He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,
That puts it not unto the touch,
To win or lose it all.

But I must rule and govern still
And always give the law,
And have each subject at my will,
And all to stand in awe.
But 'gainst my battery if I find
Thou shun'st the prize so sore
As that thou set'st me up a blind,
I'll never love thee more.

If in the empire of thy heart,
Where I should solely be,
Another do pretend a part,
And dares to vie with me;
Or if committees thou erect,
And go on such a score,
I'll sing and laugh at thy neglect,
And never love thee more.

But if thou wilt be constant then,
And faithful of thy word,
I'll make thee glorious by my pen,
And famous by my sword.

I'll serve thee in such noble ways

Was never heard before;

I'll crown and deck thee all with bays, And love thee ever more.

PART SECOND.

My dear and only love, take heed,
Lest thou thyself expose,

And let all longing lovers feed
Upon such looks as those.

A marble wall then build about,
Beset without a door;

But if thou let thy heart fly out,
I'll never love thee more.

Let not their oaths, like volleys shot, Make any breach at all;

Nor smoothness of their language plot
Which way to scale the wall;
Nor balls of wildfire love consume
The shrine which I adore;
For if such smoke about thee fume,
I'll never love thee more.

I think thy virtues be too strong
To suffer by surprise;
Those victualed by my love so long,
The siege at length must rise,
And leave thee rulèd in that health
And state thou wast before;
But if thou turn a commonwealth,
I'll never love thee more.

Or if by fraud, or by consent,
Thy heart to ruin come,
I'll sound no trumpet as I wont,

Nor march by tuck of drum;
But hold my arms, like ensigns, up,

Thy falsehood to deplore,

And bitterly will sigh and weep,
And never love thee more.

I'll do with thee as Nero did
When Rome was set on fire,
Not only all relief forbid,
But to a hill retire,

And scorn to shed a tear to see
Thy spirit grown so poor;
But smiling sing, until I die,
I'll never love thee more.

Yet, for the love I bore thee once,
Lest that thy name should die,
A monument of marble stone
The truth shall testify;

That every pilgrim passing by

May pity and deplore

My case, and read the reason why

I can love thee no more.

The golden laws of love shall be
Upon this pillar hung, —

A simple heart, a single eye,

A true and constant tongue; Let no man for more love pretend Then he has hearts in store; True love begun shall never end; Love one and love no more.

Then shall thy heart be set by mine,
But in far different case;

For mine was true, so was not thine,
But lookt like Janus' face.

For as the waves with every wind,

So sail'st thou every shore,

And leav'st my constant heart behind.
How can I love thee more?

My heart shall with the sun be fixed
For constancy most strange,

And thine shall with the moon be mixed,
Delighting ay in change.

Thy beauty shined at first more bright,

And woe is me therefore,

That ever I found thy love so light

I could love thee no more!

The misty mountains, smoking lakes,
The rocks' resounding echo,

The whistling wind that murmur makes,
Shall with me sing hey ho!

The tossing seas, the tumbling boats,
Tears dropping from each shore,

Shall tune with me their turtle notes -
I'll never love thee more.

As doth the turtle, chaste and true,
Her fellow's death regret,

And daily mourns for his adieu,
And ne'er renews her mate;
So, though thy faith was never fast,
Which grieves me wondrous sore,
Yet I shall live in love so chaste,
That I shall love no more.

And when all gallants ride about
These monuments to view,

Whereon is written, in and out,

Thou traitorous and untrue;
Then in a passion they shall pause,
And thus say, sighing sore,
"Alas! he had too just a cause
Never to love thee more."

And when that tracing goddess Fame
From east to west shall flee,
She shall record it, to thy shame,

How thou hast loved me;

And how in odds our love was such

As few have been before;

Thou loved too many, and I too much,

So I can love no more.

THE MONARCHY OF SPAIN.

(From "Epistolæ Ho-Elianæ," letters of James Howell, Esq., published at London in 1645.)

TO THE LORD VICOUNT CCL. FROM MADRID.

RIGHT HONBLE, Your Lopps. of the third Current, came to safe hand, and being now upon point of parting with this Court I thought it worth the labor to send your Lopp. a short survay of the Monarchy of Spain; a bold undertaking your Lopp. will say, to comprehend within the narrow bounds of a letter such a huge bulk, but as in the bosse of a small Diamond ring, one may discern the image of a mighty mountain, so I will endeavour that your Lopp. may behold the power of this great King in this paper.

Spain hath bin alwayes esteemed a Countrey of ancient renown, and as it is incident to all other, she hath had her vicissitudes, and turns of Fortune: She hath bin thrice overcome, by the Romans, by the Goths, and by the Moores: the middle Conquest continueth to this day; for this King and most of the Nobilitie professe themselves to have descended of the Goths; the Moores kept here about 700. years, and it is a remarkable Story how they got in first; which was thus upon good record. There raignd in Spain Don Rodrigo, who kept his Court then at Malaga; He emploid the Conde Don Julian

Ambassador to Barbary, who had a Daughter, (a young beautifull Lady) that was Maid of Honor to the Queen: The King spying her one day refreshing her self under an Arbour, fell enamor'd with her, and never left till he had deflowrd her: She resenting much the dishonor, writ a letter to her father in Barbary under this Allegory, That there was a fair green Apple upon the table, and the Kings poignard fell upon't and cleft it in two. Don Julian apprehending the meaning, got letters of revocation, and came back to Spain, where he so complied with the King, that he became his Favorite : Amongst other things he advis'd the King that in regard he was now in Peace with all the World, he would dismisse his Gallies and Garrisons that were up and down the Sea Coasts, because it was a superfluous charge. This being don and the Countrey left open to any Invader, he prevaild with the King to have leave to go with his Lady to see their friends in Tarragona, which was 300. miles off: Having bin there a while, his Lady made semblance to be sick, and so sent to petition the King, that her daughter Donna Cava (whom they had left at Court to satiat the Kings lust) might come to comfort her a while; Cava came, and the gate through which she went forth is call'd after her name to this day in Malaga: Don Julian having all his chief kindred there, he saild over to Barbary, and afterwards brought over the King of Morocco, and others with an Army, who suddenly invaded Spain, lying armless and open, and so conquer'd it. Don Rodrigo died gallantly in the field, but what became of Don Julian, who for a particular revenge betrayed his own Countrey, no Story makes mention. A few years before this happend, Rodrigo came to Toledo, where under the great Church there was a vault with huge iron doores, and none of his Predecessors durst open it, because there was an old Prophesie, That when that vault was open'd Spain should be conquered; Rodrigo, slighting the Prophesie, caus'd the doors to be broke open, hoping to find there some Treasure, but when he entred, there was nothing found but the pictures of Moors, of such men that a little after fulfilld the Prophesie.

Yet this last conquest of Spain was not perfect, for divers parts North-west kept still under Christian Kings, specially Biscay, which was never conquer'd, as Wales in Britanny, and the Biscayners have much Analogy with the Welsh in divers things: They retain to this day the originall Language of