Vpon CASTARA'S departure .

I am engag'd to sorrow, and my heart
Feeles a distracted rage. Though you depart
And leave me to my feares; let love in spite
Of absence, our divided soules unite.
But you must goe. The melancholy Doves
Draw Venus chariot hence: The sportive Loves
Which wont to wanton here hence with you flye,
And like false friends forsake me when I dye.
 For but a walking tombe, what can he be;
 Whose best of life is forc't to part with thee?

Vpon CASTARA'S departure .

I am engag'd to sorrow, and my heart

To a friend inquiring her name, whom he loved.

Fond Love himselfe hopes to disguise
From view, if he but covered lies,
Ith' veile of my transparent eyes.

Though in a smile himselfe he hide,
Or in a sigh, thou art so tride
In all his arts, hee'le be discride.

I must confesse (Deare friend) my flame,
Whose boasts Castara so doth tame,
That not thy faith, shall know her name.

Twere prophanation of my zeale,
If but abroad one whisper steale,
They love betray who him reveale.

In a dark cave which never eye

To CASTARA,

Inquiring why I loved her.

Why doth the stubborne iron prove
So gentle to th' magnetique stone?
How know you that the orbs doe move;
With musicke too? since heard of none?
And I will answer why I love.

'Tis not thy vertues, each a starre
Which in thy soules bright spheare doe shine,
Shooting their beauties from a farre,
To make each gazers heart like thine;
Our vertues often Meteors are.

'Tis not thy face. I cannot spie
When Poëts weepe some Virgins death,
That Cupid wantons in her eye,

A Dialogue betweene ARAPHILL and CASTARA. A RAPH .

Dost not thou Castara read
Am'rous volumes in my eyes?
Doth not every motion plead
What I'de shew, and yet disguise?
 Sences act each others part.
 Eyes, as tongues, reveale the heart. Cast .

I saw love as lightning breake
From thy eyes, and was content
Oft to heare thy silence speake.
Silent love is eloquent.
 So the sence of learning heares,
 The dumbe musicke of the Spheares. A RAPH .

Then there's mercy in your kinde,
Listning to an unfain'd love.

To CASTARA,

Of his being in Love.

Where am I? not in Heaven: for oh I feele
The Stone of Sisiphus, Ixions wheele;
And all those tortures, Poets (by their wine
Made judges) laid on Tantalus , are mine.
Nor yet am I in hell; for still I stand,
Though giddy in my passion, on firme land.
And still behold the seasons of the yeare,
Springs in my hope, and Winters in my feare.
And sure I'me 'bove the earth: For th' highest star
Shoots beames, but dim, to what Castara's are,
And in her sight and favour I even shine

You who are earth, and cannot rise
  Above your sence,
Boasting the envyed wealth which lyes
Bright in your Mistris lips or eyes,
Betray a pittyed eloquence.

That which doth joyne our soules, so light
  And quicke doth move.
That like the Eagle in his flight,
It doth transcend all humane sight,
Lost in the element of Love.

You Poets reach not this, who sing
  The praise of dust
But kneaded, when by theft you bring
The rose and Lilly from the Spring
T'adorne the wrinckled face of lust.

Dost not thou Castara read
Am'rous volumes in my eyes?
Doth not every motion plead
What I'de shew, and yet disguise?
 Sences act each others part.
 Eyes, as tongues, reveale the heart. CAST .

I saw love as lightning breake
From thy eyes, and was content
Oft to heare thy silence speake.
Silent love is eloquent.
 So the sence of learning heares,
 The dumbe musicke of the Spheares. ARAPH .

Then there's mercy in your kinde,
Listning to an unfain'd love.
Or strives he to tame the wind,
Who would your compassion move?

Kind lovers, love on,
Lest the world be undone,
And mankind be lost by degrees:
For if all from their loves
Should go wander in groves,
There soon would be nothing but trees.

Pity, pity, pity,
Pity, pity, pity,
That word begins that ends a true love ditty.
Your blessid eyes, like a pair of suns,
Shine in the sphere of smiling;
Your pretty lips, like a pair of doves,
Are kisses still compiling.
Mercy hangs upon your brow, like a precious jewel;

Youth's the Season made for Joys,
Love is then our Duty,
She alone who that employs,
Well deserves her Beauty.
Let's be gay,
While we may,
Beauty's a Flower, despis'd in decay.
Youth's the Season made for Joys,
Love is then our Duty.

Let us drink and sport to-day,
Ours is not to-morrow.
Love with Youth flies swift away,
Age is nought but Sorrow.
Dance and sing,
Time's on the Wing,
Life never knows the return of Spring.
Let us drink and sport to-day,
Ours is not to-morrow.