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To M. C. B.
Thy friend, whom thy deserts to thee enchaine,
Vrg'd by this unexcusable occasion,
Thee and the Saint of his affection
Leaving behinde, doth of both wants complaine;
And let the love I beare to both sustaine
No blott nor maime by this division,
Strong is this love which ties our hearts in one,
And strong that love pursu'd with amorous paine;
But though besides thy selfe I leave behinde
Heavens liberall, and the thrice faire Sunne,
Going to where sterv'd winter aye doth wonne,
Yet, loves hot fires which martyr my sad minde,
Doe send forth scalding sighes, which have the Art
To melt all Ice, but that which walls her heart.
To M. S. B.
O thou which to search out the secret parts
Of the India, or rather Paradise
Of knowledge, hast with courage and advice
Lately launch'd into the vast Sea of Arts,
Disdaine not in thy constant travelling
To doe as other Voyagers, and make

[CW: Some]