Rich, Precious Thing! you'll not be mine, it seems,
Because you say, no Wit, but Wealth contemns;
Wherefore, since your Wealth is your Merit, you
Will it on him who loves it most, bestow;
Whilst you the Rich, the Proud, and Covetous,
For your Gallant, True Lover, or your Spouse,
For loving Money more, but less shou'd chuse;
My Rival, the Rich Miser, then refuse,
Since thee he'd ne'r, because a Rich Thing, use;
But you great Fortunes, like your Money too,
Shun Lavish Wits, who wou'd make use of you,
And to the Miser wou'd most freely go;
Who, for his Covetous, Base Love of thee,
Thy Gaoler wou'd of thy Kind-Keeper be;
Thy Liberty out of his Love betray,
Thee, like his Gold, keep under Lock and Key:
Say not, you Marry then most Hon'rably,
As for most Coin you Sell your Liberty;
Since sure, most Infamously wou'd you Wed,
As for most Money you wou'd sell your Bed;
You with a Bargain wou'd the Church Prophane,
Turn Divine Free Love, into Wicked Gain;
Like the Jews Temple-Money-Changers, you,
Wou'd make the Church, your Change and Market too,
Which, Love's Fair Jew! you shou'd for nothing do;
To make so, by the Church, your Marr'age prove,
Most Sinful, as most Mercenary Love;
Since 'twere the worst sure of all Simony ,
For you to Sell i'th' Church your Liberty,
Or make me you, Life's Blessing, there to Buy;
Int'rest in Love, as in Devotion too,
Wou'd prove my Sin, ev'n of my Service so,
My Prophane Off'ring, for my Heav'n, thy Love,
By thee receiv'd, wou'd both's Damnation prove;
Since True Love is our only Heav'n below,
Then it, but like our Heav'n above us too,
Ours but by Faith, and Broken Hearts, shou'd grow;
And thee, Divine Thing! shou'd I more Prophane,
To think thy Favour, by my Bribe to gain;
To think to gain her, whom I thus adore,
Less on my Faith's, than on my Money's Score,
Were of my Goddess, but to make my Whore;
He most Prophanes his Female Deity,
Whose Blessings he with Offerings wou'd Buy;
False Heathen Goddesses claim Sacrifice,
But Service, Pray'rs, Vows, Faith, True Deities;
Then each Divine She's Faithful Worshipper,
With Bribes, for Justice, wou'd disparage her,
By Gifts, grow more her Undervaluer;
Wherefore, my Goddess! I so value thee,
For thee, to thee I'll but beholding be,
I, by Gifts, were from Obligation free;
To thee, Love, Faith, Devotion, more to prove,
But Pray'r and Praise, I'll give thee for thy Love;
He wou'd your Love ungratefully requite,
Who thinks his Base Dross a Return for it;
Since Love, till Bought or Sold, is no Nymph 's Shame,
He her, who Bids Gold for her, does Defame;
Since Love is but (when Sold) a Maid's Disgrace;
But when 'tis giv'n, Her Honour and her Praise;
So more my Gratitude I to you prove,
The less I think, I can repay your Love,
Wou'd thee to Gratitude by Money move;
Since you for Beauty, and for Goodness are,
A Mortal Angel, Innocent, as Fair,
Your Love is sought, repaid with Praise and Pray'r;
Since Love-Joys are like those of Heaven, which,
Are due to th' Poor, forfeited by the Rich;
Whose Hopes upon their Merits most rely,
To gain their Joys, but by their Simony ,
Whose Bold Presumption does their Faith deny;
Whilst I, your Faithful Poor in Spirit, do,
But only by my Fear, and Trembling too,
Hope for True Bliss, to gain my Heaven, you.