|
| I hate extreames yet I had rather stay, [133] |
| With Tombes then cradles to weare out a day |
| Since such loues naturall station is, may still |
| My Loue descend and Iourny downe the hill |
| Not panting after Growing beautyes. So |
| I shall ebbe on with them who homewards goe. |
|
| Elegie 13. |
|
| Loues Progresse.| |
|
| Who ever loues, if hee doe not propose |
| The right true end of loue, hee's one that goes |
| To sea for nothing but to make him sick |
| And Loue's a beare whelpe borne, if w'ouerlick |
| Our Loue, and force it new strange shapes to take |
| Wee erre, and of a lump a monster make. |
| Were not a calfe a Monster that were growne |
| ffac'd like a man, though better then his owne! |
| Perfection is in vnity, preferre |
| One woman first, and then one thing in her. |
| I when I valew gold, may thinke vpon |
| The ductilnesse, the Application |
| the wholesomnesse, the Ingenuity |
| ffrom rust, from soyle, from fire for ever free. |
| But if I loue it, tis because tis made |
| By our new Nature vse the soule of Trade.
|
[CW: All___] |