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To a Needle, that pricked his Mistress's Finger.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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80

To a Needle, that pricked his Mistress's Finger.

[_]

From BONEFONIUS.

Miracle of Cruelty!
Must my Laura bleed by thee?
Her Finger too, endure the Smart?
That tender, inoffensive Part!
What could the sweet Offender do,
Soft, and fair, as falling Snow;
To suffer innocently too!
Was it not Envy caus'd this Hate,
Because thy self wert found less strait?
Did not this thy Fury move
To wound the brighter Queen of Love?

81

But, ah! then dreadful Foe, forbear
To execute thy Fury here;
Yet, if you still to Rage incline,
Revenge at once, your Cause, and mine:
Let her obdurate Bosom feel
The angry Fury of thy Steel.
Her Bosom! soft as Turtle's Down,
Yet harder than the hardest Stone!
Her Bosom! colder than the Snow,
Burning at once, and freezing too,
Will brave thy fiercest, deadliest Blow.
Here infix thy piercing Dart,
Deep as Love has pierc'd my Heart:
Then, if thou gain'st the Victory,
How wond'rous will the Conquest be?
To win a Fortress that withstood
The utmost Fury of a God;
At once thy small, yet glorious Dart
Shall conquer Love's, and Laura's Heart.