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A Lover's Excuse for his long Absence,
Oh! never fay that I was false of heart,
Tho' absence seem'd my flame to qualisy;
As easy might I from myself depart,
As from my foul which in my breast doth lie.
That is my home of love; if I have rang'd,
Like him that travels, I return again
Just to the time, not with the time exchang'd^
So that myself bring -water for my stain.
'Never believe, tho' in my nature reign'd
All frailties, that besiege all kinds os blood,
That it could fo preposteroufly be stain'd,
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good:
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.
Alas! 'tis true, I have gone here and there;"!
And made myself a motly to thy view;
•Gor'd mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most
Made old ofsences 6f. affections n«w.
Most true it is, that I have lcok'd on truth
Askance and strangely": but by all above,
These blenches gave my heart another youth,
And worst assays prov'd thee my best of love.
Now all is done, have what fl all have no end,
Mine appetite I never more will grind
On newer proof, to try an older lriend,
A god in love, to whom I am consin'd.
Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best,
Even to thy pure and most most loving breast.
Oh! for my fake do you with fortune chide
The guilty goddess of my harmless deeds,
That did net better for my lise provide,
Than publick means which publick manners breeds.
Thence comes it, that my name receives a brand,
And almost thence my nature is subdu'd
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
Pity me then, and wish I were renew'd^
Whilst like a willing patient I will drink
Potions of eysel 'gainst my strong insection,
No bitterness, that I will bitter think,
Nor double.penance to correct correction.
Pity me then, dear friend, and I allure ye,
E?en that your pity is enough to cure me.
Your love and pity doth th' impression sill,
Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow;
Jor what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o'er-skreen my bad, my good allow?
You are my all, the world and I must strive,
To know my shames and praises from your tongue;
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my fleel'd sense or changes right or wrong.
in fo profound. abyfme 1 throw all care
Of others voices, that my adder's fense
To critick and to-flatterer stopped are:
.Mark how with my neglect 1 do dispense.
You are fo strongly in my purpose bred,
That all the world besides me thinks I'm dead*
Self Flattery of her Beauty.
Since I left you mine eye is in my mind,
And that which governs me to go about,
Doth part his sunction, and is partly blind;
Seems seeing, but esfectually is out.
For it no form delivers to the heart
Of birds, or flower, or shape, which it doth lack;
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch:
For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight,
The most svreet favour or deformed'st creature,
The mountain or the sea, the day or night,
The crow or deve, it shapes them to your seature:
Incapable of more, replete with you,
My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.
Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you,
Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery?
Or whether shall I fay mine eye faith true,
And that your love taught it the alchymy?
To make of monsters, and things indigest,
Such cherubims as your sweet ielf resemble;
Creating every bad a persect best,
As fast as objects to his beams assemble?
Oh! 'tis the sirst, 'tis flattery in my seeing,
And my great mind most kindly drinks it up;
Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing,
And to his palate doth prepare the cup.
If it be poifon'd, 'tis the lesser sin,
That' njine eye loves it, and doth sirst begin.
Those lines, that I before have writ, do lye,
E'en those that faid I could not love you dearer:
Yet then my judgment knew no reafon why,
My most sull flame should asterwards burn clearer.
But reckoning time, whose million accidents
Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings,
Can facred beauty, blunt the sharpest intents,
Divert strong minds to th' course of alt'ring things.;
Alas! why searing of time's tyranny,
Might I not then fay, now I love you best,
When I was certain o'er incerrainty,
Crowning the present, doubting of the rest?
-Love is a babe, then might I not fay fo,
To give sull growth to that which still doth grow?
A Trial of Love's Constancy.
Accuse me thus; that I have scanted all,
Wherein I should your great deserts repay,
Forgot upon your dearest love to -call,
Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day;
That I have frequent been with unknown minds,
And given to time your own dear purchas'd right-;
That I have hoisted fails to all the winds,
Which mould transport me farthest from your sight.
Book both my wilsulness and error down,
And on just proof surmise, accumulate;
Bring me within the level of your frown,
But shoot not at me in your wakened hate:
Since my appeal fay.«, I did strive to prove
The constancy and virtue of your love.
Like as you malce your appetites more keen,
With eager compounds we our palate urge 5
As to prevent our maladies unseen,
We sicken, to shun sickness, when we purge s
Even fo being sull of your near cloying sweetness,
To bitter fauces did I frame my seeding;
.And sick of welfare, found a kind of meekness,
To be diseas'd ere that there was true needing.
Thus policy in love, t' anticipate
The ills that were not, grew to faults assured,
And brought to medicine a healthsul state,
Which rank of goodness would by ill be cured.
But thence I learn, and sind the lesson true.
Drugs poifon him that sell so sick os you.
What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within?
Applying sears to hopes, and hopes to sears,
Still losing when I-faw myself to win.
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
Whilst it hath thought itself fo blessed never?
How have mine eyes out of.their spheres been sitted,
In the distraction of this madding fever?
Oh! benesit of ill! now I sind true,
That better is by evil still made better;
And ruin'd love, when it is built anew,
Grows fairer than at sirst, more strong, far greater.
So I return rebuke to my content,
And gain by ills thrice more than I have spent
A good Construction os his Love's Unkindncss,
That you were once unkind befriends me now;
And for that forrow, which I then did seel,
Needs mull I under my transgression bow,
Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel.
For if you were by my unkindness shaken,
As I by yours, y' have pasc'd a hell of time;