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A YOUNG GENTLEMAN, Ear Reliques of a dislodg'd SOUL, whose lack
DMakes many a mourning paper put on black!
O stay a while, ere thou draw in thy head
Whose sylken flatteryes swell a few fond howres
Take thine own measure here down, down, & bow
Huge emptynes! contract thy self; & shrinke
Lower & lower yet; till thy leane size
Call heavn to look on thee with n[a]rrow eyes.
To show a face, fitt to confesse thy Kin,
Thy neig[h]bourhood to NOTHING.
Proud lookes, & lofty eyliddes, here putt on
Here, gallant ladyes! this unpartiall glasse
(Though you be painted) showes you your true face.
THE TRANSLATION OF
Oe now; and with some daring drugg
G Bait thy disease. And whilst they tugge,
Thou to maintain their pretious strife
Th'Oraculous DOCTOR's mystick bills;
That which makes us have no need
A soul sheath'd in a christall shrine;
Through which all her bright features shine;
Or'e beauty's face seeming to hide
Wouldst' see a man, whose well-warm'd blood
A man, whose tuned humors be
A seat of rarest harmony?
Wouldst' see blith lookes, fresh cheekes beguil
Age wouldst see december smile?
Wouldst' see nests of new roses grow
In a bed [o]f re[v]erend snow?
In summe, wouldst see a man that can
Whose latest & most leaden houres
Fall with soft wings, stuck with soft flowres; And when life's sweet fable ends,
Soul & body part like freinds;
No quarrells, murmurs, no delay;
A KISSE, a SIGH, and so away.
This rare one, reader, wouldst thou see?
Ope whose weak beeing ruin'd is
Alike if it succeed or if it misse!
The starres have not a possibility
Of blessing Thee.
If thinges then from their end we happy call,
Who in stead of doing so, devourst it quite.
The joyes which we intire should wed
Good fortunes without gain imported be
Such mighty custom's paid to Thee. For joy like wine kep't close, does better tast; If it take air before his spirits wast.
Hope fortun's cheating lottery
Where for one prize, an hundred blankes there be.
Thinne empty cloud which th-ey deceives
A cloud which gilt & painted now appeares
The merryer fool oth two, yet quite as mad.
That blow'st the chymick & the lover's fire.