Fly on thy swiftest wing, ambitious Fame, And speake to the cold North _Castara's_ name: Which very breath will, like the East wind, bring The temp'rate warmth, and musicke of the Spring. Then from the Articke to th' Antarticke Pole, Haste nimbly and inspire a gentler soule, By naming her, ith' torrid South; that he May milde as _Zephirus_ coole whispers be. Nor let the West where heaven already joynes, The vastest Empire, and the wealthiest Mines: Nor th' East in pleasures wanton, her condemne, For not distributing her gifts on them. For she with want would have her bounty meete. Loves noble charity is so discreete. _A Dialogue betweene_ ARAPHILL _and_ CASTARA. ARAPH. Dost not thou _Castara_ read Am'rous volumes in my eyes? Doth not every motion plead What I'de shew, and yet disguise? Sences act each others part. Eyes, as tongues, reveale the heart. CAST. I saw love, as lightning breake From thy eyes, and was content Oft to heare thy silence speake. Silent love is eloquent. So the sence of learning heares, The dumbe musicke of the Spheares. ARAPH. Then there's mercy in your kinde, Listning to an unfain'd love, Or strives he to tame the wind, Who would your compassion move? No y'are pittious, as y're faire. Heaven relents, o'recome by prayer. CAST. But loose man too prodigall Is in the expence of vowes; And thinks to him kingdomes fall When the heart of woman bowes: Frailty to your armes may yeeld; Who resists you, wins the field. ARAPH. Triumph not to see me bleede, Let the Bore chased[9] from his den, On the wounds of mankinde feede. Your soft sexe should pitty men. Malice well may practise Art, Love hath a transparent heart. CAST. Yet is love all one deceit, A warme frost, a frozen fire. She within her selfe is great, Who is slave to no desire. Let youth act, and age advise, And then love may finde his eyes. ARAPH. _Hymens_ torch yeelds a dim light, When ambition joynes our hands. A proud day, but mournefull night, She sustaines, who marries lands. Wealth slaves man, but for their Ore, Th' Indians had beene free, though poore. CAST. And yet wealth the fuell is Which maintaines the nuptiall fire, And in honour there's a blisse. Th' are immortall who aspire. But truth sayes, no joyes are sweete, But where hearts united meete.