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43. Vpon Love
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183

43. Vpon Love

There is no worldly pleasure here below
Which by experience doth not folly prove,
But amongst all the follyes that I know,
The sweetest folly in the world is love
But not that passion which with fooles consent
Above the reason beares Imperious sway,
Makeing there lifetime a perpetuall Lent,
As if a man were borne to fast and pray.
Noe, that is not the humour I approve
As either yeilding pleasure or promotion,
I like a milde and Lukewarm zeale in love,
Although I doe not like it in Devotion
For it hath noe Coherence with my Creed
To thinke that Lovers dye as they pretend,
If all that say they dye had dyed indeed,
Sure long ere now the world had had an end.
Besides wee neede not love vnless wee please,
Noe destinye can force mans disposition,
And how can any dye of that disease
Whereof himselfe may be his owne Physitian?
But some seemes soe distracted of there witts
That I would thinke it but a veniall sinn
To take some of those Innocents that sitts
In Beddlam out, and put some lovers in.

184

And some men rather then incurr the slander
Of true Appostates will false Martyrs prove,
But I am neither Iphis nor Leander
Ile neither drowne nor hang my selfe for love.
Methinks a wisemans actions should be such
As allwayes yeildes to reasons best advise,
Now for to love too little or too much
Are both Extreames, and all extreames are vice.
Yet have I been a lover by report,
Yea, I have dyed for love as others doe,
But, prais'd be God, it was in such a sort
That I revived within an houre or two.
Thus have I liv'd, thus have I lov'd till now,
And findes noe reason to repent mee yet,
And whosoever otherwise will doe,
His courage is as little as his witt.