Poore _Philos_, who imagines through disdaine She will not speake, in these words doth beseech, She will transforme her breath into her speech: Natures chiefe wonder, and the worlds bright eie, Which shrowds _Elysium_ in humanitie, _Idea_ of all blisse, oh let me heare Those well tun'd accents which thy lips do beare: Pronounce my life or death: if death it be, Thrise happy death, the which proceeds from thee. O let those corall lips inricht with blisses, A while forbeare such loue-steept amourous kisses, And part themselues, to story to mine eares The sad misfortune which my poore heart feares. If all my loue must be repayd with hate, And I ordaind to be vnfortunate; If my poore heart being consecrate to thee, (Where thy sweet image sits in maiestie) Must turne to ruine; and my teere-spent eies Wholly possest with gripple auarice, Hourding the riches of the blessed sight Which they haue stolne from thee, must shade in night Their deerest chrystals of vnualued price, Since they haue glassd themselues within thine eies: Yet let me craue one happy-making boone, Though farre too worthy for so meane a groome, That thine owne voice may swanlike (ere I die) Relate the storie of my miserie. Poore _Licia_ fain would speake, & faine would tell him He needs not doubt, for she well doth loue him; Yet fearing he (as Chapmen vse to doo) Would hold aloofe, if Sellers gin to woo, Her tongue entreats of her vnwilling heart, She may a while forbeare, and not impart Her loue-sicke passions to his couetous minde, Lest he disdainfull proue, and so vnkinde. O wonder worker (Loue) how thou doest force Our selues against our selues! and by that course Seem'st to erect great Trophies in our brests, By which thou tak'st away our easefull rests, Nurse to thy passions, making seeming-hate Fewell to loue, and iealousie the bate To catch proud hearts, fearefull suspition Being forerunner to thy passion! Who most doth loue, must seeme most to neglect it, For he that shews most loue, is least respected. What vertue is inioyd, thats not esteemd; But what meane good we want, thats highly deemd: Which is the cause that many men do rate Their owne wiues vertues at a meane estate; Their matchlesse beautie and vnualued worth Seemes nothing in their eyes, nor bringeth forth Effects of loue, when to a meaner farre, Whose birth nor beautie comparable are; With that he's cloid, his passions will admire The very place whereon her footsteps were. The life of sweets is kild without varietie, One beautie still enioyd, breeds loathd satietie; And kindnesse, whose command lies in our power, We seldome relish; but if labourd for, Our very soule is rauisht with delight, It is so pleasing to our appetite. Vrg'd by these reasons, she would faine conceale The hid affection which her heart did feele; And yet compassion of her louers state