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The world the stage, the prologue, tears :
The acts, vain hope, and varied fears.
The scene shuts up with loss of breath,
And leaves no epilogue but death.
Down! stormy passions, down! no more
Let your rude waves invade the shore
Where blushing reason sits, and hides
Her from the fury of your tides.
Fall, easy patience, fall, like rest,
Whose soft spells charm a troubled breast;
And where those rebels you espy,
O! in your silken cordage tie
Their malice up! so shall I raise
Altars to thank your power, and praise
The sov’reign virtue of your balm,
Which cures a tempest by a calm,
My once dear love, hapless that I no more
Must call thee so, the rich affectioti's store
That fed on hopes, lies now exhaust and spent,
Like sums of treasure unto bankrupts lent.
We, that did nothing study, but the way
To love each other, with which thoughts the day
Rose with delight to us, and with them set,
Must learn the hateful art, how to forget.
We, that did nothing wish that heav'n could give,
Beyond ourselves, nor did desire to live
Beyond that wish; all these now cancel must,
As if not writ in faith, but words, and dust.
Yet witness those clear yows which lovers make;
Witness the chaste desires that never brake
Into unruly hearts; witness that breast
Which in thy bosom anchor'd his whole rest;
'Tis no default in us, I dare acquite
Thy maiden faith, thy purpose fair and white
As thy pure self. Cross planets did envy
Us to each other, and heav'n did untie
Faster than vows could bind— ***
* * * * * * * * * * * Like turtle doves
Dislodged from their haunts, we must in tears
Unwind a love, knit up in many years;
In this last kiss I here surrender thee
Back to thyself; so thou again art free.
Thou, in another, sad as that, re-send
The truest heart that lover e'er did lend.
Now turn from each: so fare our sever'd hearts
As the divorc'd soul from her body parts.
My once dear love,
Must call thee so, 1
That fed on hopes.
Like sums of trea
We, that did not
To love each
Rose with del
Must learn t!
We, that did
As if not
!! hroak the windows which the Whore » Babylon hath painted; 1 when the popish saints are down, inon Barrow shall be sainted :
pe's neither cross, nor crucifix, shall stand for men to see ;
i's trash and trumperies shall go down, id liey! then up go we !
·'ll down with all the Varsities,
Where learning is profess’d,
cause they practise and maintain
The language of the beast: .
Te'll drive the doctors out of doors,
And arts, whate'er they be;
We'll cry both arts and learning down,
And hey! then up go we!
If once that Anti-christian crew
Be crush'd and overthrown,
We'll teach the nobles how to crouch,
And keep the gentry down.
Good manners have an ill report,
And turn to pride, we see; **.!!! therefore cry good manners down, hey! then up go we! i