|
| Must I, who came to travell thorow you, |
| Grow your fixt subject, because you are true? |
|
| Venus heard me sigh this song, |
| And by Loves sweetest Part, Variety, she swore, |
| She heard not this till now; it should be so no more. |
| She went, examin'd, and return'd ere long, |
| And said, alas, Some two or three |
| Poore Heretiques in love there bee, |
| Which thinke to stablish dangerous constancy. |
| But I have told them, since you will be true, |
| You shall be true to them who'are false to you. |
|
| Loves Vsury. |
|
| For every houre that thou wilt spare mee now, |
| I will allow, |
| Vsurious God of Love, twenty to thee, |
| When with my browne, my gray haires equall bee; |
| Till then, Love, let my body range, and let |
| Me trauell, sojourne, match, plot, have, forget, |
| Resume my last yeares relict: thinke that yet |
| We'had never met. |
|
| Let me thinke any rivals letter mine, |
| And at next nine |
| Keepe midnights promise; mistake by the way |
| The maid, and tell the Lady of that delay; |
| Onely let mee love none, no not the sport |
| From countrey grasse to comfitures of Court, |
| Or cities quelque choses, let not report |
| My minde transport.
|
[CW: This] |