LOVE'S WORLD.

N each Man's Heart that doth begin
To love, there's ever fram'd within
A little World, for fo I found,
When first my Paffion Reason drown'd.
Inftead of Earth unto this Frame,
I had a Faith was ftill the fame,
For to be right it doth behoove
It be as that, fixt and not move.

Yet, as the Earth may fometimes shake
(For Winds fhut up will caufe a quake)
So often Jealoufie, and Fear,

Stoll'n into mine, caufe Tremblings there.

My Flora was my Sun, for as
One Sun, fo but one Flora was:
All other Faces borrow'd hence

Their Light and Grace, as Stars do thence.

My Hopes I call my Moon; for they
Inconftant ftill, were at no ftay;
But as my Sun inclin❜d to me,
Or more or lefs were fure to be.

Sometimes it would be full, and then
Oh! too too foon decrease again;
Eclips'd fometimes, that 'twou'd fo fall
There wou'd appear no Hope at all.

My Thoughts, caufe infinite they be,
Must be those many Stars we fee;
Of which fome wander'd at their Will,
But most on her were fixed ftill.

My burning Flame and hot Defire
Must be the Element of Fire,

Which hath as yet fo fecret been ;
That it as that was never feen:

No Kitchen Fire, nor eating Flame,
But innocent, hot, but in Name;
A Fire that's ftarv'd when fed, and gone
When too much Fuel is laid on;

But, as it plainly doth appear,
That Fire fubfifts by being near
The Moon's bright Orb, fo I believe
Ours doth, for Hope keeps Love alive.

My Fancy was the Air, moft free
And full of Mutability,

Big with Chimera's, Vapours here
Innumerable hatch'd as there.

The Sea's my Mind, which calm would be
Were it from Winds, my Paffions, free;
But out alas! no Sea I find

Is troubled like a Lover's Mind.

Within it Rocks and Shallows be,
Defpair, and fond Credulity.

But in this World it were good Reason
We did distinguish time and Seafon;
Her Presence then did make the Day,
And Night fhall come when the's away.

Long Abfence in far distant Place
Creates the Winter; and the Space
She tarry'd with me, well I might
Call it my Summer of Delight.

Diverfity of Weather came

From what she did, and thence had Name;
Sometimes she'd fmile, that made it fair;
And when the laught, the Sun fhin'd clear.

Some

Sometimes fhe'd frown, and fometimes weep,
So Clouds and Rain their turns do keep;
Sometimes again the'd be all Ice,
Extreamly cold, extreamly nice.

But foft my Mufe, the World is wide,
And all at once was not descry'd:
It may fall out fome honeft Lover
The reft hereafter will discover.

SONG.

WHY fo pale and

wan, fond Lover?

Prethee why fo pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail?

Prethee why fo pale?

Why fo dull and mute, young Sinner?
Prethee why fo mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing do't?

Prethee why fo mute?

Quit, quit for Shame! this will not move,
This cannot take her;

If of her felf fhe will not love,
Nothing can make her :-
The Devil take her.

SONNET I

I.

DOST fee how unregarded now

That Piece of Beauty paffes?

There was a time when I did vow

To that alone;

But mark the Fate of Faces;

That

That Red and White works now no more on me,
Than if it cou'd not charm, or I not fee.

II.

And yet the Face continues good,
And I have ftill Defires,

Am ftill the felf-fame Flesh and Blood,

As apt to melt

And fuffer from thofe Fires;

Oh! fome kind Power unriddle where it lyes,
Whether my Heart be faulty, or her Eyes.

III.

She every Day her Man does kill,

And I as often die;

Neither her Power then, nor my Will

Can queftion'd be,

What is the Mystery?

Sure Beauty's Empires, like to greater States,
Have certain Periods fet, and hidden Fates.

F

SONNET II.

I.

Of thec, kind Boy, I ask no Red and White

To make up my Delight,

No odd becoming Graces,

Black Eyes, or little know-not-whats, in Faces;
Make me but mad enough, give me good Store
Of Love, for her I court,

I ask no more;

'Tis Love in Love that makes the Sport.

II.

There's no fuch thing as that we Beauty call,
It is meer Cozenage all;

For, tho' fome long ago

Lik'd certain Colours mingl'd fo and fo,
"That does not tie me now from chusing new,
If I a Fancy take

To black and blue,

That Fancy doth it Beauty make.

III.

Tis not the Meat, but 'tis the Appetite
Makes eating a Delight,

And if I like one Dish

More than another, That a Pheasant is;
What in our Watches, that in us is found,
So to the height and nick

We up be wound.

No matter by what Hand or Trick.

SONNET III

I.

H! for fome honeft Lover's Ghost,

OH Some kind unbody'd Poft

Sent from the Shades below;
I ftrangely long to know

Whether the nobler Chaplets wear,
Those that their Mistress Scorn did bear.
Or those that were us'd kindly.

II.

For what-foe'er they tell us here

To make those Sufferings dear;
"Twill there, I fear, be found,
That to the being crown'd,

T'have loy'd alone will not fuffice,
Unless we also have been Wife,

And have our Loves enjoy'd.

III. What