The Phanseys of William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle addressed to Margaret Lucas and her Letters in reply: Edited by Douglas Grant |
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 | The Phanseys of William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle |  |
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Love's Thoughts
Thus I doe thinke, t'is strainge I never heard
From my deare love so longe; is the way barr'd?
Or doth the State of France thinke it their gaine
By partinge Us the better to beate Spaine?
Or Els our Sacred Queene thinkes our intente
Somethinge gainst her by Us for Parliament?
For Else we sure should meet. Is ther no hope?
Doth Digby hinder it now from the Pope,
Or doubts our meetinge may perchance miscarry
The Grand Duke's Sister with our Prince to marry:
Madamosell, or Prince of Oringe's Daughter?
What is the cause wee mett not? who's the Author?
It is so longe, so longe agoe, since mett,
I doubt you will me Utterly forgett;
It is now how longe? it is, lett me see,
Since I had letter, or did heare from thee,
I Vow it is, protestinge here I may,
T'is since I heard from you, T'is one whole day.
Oh, Gods, oh, Gods, how it doth greeve my Sole
Longer then sixe month's day att Eyther Pole;
Methusalem, from's Death to's Youth and Prime,
To this longe day was not a minute's tyme;
Adam his dayes to this poore dust and Earthe
So shorte to ours as strangl'd in his birthe.
From the Creation, reckon day and night,
When God Commainded, now lett there be lighte,
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Nor Nature in that made so much decay.
Pray you then come, or write, or send, that that
We may doe somethinge; but if I know whatt
I am a Villan; what I thinke of thee
Is still too bigg to bee Exprest by mee.
Here by our Love I sweare that it is true,
Methinkes so longe since I did heare from you
That Almenackes are falce, so lay them by;
And all that tells me otherways doe lie.
They say t'is but a day, but doth inrage
Me so because to mee it is an Age.
Wee'le have new Efemerides and make
Love's Almenacks from them for our Each sake;
And houer-glasses, whose least droppinge Sand
Heape hills of houers, nay, for yeares shall stand,
When parted; but when mett Tyme shall stand still,
Observinge Us and waytinge of our will.
| The Phanseys of William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle | |