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Comedies, Tragi-comedies, With other Poems

by Mr William Cartwright ... The Ayres and Songs set by Mr Henry Lawes

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To Lydia whom Men observ'd to make too much of me.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


243

To Lydia whom Men observ'd to make too much of me.

I told you Lydia how 'twould be,
Though Love be blind, his Priests can see;
Your Wisdom that doth rule the Wise,
And Conquers more than your Black Eyes,
That like a Planet doth dispense,
And Govern by its Influence
(Though to all else discreet you be)
Is blemish'd 'cause y'are fond of me.
Your Manners like a Fortress Bar
The Rough approach of Men of War;
The King's and Prince's Servants you
Do use as they their scrivenors do;
The Learned Gown, the City Ruffe,
Your Husband too, scurvy enough:
But still with me you meet and Close,
As if that I were King of those.
You say, you ought how e'r to do
The same thing still; I say so too;
Let Tongues be free, speak what they will,
Say our Love's loud, but let's love still.
I hate a secret stifled flame,
Let yours and mine have Voice, and Name;
Who Censure what twixt us they see
Condemn not you, but Envy me.

244

Go bid the eager flame Congeal
To sober Ice, Bid the Sun steal
The Temper of the frozen Zone
Till Christall say, that Cold's its own.
Bid Jove himself, whiles the grave State
Of Heaven doth our Lots debate,
But think of Leda, and be wise,
And bid Love have equall Eyes.
View Others Lydia as you would
View Pictures, I'l be flesh and bloud;
Fondness, like Beauty that's admir'd,
At once is Censur'd and desir'd;
And they that do it will Confess,
Your Soul in this doth but digress:
But when you thus in Passions rise,
Y' are fond to them, to me y'are wise.