|
| To your eyes, ears, and taste, and every part, |
| If then your body go, what need your heart? |
|
| Well, then stay here: but know, |
| When thou hast staid and done thy most, |
| A naked thinking heart, that makes no show, |
| Is to a woman but a kind of Ghost: |
| How shall she know my heart: or having none, |
| Know thee for one? |
| Practise may make her know some other part, |
| But take my word, she doth not know a heart. |
|
| Meet me at London, then, |
| Twenty dayes hence and thou shalt see |
| Me fresher, and more fat, by being with men, |
| Then if I had staid still with her and thee. |
| For Gods sake, if you can, be you so too: |
| I will give you |
| There to another friend, whom we shall find, |
| As glad to have my body as my mind. |
|
| The Primrose, being at Mountgomery Castle, upon |
| the hill, on which it is situate. |
|
| Upon this Primrose hill, |
| Where, if heaven would distill |
| A showre of rain, each several drop might go |
| To his own Primrose, and grow Manna so: |
| And where their form, and their infinitie |
| Make a terrestrial Gallaxie, |
| As the smal starres do in the skie: |
| I walk to find a true Love; and I see |
| That 'tis not a meer woman, that is she, |
| But must, or more or less than woman be,
|
[CW: Yet] |