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Incerto.
At once from hence my lines and I depart,
I to my soft still walks, they to my Heart;
I to the Nurse, they to the child of Art.
Yet as a firm house, though the Carpenter
Perish, doth stand: as an Embassadour
Lies safe, how e'r his King be in danger.
So, though I languish, prest with Melancholy;
My verse, the strict Map of my misery,
Shall live to see that, for whose want I dy.
Therefore I envy them, and do repent,
That from unhappy me, things happy' are sent;
Yet as a Picture, or bare Sacrament,
Accept these lines, and if in them there be
Merit of love, bestow that love on me.
To M. C. B.
Thy friend, whom thy deserts to thee enchain,
Urg'd by this unexcusable occasion,
Thee and the Saint of his affection
Leaving behind, doth of both wants complain;
And let the love I bear to both sustain
No blot nor maim by this division,
Strong is this love which ties our hearts in one,
And strong that love pursued with amorous pain;
But though besides thy self I leave behind

[CW: Heavens]