Wheresoe'er I turn or move, A new passion doth detain me: Those kind beauties that do love, Or those proud ones that disdain me; This frown melts, and that smile burns me; This to tears, that ashes turns me. Soft fresh Virgins, not full blown, With their youthful sweetness take me; 20 Sober Matrons, that have known Long since what these prove, awake me; Here staid coldness I admire; There the lively active fire. She that doth by skill dispense Every favour she bestows, Or the harmless innocence, Which nor court nor city knows, Both alike my soul enflame, That wild Beauty, and this tame. 30 She that wisely can adorn Nature with the wealth of Art, Or whose rural sweets do scorn Borrow'd helps to take a heart, The vain care of that's my pleasure, Poverty of this my treasure. Both the wanton and the coy, Me with equal pleasures move; She whom I by force enjoy, Or who forceth me to love: 40 This, because she'll not confess, That not hide, her happiness. She whose loosely flowing hair, Scatter'd like the beams o' th' morn, Playing with the sportive air, Hides the sweets it doth adorn, Captive in that net restrains me, In those golden fetters chains me. Nor doth she with power less bright My divided heart invade, 50 Whose soft tresses spread like night O'er her shoulders a black shade; For the starlight of her eyes Brighter shines through those dark skies. Black, or fair, or tall, or low, I alike with all can sport; The bold sprightly Thais woo, Or the frozen Vestal court; Every Beauty takes my mind, Tied to all, to none confin'd. 60 [_Love's Heretic._] This, for Stanley, longish piece has few _vv. ll._ But _1647_ reads in l. 34 'that' instead of 'to', and the singular 'pleasure' in l. 38. The piece is rather in the Suckling vein; but Stanley did not play the light-o'-love quite successfully.] _La Belle Confidente._ You earthly souls that court a wanton flame, Whose pale weak influence Can rise no higher than the humble name, And narrow laws of sense, Learn by our friendship to create An immaterial fire, Whose brightness Angels may admire, But cannot emulate. Sickness may fright the roses from her cheek, Or make the lilies fade; 10 But all the subtile ways that Death doth seek, Cannot my love invade. Flames that are kindled by the eye, Through time and age expire; But ours, that boast a reach far higher, Can nor decay nor die.