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| O more then Moone, |
| Draw not up seas to drowne me in thy spheare, |
| Weepe me not dead, in thine armes, but forbeare |
| To teach the sea, what it may doe too soone, |
| Let not the winde |
| Example finde, |
| To doe me more harme, then it purposeth, |
| Since thou and I sigh one anothers breath, |
| Who e'r sighes most, is cruellest, and hasts the others death. |
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| Loves Alchymie. |
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| Some that have deeper digg'd loves Myne then I, |
| Say, where his centrique happinesse doth lie: |
| I have lov'd, and got, and told, |
| But should I love, get, tell, till I were old, |
| I should not finde that hidden mysterie; |
| Oh, 'tis imposture all: |
| And as no chymique yet th'Elixar got, |
| But glorifies his pregnant pot, |
| If by the way to him befall |
| Some odoriferous thing, or medicinall, |
| So, lovers dreame a rich and long delight, |
| But get a winter-seeming summers night.
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[CW: Our] |