Teares most prevaile; with teares too thou mayst move
Rocks to relent, and coyest maids to love.

Love is a kind of warre; Hence those who feare,
No cowards must his royall Ensignes beare.

Then did I live when I did see
Perilla smile on none but me.
But (ah!) by starres malignant crost,
The life I got I quickly lost:
But yet a way there doth remaine,
For me embalm'd to live againe;
And that's to love me; in which state
Ile live as one Regenerate.

I doe love I know not what;
Sometimes this, & sometimes that:
All conditions I aime at.

But, as lucklesse, I have yet
Many shrewd disasters met,
To gaine her whom I wo'd get.

Therefore now Ile love no more,
As I've doted heretofore:
He who must be, shall be poore.

Some salve to every sore, we may apply;
Only for my wound there's no remedy.
Yet if my Julia kisse me, there will be
A soveraign balme found out to cure me.

Love is a Circle, and an Endlesse Sphere;
From good to good, revolving here, & there.

I plaid with Love, as with the fire
The wanton Satyre did;
Nor did I know, or co'd descry
What under there was hid.

That Satyre he but burnt his lips;
(But min's the greater smart)
For kissing Loves dissembling chips,
The fire scorcht my heart.

Sweet Oenone, doe but say
Love thou dost, though Love sayes Nay.
Speak me faire; for Lovers be
Gently kill'd by Flatterie.

Thou sent'st to me a True-love-knot; but I
Return'd a Ring of Jimmals, to imply
Thy Love had one knot, mine a triple tye.

Stately Goddesse, do thou please,
Who art chief at marriages,
But to dresse the Bridall-Bed,
When my Love and I shall wed:
And a Peacock proud shall be
Offerd up by us, to thee.