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A Monument to Fame.

Not mine own sears, nor the prophetick foul
Of the wide world, dreaming on tilings to come,.
Can yet the lease of my true love controulr
Suppos'd as forseit to a consin'd doom.
The mortal moon hath her eclipse endurM,
And the fad augurs mock their own prefage -r.
Incertairrties now crown themselves assur'd,
And peace proclaims olives of endless age.
Now with the drops of this most balmy time^
My love looks fresh, and death to me subscribes;
Since spite of him I'll live in this poor rhime, -
While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes.
-And thou in this shalt sind thy monument,
When tyrants crests and tombs of brass are spent.

What's in the brain, that ink may character,
Which hath not sigur'd to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what now to register,
That may express my love, or thy dear merit?
Nothing, sweet love P but yet like prayers divine,.
I must each day fay o'er the very fame;
Counting no old thing old, tbou mine, I thine*
E'en as when sirst I hallow'd thy fair name.
So that eternal love, in love's fresh case,
Weighs not the dust and injuries of age,
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
But makes antiquity for aye his page:

Finding the sirst conceit os love there bred,
Where time and outward form would shew it dead.


Love is too young to know what conscience is,
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?.'
Then gentle cheater urge not my amiss,
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove.
"For thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body's treason ^
My foul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love, flesh flays no farther reafons
But rising at thy name doth point out thee,
As his triumphant prize; proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.
No want of conscience hold it, that I call
Her love, for whose dear lo*e I rise and fall.

In loving thee, thou know'st I am forsworn,

But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing;

In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn,

In vowing new hate after new love bearing.

But why of two oaths breach do I accuse thee,

When I break twenty? I am perjur'd most;

For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee;

And all my honest faith in thee is lost.

For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness;

Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy;

And to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness;

Or made them swear against the thing they see.
For I have sworn thee fair; more perjur'd I,
To swear against the truth fo foul a lye.

The Tale of Cephalus and Procris.

Beneath f-Iymertus' hill, well cloth'd with slowers,
A holy well her foft springs gently pours:
Where stands a cops, in which the wcod-nymphs shrove,
(No wood) it rather seems a flender grove.

The humble shrubs and bushes hide the grass,

Here laurel. rosemary, here myrtle was:

Here grew thick box, and tam'risk, that excels,

And made a mere consusion of sweet smells;

The trisFoly, the pine; and on this heath

Stands many a plant that seels cold Zephyr's breath.

Here Ihe young Cephalus, tir'd in the chace,

Us'd his repose and rest alone t' embrace;

And where he sat, these words he would repeat,

'Come air, sweet air, come cool my mighty heat I

• Come, gentle air, I never will forfake thfe,

* I'll hug thee thus, and in my bosom take thee."
Some double duteous tell-tale hapt to hear this,
And to his jealous wise doth straitway bear this;
Which Procris hearing, and withal the name

Of air, sweet air, which he did oft proclaim,
She stands consounded, and amaz'd with grief,
By giving this fond tale too found belief.
And looks, as do the trees by winter nipt,
Whom frost and cold of fruit and leaves half stript.
She bends like corveil, when too rank it grows,
Or when the ripe fruits clog the quince-tree boughsi
But when stie comes t' herself, she tears
Her garments, eyes, her cheeks, and hairs;
And then stie starts, and to her seet applies her,
Then to the wood (staik wood) in rage she hies her.
Approaching fomewhat near, her servants they
By her appointment in a valley stay;
While stie alone, with creeping paces, steals
To take the strumpet, whom her lord conceals.
"What mean'st thou, Piocris, in these groves to hide

What rage of love doth to this madness guide thee?
Thou hop'st the ai: he calls, iii all her bravery,
Will strait approach, and thou shalt see their knavery.
And now again it irks her to be there,'
For such a killing sight her heart will tear.
No truce can with her troubled thoughts dispense,
She would not now be there, nor yet be thence.
Behold the place her jealous mind foretels,
Here do they use to meet, and no where else:
The grass is laid, and fee their true impression,
Even her- they lay! aye, here was their transgression.
A body'; pr.nt (he faw, it was his seat,
Which makes her faint heart 'gainst her ribs to beat.
Phœbus the lofty eastern hill had scal'd,
And all moist vapours from the earth exhal'd.
Now in this noon-tide point he shineth bright,
It was the middle hour, 'twixt noon and night.
Behold young Cephalus draws to the place,
And with the fountain-water sprinks his face.
Procris is hid, upon the grass he lies,
And come sweet Zephyr, come sweet air he cries.
•She sees her error now trom where he stood,
Her mind returns to her, and her fresh blood;
Among the shrubs and briars fte moves and rustles,
And the injurious boughs away she justles,
Intending, as he lay there to repose him,
Nimbly to run, and in her arms inclose him.
He quickly casts his eye upon the bush,
Thinking therein some fava'.re beast did rush;
His bow he bends, and a keen shaft he draws:
Unhappy man, what dost thou? stay, and pause,
It is no brute beast thou would st 'reave of lise;
O! man unhappy! thou hast fliin thy wise!
O heaven1. flic cries, O help me! I am flain;
Still doth thy arrow in my wound remain.
Yet tho' by timeless fate my hones here lie,
It gladsHne most, that I no cuck quean die.

Her breath (thus in the arms she most affected)
She breathes into the air (before suspected)
The whilst he lists her body from the ground,
And with his tears doth wash her bleeding wonnrcL.

Cupid'/ Treachery.

;Cupid laid by hisbrand, and sell afleep^
A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love kindling sire did quickly steep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground:
Which borrow'd from his holy sire of love,
A dateless lively heat still to endure,
And grew a teething bath, w-hich yet men prove
Against strange maladies a fovereign cure.
But at my mistress' eyes love's brand new sired,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breast;
I sick withal the help of bath desired,
And thither hied a fad dittemper'd guest:

But found no cure, the bath for my help lies,
When Cupid got new sire, my -mistress' eyes.

The little love-god lying once afleep,

Laid by his side iiis heart in flaming brand,

Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste lise to keep.

Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand,

The fairest votary took up that sire,

Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd^

And fo the general of hot desire

Was sleeping, by a virgin hand ciifarm'd.

This brand she quenched in a cool well by,

Which fion) love's sire took heat perpetual,

Growing a bath and healthsul remedy

For men diseas'd; but 1, my mistress' thrall,

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