[8 They beare most blows which (_or_ that) _A18_, _B_, _D_, _H49_, _JC_, _L74_, _Lec_, _S_, _S96_, _TC_, _W:_ They must bear blows, which _Chambers_] [9 giddiness] guidings _Sim:_ giddinge _Wald_] [11 well,] well _W_] [13 a strange] straying _Sim_] [16 head] dead _Sim_] [19 the _A18_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H49_, _N_, _S_, _S96_, _TC_, _W:_ that _Chambers_, _A25_, _JC_, _L74_, _O'F_] [24 swaggering] swaying _Chambers_] [25 consumptions,] consumptions _W:_ _line omitted_, _Wald_] [29 lye] _spelt_ ly _W:_ _and so_ 30 dy] [33 gayne;] gayne _W_] [37 There] These _Sim_ and, that, with, which] _contracted throughout_, _W_] HEROICALL EPISTLE. _Sapho_ to _Philænis_. Where is that holy fire, which _Verse_ is said To have? is that inchanting force decai'd? _Verse_ that drawes _Natures_ workes, from _Natures_ law, Thee, her best worke, to her worke cannot draw. Have my teares quench'd my old _Poetique_ fire; 5 Why quench'd they not as well, that of _desire_? Thoughts, my mindes creatures, often are with thee, But I, their maker, want their libertie. Onely thine image, in my heart, doth sit, But that is waxe, and fires environ it. 10 My fires have driven, thine have drawne it hence; And I am rob'd of _Picture_, _Heart_, and _Sense_. Dwells with me still mine irksome _Memory_, Which, both to keepe, and lose, grieves equally. That tells me'how faire thou art: Thou art so faire, 15 As, _gods_, when _gods_ to thee I doe compare, Are grac'd thereby; And to make blinde men see, What things _gods_ are, I say they'are like to thee. For, if we justly call each silly _man_ A _litle world_, What shall we call thee than? 20 Thou art not soft, and cleare, and strait, and faire, As _Down_, as _Stars_, _Cedars_, and _Lillies_ are, But thy right hand, and cheek, and eye, only Are like thy other hand, and cheek, and eye. Such was my _Phao_ awhile, but shall be never, 25 As thou, wast, art, and, oh, maist be ever. Here lovers sweare in their _Idolatrie_, That I am such; but _Griefe_ discolors me. And yet I grieve the lesse, least _Griefe_ remove My beauty, and make me'unworthy of thy love. 30 Plaies some soft boy with thee, oh there wants yet A mutuall feeling which should sweeten it. His chinne, a thorny hairy unevennesse Doth threaten, and some daily change possesse. Thy body is a naturall _Paradise_, 35 In whose selfe, unmanur'd, all pleasure lies, Nor needs _perfection_; why shouldst thou than Admit the tillage of a harsh rough man? Men leave behinde them that which their sin showes, And are as theeves trac'd, which rob when it snows. 40 But of our dallyance no more signes there are,