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For thou may’st say, 'twas not thy fault · That thou didst thus inconstant prove, Being by my example taught

To break thy oath, to mend thy love.

No, Chloris, no! I will return,

And raise thy story to that height, That strangers shall at distance burn,

And she distrust me reprobate.

Then shall my love this doubt displace,

And gain such trust, that I may come And banquet sometimes on thy face,

But make my constant meals at home.

Of Sylvia.

Our sighs are heard; just heaven declares
The sense it has of lovers cares.
She that so far the rest outshin’d,
Sylvia, the fair, while she was kind,
As if her frowns impair’d her brow,
Seems only not unhandsome now.

So when the sky makes us endure
A storm, itself becomes obscure.

Hence 'tis that I conceal my flame,
Hiding from Flavia's self her name;
Lest she, provoking heaven, should prove
How it rewards neglected love.
Better a thousand such as I,
Their grief untold, should pine and die,

Than her bright morning, overcast
With sullen clouds, should be defac'd.

Of Love.

Anger in hasty words or blows
Itself discharges on our foes ;
And sorrow, too, finds some relief
In tears, which wait upon our grief.
So every passion, but fond love,
Unto its own redress does move:
But that alone the wretch inclines
To what prevents his own designs ;
Makes him lament, and sigh, and weep,
Disorder'd, tremble, fawn, and creep ;
Postures which render him despis’d,
Where he endeavou s to be priz’d.
For, women, born to be controll’d,
Stoop to the forward and the bold,

Affect the haughty and the proud,
The gay, the frolic, and the loud.
Who first the generous steed opprest,
Not kneeling did salute the beast,
But with high courage, life, and force,
Approaching, tam’d th’ unruly horse.

Unwisely we the wiser east Pity, supposing them opprest With tyrant's force, whose law is will, By which they govern, spoil, and kill: Each rymph, but moderately fair, Commands with no less rigour here. Should some brave Turk, that walks among His twenty lasses, bright and young, And beckons to the willing dame Preferr'd to quench his present flame, Behold as many gallants here With modest guise and silent fear All to one female idol bend, Whilst her high pride does scarce descend . To mark their follies, he would swear That these her guard of eunuchs were ; And that a more majestic queen, Or humbler slaves, ke had not seen.

All this with indignation spoke, In vain I struggled with the yoke Of mighty Love : that conquering look, When next beheld, like lightning strook My blasted soul, and made me bow Lower than those I pitied now.

So the tall stag, upon the brink Of some smooth stream about to drink, Surveying there his armed head, With shame remembers that he fed The scorned dogs; resolves to try The combat next; but if their cry Invades again his trembling ear, He straight resumes his wonted care, Leaves the untasted spring behind, And, wing'd with fear, outflies the wind.


Go, lovely Rose!
Tell her that wastes her time and me,

That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,

How sweet and fair she seems to be.

Tell her that's young
And shuns to have her graces spied,

That, hadst thou sprung
In desarts where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth
Of Beauty from the light retired:

Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desir’d,
And not blush so to be admir'd. .

Then die! that she
The common fate of all things rare

May read in thee;
How small a part of time they share :
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!

To Phillis.

Phillis, why should we delay
Pleasures shorter than the day?
Could we (which we never can)
Stretch our lives beyond their span,

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