XLVIII. LOVE AND DEBT. A Fragment. THERE'S one request I make to Him Then for to dance, to drink, and sing, I should not owe one lass a kiss, 'Tis only being in love, or debt, He sees the golden age, wherein All things were free and common; He eats, he drinks, he takes his rest- Sir John Suckling. XLIX. THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD. IF all the world and love were young, Time drives the flocks from field to fold The flowers do fade, and wanton fields Thy gown, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy belt of straw, and ivy buds, But could youth last, and love still breed, LI. TO CHLOE, WHO WISHED HERSELF YOUNG ENOUGH FOR ME. A Fragment. CHLOE, why wish you that your years Would backwards run, till they meet mine, That perfect likeness, which endears Things unto things, might us combine? Our ages so in date agree, That twins do differ more than we. There are two births: the one when light The other, when two souls unite, And we must count our life from thence: Love then to us did new souls give, And in those souls did plant new powers; The breath we breathe is his, not ours; And now since you and I are such, Tell me what's yours and what is mine? So by this, I as well may be Too old for you, as you for me. William Cartwright. LII. THE MERIT OF INCONSTANCY. WHY dost thou say I am forsworn, It was last night I swore to thee Yet have I loved thee well, and long; Richard Lovelace. LIII. LOVE not me for comely grace, Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye, Unknown. LIV. TO LUCASTA, ON GOING BEYOND THE SEAS. A Fragment. IF to be absent were to be Away from thee; Or that when I am gone You or I were alone; Then, my Lucasta, might I crave Pity from blustering wind, or swallowing wave. Though seas and land betwixt us both, Like separated souls, All time and space controls: So then we do anticipate And are alive i' the skies, If thus our lips and eyes Can speak like spirits unconfined In heaven, their earthly bodies left behind. LV. Richard Lovelace. WERT thou yet fairer in thy feature, I'd rather marry a disease, Than court the thing I could not please: To him that doubts the heart's not his ? I love thee not because thou'rt fair, Softer than down, smoother than air; Nor for the Cupids that do lie In either corner of thine eye: Would'st thou then know what it might be ? 'Tis I love thee 'cause thou lov'st me. Unknown. |