Keep still thy distance; for at once to me
Goddess and woman too thou canst not be:

of all that sees thee, and as such
Must neither tyrannize nor yield too much ;
Such freedoms give as may admit command,
But keep the forts and magazines in hand.
Thou'rt yet a whole world to me, and dost fill
My large ambition; but 'tis dangerous still,
Lest I like the Pellæan prince should be,
And weep for other worlds, having conquer'd thee:
When Love has taken all thou hast away,
His strength by too much riches will decay.
Thou in my fancy dost much higher stand,
Than women can be placed by Nature's hand;
And I must needs, I'm sure, a loser be,
To change thee, as thou’rt there, for very thee.
Thy sweetness is so much within me placed,
That, shouldst thou nectar give, 'twould spoil the

taste. Beauty at first moves wonder and delight; 'Tis Nature's juggling trick to cheat the sight. We' admire it whilst unknown; but after, more Admire ourselves for liking it before. Love, like a greedy hawk, if we give way, Does over-gorge himself with his own prey; Of very hopes a surfeit he'll sustain, Unless by fears he cast them up again : His spirit and sweetness dangers keep alone; If once he lose his sting, he grows a drone.

SOME others may with safety tell

The moderate flames which in them dwell ;
And either find some medicine there,
Or cure themselves even by despair ;
My love's so great, that it might prove

Dangerous to tell her that I love.
So tender is my wound, it must not bear
Any salute, though of the kindest air.

I would not have her know the pain,
The torments, for her I sustain ;
Lest too much goodness make her throw
Her love upon a fate too low.
Forbid it, Heaven! my life should be

Weigh'd with her least conveniency:
No, let me perish rather with my grief,
Than, to her disadvantage, find relief!

Yet, when I die, my last breath shall
Grow bold, and plainly tell her all:
Like covetous men, who ne'er descry
Their dear hid-treasures till they die.
Ah, fairest maid! how will it cheer

My ghost, to get from thee a tear!
But take heed; for, if me thou pitiest then,
Twenty to one but I shall live again.

THE GIVEN HEART. I WONDER what those lovers mean, who say

They’ave given their hearts away:

Some good kind lover, tell me how? For mine is but a torment to me now.

VOL. Il.


If so it be one place both hearts contain,

For what do they complain?

What courtesy can Love do more, Than to join hearts that parted were before? Woe to her stubborn heart, if once mine come

Into the self-same room! 'Twill tear and blow


all within, Like a granado shot into' a magazine. Then shall Love keep the ashes and torn parts

Of both our broken-hearts;

Shall out of both one new one make, From hers the' allay, from mine the metal, take. For of her heart he from the flames will find

But little left behind :

Mine only will remain entire;
No dross was there, to perish in the fire.

Teach me to love! go teach thyself more wit;

I chief professor am of it.
Teach craft to Scots, and thrift to Jews,

Teach boldness to the stews;
In tyrants' courts teach supple flattery;
Teach Jesuits, that have travell’d far, to lie;

Teach fire to burn, and winds to blow,
Teach restless fountains how to flow,

Teach the dull earth fix'd to abide,
Teach woman-kind inconstancy and pride:
See if your diligence here will useful prove;
But, pr’ythee, teach not me to love.


The God of Love, if such a thing there be,

May learn to love from me;
He who does boast that he has been

heart since Adam's sin; I'll lay my life, nay mistress on't, that's more, I'll teach him things he never knew before ;

I'll teach him a receipt, to make
Words that weep, and tears that speak;

I'll teach him sighs, like those in death,
At which the souls go out too with the breath:
Still the soul stays, yet still does from me run,

As light and heat does with the sun.

'Tis I who Love's Columbus am ; 'tis I

Who must new worlds in it descry;
Rich worlds, that yield of treasure more

Than all that has been known before.
And yet like his, I fear, my fate must be,
To find them out for others, not for me.

Me times to come, I know it, shall
Love's last and greatest prophet call;

But, ah! what's that, if she refuse
To hear the wholesome doctrines of


Muse; If to my share the prophet's fate must come

Hereafter fame, here martyrdom?


The devil take those foolish men

Who gave you first such powers !

We stood on even grounds till then; If any odds, creation made it ours.

For shame, let these weak chains be broke;

Let's our slight bonds, like Samson, tear ;

And nobly cast away that yoke,
Which we nor our forefathers e'er could bear.

French laws forbid the female reign;

Yet Love does them to slavery draw :

Alas! if we'll our rights maintain, "Tis all mankind must make a Salique law,


Ha! ha! you think you've kill'd my fame, By this not understood, yet common, name: A name that's full and proper, when assign'd

To woman-kind;

But, when you call us so,
It can at best but for a metaphor go.


the shore inconstant call,
Which still, as waves pass by, embraces all ;
That had as lief the same waves always love,
Did they not from him move?

fault with pilots find For changing course, yet never blame the wind ?

Or can you

Since, drunk with vanity, you fell, The things turn round to you that steadfast dwell; And you yourself, who from us take your flight,

Wonder to find us out of sight.

So the same error seizes you,
As men in motion think the trees move too,

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