‘Twas here the lovely cruel Maid I found, Incompass’d with a thousand Lovers round; At my approach I saw their Blushes rise, And they regarded me with angry Eyes. _Aminta_ too, or else my Fancy ‘twas, Receiv’d me with a shy and cold Address, --I cou’d not speak--but Sigh’d, retir’d and Bow’d; } With pain I heard her Talk and Laugh aloud, } And deal her Freedoms to the greedy Crowd. } I Curst her Smiles, and envy’d every look, And Swore it was too kind, what’ere she spoke; Condemn’d her Air, rail’d on her soft Address, } And vow’d her Eyes did her false Heart confess, } And vainly wisht their Charming Beauties less. } A Secret hatred in my Soul I bear, Against these objects of my new despair; I waited all the day, and all in vain; Not one lone minute snatcht, to ease my pain; Her Lovers went and came in such a sort, } It rather seem’d _Loves-Office_ than his _Court_, } Made for eternal _Bus’ness_, not his _Sport_, } _Love_ saw my pain, and found my rage grew high, And led me off, to lodge at _Jealousie_. JEALOUSIE. I. _A Palace that is more uneasy far,_ _Then those of cruelty and absence are,_ _There constant show’rs of Hail and Rains do flow,_ _Continual Murmuring Winds around do blow,_ _Eternal Thunder rowling in the Air,_ _And thick dark hanging Clouds the day obscure;_ _Whose sullen dawn all Objects multiplies._ _And render things that are not, to the Eyes._ _Fantoms appear by the dull gloomy light,_ } _That with such subtil Art delude the sight,_ } _That one can see no Object true or right._ } _I here transported and impatient grow_ _And all things out of order do;_ _Hasty and peevish every thing I say,_ } _Suspicion and distrust’s my Passions sway,_ } _And bend all Nature that uneasy way._ } II. _A thousand Serpents gnaw the Heart;_ _A thousand Visions fill the Eyes,_ _And Deaf to all that can relief impart,_ _We hate the Counsel of the Wise,_ _And Sense like Tales of Lunaticks despise:_ _Faithless, as Couzen’d Maids, by Men undone,_ _And obstinate as new Religion,_ _As full of Error, and false Notion too,_ _As Dangerous, and as Politick;_ _As Humerous as a Beauty without Wit;_ _As Vain and Fancyful in all we do:_ _--Thus Wreck the Soul, as if it did conceal,_ _Love Secrets which by torturing ‘two’d reveal._