vain alas ye search your artless Books,
A lover's Fates writ in his Mistris's Looks;
Tis to no purpose that ye gaze ith' Skys,
There are no Stars like her propitious Eyes.
When Hearts are lost to set a Figure vain,
None but the Thief knows if you'll hav't again.
Your  ask, not  Aid intreat,
For he knows nothing of an amorous Cheat:
'Tis she alone that can the Mystery tell,
Read but her Looks they are infallible;
Consult the upper World for Death and Wars,
She is Love's Heaven, her Eyes the only Stars:
Since her kind Influence hath attracted you,
She may admit of a Conjunction too.