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And yet this world, as old as 'tis,
Is oft deceiv'd by 't too :
Let's try what we can do.
Get you gone-you will undo me If you
don't Let that inclination perish, Which I dare no longer cherish!
With harmless thoughts I did begin,
At every hour, in every place,
face: All that in plays was finely writ, Fancy for you and me did fit.
My dreams at night were all of you,
But now his teeth and claws are grown,
Love still has something of the sea,
From whence his mother rose : No time his slaves from doubt can free,
Nor give their thoughts repose.
They are becalm’d in clearest days,
Aud in rough weather tost, They wither under cold delays,
Or are in tempests lost.
One while they seem to touch the port,
Then straight into the main Some angry wind, in cruel sport,
The vessel drives again,
At first disdain and pride they fear,
Which if they chance to 'scape,
Rivals and falsehood soon appear,
In a more dreadful shape.
By such degrees to joys they come,
And are so long withstood, So slowly they receive the sum,
It hardly does them good,
"Tis cruel to prolong a pain;
And to defer a joy,
Offends the winged boy.
An hundred thousand oaths
your Perhaps would not remove; And, if I gaz'd a thousand years,
I could no deeper love.
Fair Amynta, art thou mad,
To let the world in me Envy joys I never had,
And censure them in thee?
Filld with grief for what is past,
Let us at length be wise;
Since we have paid the price.
Love does easy souls despise
Who lose themselves for toys, And escape for those devise
Who taste his utmost joys.
Love should like the year be crown'd
With sweet variety;
Kind fears, and jealousy.
In the summer, flowers should rise,
And in the autumn, fruit; His spring doth else but mock our eyes,
And in a scoff salute,
THE IN DIFFERENCE,
THANKS, fair Urania, to your scorn,
In losing me, proud nymph, you lose
My ranging love did never find
I, unawares, my freedom gave,
Love is a burthen, which two hearts,
I'm not of those who court their pain,
Nor yet of those who, ill receiv'd,