TO THE WORTHY GENTLEMAN,

AND HIS MUCH HONOURED FRIEND,

MASTER JOHN ONLEY.

IR, in this my love is showne to you, since I give you the Remedy of Love, a receipe never before ministred by any but Ovid, one well skild in the cause, therefore should better gesse at the Remedy: many others, perhaps, in this world, with your selfe, which cry with our Poet,

...

Oh nature too unkind,

That made no medcine for a love-sick mind,

Here may have remedy: (it is an infection reignes) but if your selfe or any other finde remedy in this my remedy, I (not physition like) looke but for thankes, and I appeale to all lovers for the patronizing of this little pamphlet: Thus wishing you in all your desires remedy, I rest

Yours I. W.

HEN Love did reade the Title of my booke,

He fear'd least some had armes against
him tooke;

Suspect mee not for such a wicked thought,
Under thy colours which so oft have fought.
Some youths are oft in love, but I am ever;
And now to do the same I do
persever.

I meane not to blot out what I have taught,
Nor to unwinde the web that I have wrought.
If any love, and is with love repaide,

Blest be his state! he needeth not my aide :
But if he reape scorne where he love hath sowne,
Of such it is that I take charge alone.

Why should love any unto hanging force?

When as even hate can drive them to no worse?
Why by their own hands should it cause men perish,
When it is peace alone that love doth cherish?
Il'e ease you now which taught to love before,

The same hand which did wound shall heale the sore. The same earth, poyson'd flowres, and healthsome breeds,

The rose is often neighbour unto weeds.

To men and women both, I physicke give,

Else I but halfe the sicke world should relieve.

If

any for that sexe unfitting are,

Yet they by mens example may beware:
Had wicked Scylla this my counsell read,
The golden haire had stuck to Nisus head.

Take heed, when thou dost first to like begin,
Thrust not love out, but let him not come in.
By running farre, brookes runne with greater force,
"Tis easier to hold in, then stop thy horse.
Delay, addes strength and faster hold imparts:
Delay, the blades of corne, to eares converts.
The tree which now is father to a shade,
And often head against the winde hath made,
I could at first have pluckt up with my hand,
Though the sunnes prospect now it dares withstand.
Then passions, ere they fortifie, remove,
"In short time, liking groweth to be love:"
Be provident, and so prevent thy sorrow,
Who will not do't to day, cannot to morrow.
The river which now multipli'd doth swell,
Is in his cradle but a little well.

Oft, that which when 'tis done is but a skarre,
Becomes a wound while we the cure deferre.