Some that have deeper digg’d love’s mine than I,
Say, where his centric happiness doth lie;
;;;;I have lov’d, and got, and told,
But should I love, get, tell, till I were old,
I should not find that hidden mystery.
;;;;Oh, ’tis imposture all!
And as no chemic yet th’elixir got,
;;;;But glorifies his pregnant ***
;;;;If by the way to him befall
Some odoriferous thing, or medicinal,
;;;; So, lovers dream a rich and long delight,
;;;; But get a winter-seeming summer’s night.
Our ease, our thrift, our honour, and our day,
Shall we for this vain bubble’s shadow pay?
;;;;Ends love in this, that my man
Can be as happy’as I can, if he can
Endure the short scorn of a bridegroom’s play?
;;;;That loving wretch that swears
‘Tis not the bodies marry, but the minds,
;;;;Which he in her angelic finds,
;;;;Would swear as justly that he hears,
In that day’s rude hoarse minstrelsy, the spheres.
;;;;Hope not for mind in women; at their best
;;;;Sweetness and wit, they’are but mummy, possess’d.