"Father," she says, "though in me you behold

The injury of many a blasting hour,
Let it not tell your judgement I am old;
Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power.
I might as yet have been a spreading flower, 75
Fresh to myself, if I had self-appli'd
Love to myself and to no love beside.

"But, woe is me! too early I attended
A youthful suit--it was to gain my grace
Of one by nature's outwards so commended, 80
That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face.
Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her
place;

And when in his fair parts she did abide,
She was new lodg'd and newly deifi'd.

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"But quickly on this side the verdict went:
His real habitude gave life and grace
To appertainings and to ornament,
Accomplish'd in himself, not in his case:
All aids, themselves made fairer by their place,
Came for additions; yet their purpos'd trim
Piec'd not his grace, but were all grac'd by him.

"So on the tip of his subduing tongue
All kind of arguments and question deep,
All replication prompt and reason strong,
For his advantage still did wake and sleep.
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep,
He had the dialect and different skill,
Catching all passions in his craft of will;

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150

"Yet did I not, as some my equals did,
Demand of him, nor being desired yielded;
Finding myself in honour so forbid,
With safest distance I mine honour shielded.
Experience for me many bulwarks builded
Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain'd the foil
Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil.

"But, ah, who ever shunn'd by precedent
The destin'd ill she must herself assay?
Or forc'd examples, 'gainst her own content,
To put the by-past perils in her way?
Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay;
For when we rage, advice is often seen
By blunting us to make our wits more keen.

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160

With objects manifold: each several stone, n With wit well blazon'd, smil'd or made some

moan.

"Lo, all these trophies of affections hot, Of pensiv'd and subdu'd desires the tender, Nature hath charg'd me that I hoard them

not,

But yield them up where I myself must render,

That is, to you, my origin and ender;
For these, of force, must your oblations be,
Since I their altar, you enpatron me.

"O, then, advance of yours that phraseless hand,

Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise;

Take all these similes to your own command, Hallowed with sighs that burning lungs did raise;

What me, your minister, for you obeys,
Works under you; and to your audit comes
Their distract parcels in combined sums.

"Lo, this device was sent me from a nun,
Or sister sanctified, of holiest note;
Which late her noble suit in court did shun,
Whose rarest havings made the blossoms
dote;

For she was sought by spirits of richest coat, But kept cold distance, and did thence remove To spend her living in eternal love.

"But, O my sweet, what labour is 't to leave The thing we have not, mast'ring what not strives,

Playing the place which did no form receive,
Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves?
She that her fame so to herself contrives,
The scars of battle scapeth by the flight,
And makes her absence valiant, not her
might.

"O, pardon me, in that my boast is true.
The accident which brought me to her eye
Upon the moment did her force subdue,
And now she would the caged cloister fly.
Religious love put out Religion's eye.
Not to be tempted, would she be immur'd,
And now, to tempt, all liberty procur'd.

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How mighty then you are, O, hear me tell! The broken bosoms that to me belong Have emptied all their fountains in my well. And mine I pour your ocean all among.

I strong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong, Must for your victory us all congest.

As compound love to physic your cold breast.