No More Learning

TO MISTRESS AMY POTTER.

Ay me! I love; give him your hand to kiss
Who both your wooer and your poet is.
Nature has precompos'd us both to love:
Your part's to grant; my scene must be to move.
Dear, can you like, and liking love your poet?
If you say "Aye," blush-guiltiness will show it.
Mine eyes must woo you, though I sigh the while:
_True love is tongueless as a crocodile_.
And you may find in love these different parts--
_Wooers have tongues of ice, but burning hearts_.


838. UPON A MAID.

Here she lies, in bed of spice,
Fair as Eve in Paradise:
For her beauty it was such
Poets could not praise too much.
Virgins, come, and in a ring
Her supremest requiem sing;
Then depart, but see ye tread
Lightly, lightly, o'er the dead.

_Supremest_, last.


839. UPON LOVE.
Love is a circle, and an endless sphere;
From good to good, revolving here and there.


840. BEAUTY.

Beauty's no other but a lovely grace
Of lively colours flowing from the face.


841. UPON LOVE.

Some salve to every sore we may apply;
Only for my wound there's no remedy.
Yet if my Julia kiss me, there will be
A sovereign balm found out to cure me.


844. TO HIS BOOK.

Make haste away, and let one be
A friendly patron unto thee:
Lest, rapt from hence, I see thee lie
Torn for the use of pastery:
Or see thy injur'd leaves serve well,
To make loose gowns for mackerel:
Or see the grocers in a trice,
Make hoods of thee to serve out spice.


845. READINESS.

The readiness of doing doth express
No other but the doer's willingness.


846. WRITING.