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Again! till these two lights be four :-
No error here can dangerous prove :
Thy passion, man, deceiv'd thee more;
None double see like men in love.

THOUGH

[Extract from "The Spring."]

you be absent here, I needs must say The trees as beauteous are, and flowers as gay As ever they were wont to be:

Nay, the birds' rural music too

Is as melodious and free

As if they sung to pleasure you.
I saw a rose-bud ope this morn-I'll swear,
The blushing morn open'd not more fair.

[From "The Request."]

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I ASK not one in whom all beauties grow→→→

Let me but love, whate'er she be,

She cannot seem deform'd to me;

And I would have her seem to others so.

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That happy thing a lover grown,

I shall not see with others' eyes-scarce with

mine own.

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But do not touch my heart, and so be gone:
Strike deep thy burning arrows in:
Lukewarmness I account a sin

As great in love as in religion.

Come arm'd with flames, for I would prove
All the extremities of mighty love!

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[From "Not fair."]

'Tis very true, I thought you once as fair As women in th' idea are:

Whatever here seems beauteous, seem'd to be

But a faint metaphor of thee.

But then, methought, there something shin'd within Which cast this lustre o'er thy skin.

But since I knew thy falsehood, and thy pride, And all thy thousand faults beside;

"When I'm that."-Ed. 1647.

A very Moor, methinks, plac'd near to thee,
White as his teeth would seem to be;

Nay, when the world but knows how false you are, There's not a man will think you fair.

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[From "The Change."]

Love in her sunny eyes does basking play,
Love walks the pleasant mazes of her hair,
Love does on both her lips for ever stray,

And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there.
In all her outward parts Love's always seen;-
But oh! he never went within.

[From "The Soul."]

Ir mine eyes do e'er declare

They've seen a second thing that's fair,
Or ears, that they have music found

Besides thy voice in any sound;

If

my taste do ever meet

After thy kiss with ought that's sweet;

If

my abused touch allow

Ought to be smooth or soft but you;

If what seasonable springs,

Or the eastern summer brings,

Do my smell persuade at all

Ought perfume but thy breath to call;

May I as worthless seem to thee,
As all but thou appear to me.

If I ever anger know,

Till some wrong be done to you;

If ever I an hope admit,

Without thy image stamp'd on it;
Or any fear, till I begin

To find that you're concern'd therein;

If a joy e'er come to me,

That tastes of any thing but thee;

If any sorrow touch my mind

Whilst you are well and not unkind; If I a minute's space debate, Whether I shall curse and hate

The things beneath thy hatred fall, Though all the world, myself and all;

If any passion of my heart,

By any force or any art,

Be brought to move one step from thee,
May'st thou no passion have for me.

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WELL, then; I now do plainly see
This busy world and I shall neʼer agree.
The very honey of all earthly joy
Does of all meats the soonest cloy:

And they, methinks, deserve my pity,
Who for it can endure the stings,
The crowd, and buzz, and murmurings,
Of this great hive, the city.

Ah! yet, ere I descend to th' grave,

May I a small house and large garden have;

And a few friends, and many books, both true,

Both wise, and both delightful too!

And (since Love ne'er will from me flee,)

A mistress, moderately fair,

And good, as guardian-angels are;

Only belov❜d, and loving me!

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