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Love-sick Lucilla to her unkind Shepheard
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Love-sick Lucilla to her unkind Shepheard

Then must I dye? and must I dye for Love?
For Love, that makes me like the Gods above?
If I must dye, what needs these flames? be like
You'l execute me as an Heretick.
But Momus teach me a new A. B. C.
If firm and faithful Love be Heresie.
If death must be the doom of Love, pray what
Shall be the sentence of Novercal hate?

45

If zealous Love merits a mortal curse,
Sure Hate, a cold devotion merits worse?
Yet how unjust is this, stories relate
Many that dy'd for Love, but none, for hate.
Is there no herb that may my griefs remove?
No Antidote against this poyson, love?
Pitty ye Gods, pity my Youth, and Beauty,
See how each Organ buckles to its Duty,
Cannot the Incence of our Prayers prevail?
What shall my sighs, my tears, my Groans, all fail?
Where is the Sisters thrift, that go about
To cut my Thread, e're it be half drawn out?
Let me but see the twylight of my age,
And then pursue the utmost of your rage.
Why was Lucina present at my birth,
Whilst the propitious Gods promis'd me mirth?
Why came glad Hymen with his taper light,
To mock me with the hopes of Nuptial night?
And why was Venus then ascendant? why
Did all the graces grace me, if I dye?
But, while I thus in vain urge my complaint,
I lose my breath, ah, me! I faint, I faint.
Deficiam parvi temporis adde moram.