The Phanseys of William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle addressed to Margaret Lucas and her Letters in reply: Edited by Douglas Grant |
 |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. | 16 Love's Vision |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
| 32. |
| 33. |
| 34. |
| 35. |
| 36. |
| 37. |
| 38. |
| 39. |
| 40. |
| 41. |
| 42. |
| 43. |
| 44. |
| 45. |
| 46. |
| 47. |
| 48. |
| 49. |
| 50. |
| 51. |
| 52. |
| 53. |
| 54. |
| 55. |
| 56. |
| 57. |
| 58. |
| 59. |
| 60. |
| 61. |
| 62. |
| 63. |
| 64. |
| 65. |
| 66. |
| 67. |
| 68. |
| 69. |
| 70. |
| 71. |
| 72. |
| 73. |
| 74. |
 | The Phanseys of William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle |  |
24
16
Love's Vision
Deere, lett Us two each other spye:
How curious in Each other's Eye
Wee're drawne to life; and thus wee see
Our selves att once, both thee and me;
Distinctly two, yett not alone;
Incorporated, that's but one.
How curious in Each other's Eye
Wee're drawne to life; and thus wee see
Our selves att once, both thee and me;
Distinctly two, yett not alone;
Incorporated, that's but one.
My Picture in your Eys you beare,
I yours, as much as myne you weare;
T'is not our Speties can not passe,
Or Shininge makes a lookinge glasse,
Nor Picture; Really wee lie
Contracted Each in other's Eye.
I yours, as much as myne you weare;
T'is not our Speties can not passe,
Or Shininge makes a lookinge glasse,
Nor Picture; Really wee lie
Contracted Each in other's Eye.
When that our milke White purer lawne,
Our Eylid Curtaynes, when they're drawne,
Soft Sleepe, made with sweet Vapors' rayne,
To coole Us shrinkes into Each Brayne,
Rejoyseinge with love's runninge Streames,
Which groser Lovers calls but Dreames.
Our Eylid Curtaynes, when they're drawne,
Soft Sleepe, made with sweet Vapors' rayne,
To coole Us shrinkes into Each Brayne,
Rejoyseinge with love's runninge Streames,
Which groser Lovers calls but Dreames.
Because wee two must never parte,
Wee move downe to Each other's harte;
And there, all Passions turn'd to Joy,
Our lovinge harts feeles no annoy;
Delated, least our Soles out skipps
With Joy, kisse quickly, stopp our lipps.
Wee move downe to Each other's harte;
And there, all Passions turn'd to Joy,
Our lovinge harts feeles no annoy;
Delated, least our Soles out skipps
With Joy, kisse quickly, stopp our lipps.
| The Phanseys of William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle | |