If to be absent were to be Away from thee; Or that when I am gone, You or I were alone, - Then, my Lucasta, might I crave

THOU snowy Farme with thy five… Tell thy white Mistris here was o… That call’d to pay his dayly Rent… But she agathering Flowr’s and He… And thou left voyd to rude Posses…

SEE! what an undisturbed teare She weepes for her last sleepe ; But, viewing her straight wak’d a… She weepes that she did weepe. II

I’m un-ore-clowded, too! free from… The blind and late Heaven’s-eyes… Obscured with the false fires of h… Not half those souls are lightned… Unhappy murmurers, that still repi…

Forbear, thou great good husband,… A little respite from thy flood of… Thou, thine own horse and cart und… Thy spacious tent, fan thy prodigi… Down with thy double load of that…

You, that can haply mixe your joye… And weave white Ios with black El… Can caroll out a dirge, and in one… Sing to the tune either of life, o… You, that can weepe the gladnesse…

With that delight the Royal capti… Before the throne, to breath his f… To tel his last tale, and so end w… Which gladly he esteemes a benefit… When the brave victor, at his grea…

Cord. Distressed pilgrim, who… Speak thee a martyr to love’s crue… Whither away? Amor. What p… Calls back my flying steps?

Depose your finger of that Ring, And Crowne mine with’t awhile Now I restor’t.—Pray, do’s it bri… Back with it more of soile? Or shines it not as innocent,

Lucasta. TELL me, ALEXIS, what this pa… That so like dying is, but is not… Alexis. It is a swounding for a while from…

TIS true the beauteous Starre To which I first did bow Burnt quicker, brighter far Then that which leads me now ; Which shines with more delight:

You that shall live awhile, before Old time tyrs, and is no more: When that this ambitious stone Stoopes low as what it tramples on… Know that in that age, when sinne

You are deceiv’d; I sooner may, d… Seat a dark Moor in Cassiopea’s c… Or on the glow-worm’s uselesse lig… Bestow the watching flames of nigh… Or give the rose’s breath

Now the Peace is made at the Foes… Whilst men of Armes to Kettles th… And drinke in Caskes of Honourabl… In ev’ry hand a Cup be found, That from all Hearts a health may…

Sweet serene skye-like Flower, Haste to adorn her Bower: From thy long clowdy bed, Shoot forth thy damaske head. II.