ALOVERS

The accident which brought me to her eie,
Vpon the moment did her force subdewe,
And now she would the caged cloifter flies
Religious loue put out religions eye:
Not to be tempted would she be enur'd,
And now to tempt all liberty procure.

How mightie then you are, Oh heare me tell,
The broken bosoms that to me belong,
Hauë emptied all their fountains in my wells
And mine I powre your Ocean all amonge:
I strong ore them and you ore me being strong,
Muſt for your victorie vs all congeſt,
As compound loue to phisick your cold breſt.

My parts had powre to charme a ſacred Sunne,
Who disciplin'd I dieted in grace,
Beleeu'd her eies, when they t' affaile begun,
All vowes and conſecrations giuing place:
O moſt potentiall loue, vowe, bond, nor ſpace
In thee hath neither ſting, knot, nor confine
For thou art all and all things eis are thine.

When thou impreffest what are precepts worth
Of ſtale example? when thou wilt inflame,
How coldly thate impediments stand forth
Of wealth of filliall ſeare, lawe, kindred fame,
Loues armes are peace, gainſt rule, gainſt ſence,
And ſweetens in the ſuffering pagues it beares,
The Alloes of all forces, ſhockes and ſeares.

Now all these hearts that doe on mine depend,
Feeling it breake, with bleeding groanes they pine,
And ſupplicant their ſighes to you extend
To leaue the battrie that you make gainſt mine,
Lending ſoft audience, to my ſweet deſigne,

And

COMPLAINT.

And credent ſoule, to that ſtrong bonded oth,
That ſhall preferre and vndertake my troth.

This ſaid, his watrie eies he did diſmount,
Whofe ſightes till then were leaueld on my ſace,
Each cheeke a river running from a ſount,
With brynſiſh currant downe-ward ſlowed a pace:
Oh how the channell to the ſtreame gaue grace!
Who glaz'd with Chriſtail gate the glowing Roſes,
That flame through water which their hew incloſes,

Oh father, what a heil of witch-craft lies,
In the small orb of one particular teares?
But with the invndation of the eies:
What rocky heart to water will not weare?
What breſt so cold that is not warmed heare,
Or cleft effect, cold modetly hot wrath:
Both fire from hence, and chill extinture hath.

For loe his paſſion but an art of craft,
Euen there reſolu'd my reaſon into teares,
There my white ſtole of chaſtity I daſt,
Shooke off my ſober gardes, and ciuill ſeares,
Aappeare to him as he to me appeares:
All melting, though our drops this diſtrence bore,
His poison'd me, and mine did him restore.

In him a plenitude of ſubtle matter,
Applied to Cautills, all ſtraing ſormes receiues,
Of burning bluſhes, or of weeping water,
Or ſounding paleneſſe: and he takes and leaues,
In either aptneſſe as it beſt deceiues:
To bluſh at ſpeeches ranck, to weepe at woes
Or to turne white and found at tragick ſhowes.

That not a heart which in his leuell came,

La

Could