CIX.

O, never say that I was false of heart, Though absence feem'd my flame to qualify. As easy might I from myself depart

As from my foul, which in thy breast doth lie:
That is my home of love: if I have ranged,
Like him that travels, I return again;

Juft to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my ftain.
Never believe, though in my nature reign'd
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could fo prepofteroufly be ftain'd,
To leave for nothing all thy fum of good;
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.

CX.

Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there,
And made myself a motley to the view,

Gored mine own thoughts, fold cheap what is most
Made old offences of affections new;

Moft true it is that I have look'd on truth

[dear,

Afkance and strangely; but, by all above,

These blenches gave my heart another youth,
And worse essays proved thee my best of love.
Now all is done, have what shall have no end:
Mine appetite I never more will grind
On newer proof, to try an older friend,

A god in love, to whom I am confined.

Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, Even to thy pure and most most loving breast.