I

I GUEST none wretched in his Love,
But who his Mistresse' scorn did prove,
Nor judg'd him happie, but whose fire
Was pay'd with mutuall desire.
But sad experience tells,
In both extreams there dwells
A destinie, which so malignant is
To make man wretched in his greatest blisse.

II

The brightest Beautie I adore,
That consecrated earth ere bore,
The sweetest Person, fairest minde,
That ever met in woman-kinde;
And (which afflicts mee) am
Met with an equall flame:
For, had shee hated mee, her scorn might have
Condemn'd my infant-love to its blest grave.

III

But such 'tis nourisht by her grace
As time, nor objects can deface,
To such a faith, as canot be
Compell'd from its integritie
But oh th' unwelcome cause
Of superstitious Laws!
That us from our mutuall embraces tear,
And separate our blouds, becaus too near.