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14

XIII
TO AMARANTA

WHOM HE FELL IN LOVE WITH AT A PLAY-HOUSE

Fair Amaranta on the Stage, whilst you
Pitty'd a feigned Love, you gave a true;
The Hopes and Fears, in every Scene exprest,
Grew soon th' uneasie Motions of my Breast.
I thought to steal the innocent Delight,
And not have paid my Heart for a first Sight.
And if I ventur'd on some slight Discourse,
It should be such as could no Passion nurse:
Led by the treacherous Lustre of your Eyes,
At last I play'd too near the Precipice:
Love came disguis'd in Wonder and Delight,
His Bow unbent, his Arrows out of sight;
Your Words fell on my Passion, like those Showers,
Which paint and multiply the rising Flowers;
Like Cupid's self, a God, and yet a Child,
Your Looks at once were awful, and yet mild:
Methoughts you blush'd, as conscious of my Flame,
Whilst your strict Vertue did your Beauty blame:
But rest secure, y'are from the Guilt as free
As Saints ador'd from our Idolatry.