_Alin._ By others sad Experience wise I'le be. } } _Amin._ But such thy Wisdom highly injures me: } And nought but Death can give a Remedy. } Ye Learn'd in Physick, what does it avail, That you by Art (wherein ye never fail) Present Relief have for the Mad-dogs Bite? The Serpents sting? the poisonous _Achonite_? While helpless Love upbraids your baffl'd skill, And far more certain, than the rest, doth kill. _Alin._ Fond Swain, go dote upon the new blown Rose, Whose Beauty with the Morning did disclose, And e're Days King forsakes th'enlighted Earth, Wither'd, returns from whence it took its Birth. As much Excuse will there thy Love attend, As what thou dost on Womens Beauty spend. _Amin._ Ah Nymph, those Charms which I in thee admire, Can, nor before, nor with thy Life expire. From Heaven they are, and such as ne're can dye, But with thy Soul they will ascend the Sky! For though my ravisht Eye beholds in Thee, Such beauty as I can in none else see; That Nature there alone is without blame, Yet did not this my faithful Heart enflame: Nor when in Dance thou mov'st upon the Plaine, Or other Sports pursu'st among the Train Of choicest Nymphs, where thy attractive Grace Shews thee alone, though thousands be in place! Yet not for these do I _Alinda_ love, Hear then what 'tis, that does my Passion move. That Thou still Earliest at the Temple art, And still the last that does from thence depart; _Pans_ Altar is by thee the oftnest prest, Thine's still the fairest Offering and the Best; And all thy other Actions seem to be, The true Result of Unfeign'd Piety; Strict in thy self, to others Just and Mild; Careful, nor to Deceive, nor be Beguil'd; Wary, without the least Offence, to live, Yet none than thee more ready to forgive! Even on thy Beauty thou dost Fetters lay, Least, unawares, it any should betray. Far unlike, sure, to many of thy Sex, Whose Pride it is, the doting World to vex; Spreading their Universal Nets to take Who e're their artifice can captive make. But thou command'st thy Sweet, but Modest Eye, That no Inviting Glance from thence should fly. Beholding with a Gen'rous Disdain, The lighter Courtships of each amorous Swain; Knowing, true Fame, Vertue alone can give: Nor dost thou greedily even that receive. And what 'bove this thy Character can raise? Thirsty of Merit, yet neglecting Praise! While daily these Perfections I discry, Matchless _Alinda_ makes me daily dy. Thou absent, Flow'rs to me no Odours yield, Nor find I freshness in the dewy Field; Not _Thyrsis_ Voice, nor _Melibeus_ Lire, Can my Sad Heart with one Gay Thought inspire;