguifh fportive, craving all delight:
Mirth folemn, fullen, and inclin❜d to night;
Ambition lowly; envy fpeaking well;
Love his relief for niggardife to fell.

Drayton's Black Prince to the Countess of Salisbury.

Love's but a card-play, all is loft

Unless you cog; he that packs beft, wins most.

Dekker's Wonder of a Kingdom.

Soul,

Soul, I must love her; destiny is weak to my affection, A common-love: Blufh not faint breast,

That which is ever lov'd of moft, is best;

Let colder eld the ftrong'ft objections move;
No love's without some luft, no life without fome love.
Marfion's Dutch Courtezan.
Still I'm thy captive, yet thy thoughts are free:.
To be love's bond-man, is true liberty.

Marfion's Infatiate Countess.

He that loveth many, if once known;

Is justly plagu'd to be belov❜d of none.

Marfion's Fawn.
Triumphant Cupid that fleeps on the foft cheek
Of rarest beauty; whofe throne's in ladies eyes;
Whofe force writh'd lightning from Jove's fhaking hand,
Forc'd ftrong Alcides to refign his club;

Pluck'd Neptune's trident from his mighty arm;
Unhelmed Mars; he, (with thefe trophies born,
Led in but floth, pride, plenty, drunkenness,
Follow'd by folly, war, flaughter, beggary)
Takes his fair throne.

I'll tell you just how long love's bred in the blood;
Profpers as long as beauty's in the bud :

When beauty withers, luftful love grows cold;
And ere it be half ripe, 'tis rotten old.

Ah what a trifle is a heart,

If once into love's hands it come !

All other griefs allow a part

Ibid.

Day's Law Tricks.

To others griefs, and ask themselves but fome. They come to us, but us love draws;

He swallows us, and never chaws :

By him, as by chain'd-fhot, whole ranks do die;
He is the tyrant pike, and we the fry.

15

Dr. Donne.

Perfection

Perfection is in unity. Prefer

upon

One woman firft, and then one thing in her.
I, when I value gold, may think
The ductileness, the application,
The wholefomnefs, the ingenuity,
From ruft, from foil, from fire, ever free:
But if I love it, 'tis because 'tis made
By our new nature, ufe, the foul of trade.

Dr. Donne.

goes

Whoever loves, if he do not propofe
The right true end of love; he's one that
To fee for nothing but to make him fick.
Love, is a bear-whelp born; if we o'er lick
Our love, and force it new strange shapes to take,
We err, and of a lump a monster make.

Equality is no rule in love's grammar:
That fole unhappiness is left to princes
To marry blood: We are free disposers,
And have the pow'r to equalize their bloods
Up to our own; we cannot keep it back,
Tis a due debt from us.

Dr. Donne

Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid in the Mill. O hapless love, which being anfwer'd, ends! And as a little infant cries and bends His tender brows, when rowling of his eye He hath espy'd fomething that glifters nigh Which he would have; yet give it him, away He throws it straight, and cries afresh to play With fomething elfe: Such my affection, fet On that, which I fhould loath, if I could get.

Beaumont and Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess. I have forgot all vain defires, All loofer thoughts, ill temp'red fires; True love I find a pleasant fume,

Whofe mod'rate heat can ne'er confume,

Ibid.

Young

-Young wenches loves

Are like the course of quartans; they may shift
And feem to cease fometimes; and yet we fee
The leaft diftemper pulls them back again,
And feats them in their old courfe.

Beaumont and Fletcher's Monfieur Thomas.

Hear, ye ladies that despise

What almighty love has done ;
Fear examples, and be wife;
Fair Califto was a nun:
Lada failing on the stream,

To deceive the hopes of man,
Love accounting but a dream,
Doted on a filver swan :
Danae in a brazen tower,

Where no love was, lov'd a shower.

Hear, ye ladies that are coy,

What almighty love can do ;

Fear the fierceness of the boy,

The chafte moon he makes to wooe:

Vefta kindling holy fires,

Circled round about with spies;

Never dreaming loofe defires,

Doting at the altar dies.

Ilion, in a fhort hour higher

He can build, and once more fire.

Beanmont and Fletcher's Valentinian.

What is there good in woman to be lov'd,

When only that which makes her fo, has left her?

Middleton's Women beware Women,

Hear me exemplify love's Latin word.

As thus; hearts join'd amore: Take a from thence,
Then more is the perfect moral sense:
Plural in manners, which in thee do fhine
Saint-like, immortal, fpotless and divine :
Take maway, ore in beauty's name,
Craves an eternal trophy to thy fame :

I 6

Laftly

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