O, dearly, I love you my sister Aurusta,
So soft and so gentle, not sullin and crusty;
'Twixt us here shall e'er be constant and true an
Affection like that between Hades and Juan;
That the words shall look off from the page of my glory,
To the Atlantic Monthly for that other story.

Something that makes you feel
Like a fool half the time.
Something that makes you act
Like a mule when he's blind.
Something over which you have
Absolutely no control,
Something that makes your blood hot,
And then it makes it cold.

2

Something that dulls your senses,
And then sometime make them keen
Something that makes you kind and sweet,
But sometimes makes you mean.

I have been in love, and in debt, and in drink
This many and many a year;
And those three are plagues enough one would think
For one poor mortal to bear
'Twas drink made me fall into Love,
And Love made me run into debt,
And though I have strugled and strugled and strove,
I cannot get out of them yet
There's nothing but money can cure me,
And rid me of all my pain
'Twil pay all my debts,
And remove all my lets,
And my Mistris that cannot endure me,
Will love me, and love me again,

1

Why should I blush or be dismai'd,
To tell you I adore you?
Since Love's a pow'r, that can't be staid,
But must by all be once obey'd,
And you as well as those before you.
Your beauty hath enchain'd my mind,
O let me not then cruel find
You which are fair, and therefore should be kind.

2

Fair as the light, pure as the Ray,

1

Prethee, why dost thou love me so?
Or is it but in show?
What is there that your thoughts can pick about me?
If beauty in my face you view,
'Twas ne're writ there unlesse by you,
I little find within, nor you without me.

2

I han't the Rhetorick of the foot,
Nor leane long leg to boot,
Nor can I court with congees, trips, and dances;
I seldom sing, or if I do,

1

'Tis true, I never was in love:
But now I mean to be,
For there's no art
Can shield a heart
From loves Supremacie

2

Though in my nonage I have seen
A world of taking faces;
I had not age nor wit to ken
There several hidden graces

3

Those vertues which though thinly set,
In others are admired,
In thee are altogether met,
Which make thee so desired

1

Nay prithee do, be coy and slight me,
I must love, though thou abhor it;
This pretty niceness does invite me:
Scorne me, and I'll love thee for it
That World of beauty that is in you,
I'll overcome like Alexander
In amorous flames I can continue
Unsing'd, and prove a Salamander.

2

Do not be won too soon I prethee,
But let me woe, whilst thou dost fly me
'Tis my delight to dally with thee,

1

Tell me not of a face that's fair,
Nor lip and cheek that's red,
Nor of the tresses of her hair,
Nor curles in order laid;
Nor of a rare seraphick voice,
That like an Angel sings;
Though if I were to take my choice,
I would have all these things
But if that thou wilt have me love
And it must be a she,
The only argument can move
Is, that she will love me.

2

When the fountain's flow
Shines brilliantly as usual,
And the wild rose appears,
And the little nightingale on the branch
Varies, changes, smooths out
And perfects his sweet song,
It is right that I should rehearse mine.

Love from a distant land,
For you my whole self aches;
And I can find no remedy
Unless I go at her call,
With the lure of sweet love,
In a garden or beneath a curtain
With a desired companion.

Since I get no relief at all,
I am not surprised if I am aflame,

O, thou, who art more fair than words can tell
Or a fond lover's nimble fancy paint,
May I not come to thee, where thou dost dwell
With hope that thou wilt heed my mournful plaint?
O, Love, thou canst not choose but tender be,
Knowing my every heart-beat is for thee!