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Not like your country neighbors that commit Their vice of loving for a Christmas fit, Which is indeed but friendship of the spit;

But as a friend, which name yourself receive, And which you, being the worthier, gave me leave

In letters, that mix spirits, thus to weave.

Which, how most sacred I will ever keep,
So may the fruitful vine my temples steep,
And fame wake for me when I yield to sleep!

Though you sometimes proclaim me too severe,
Rigid, and harsh, which is a drug austere
In friendship, I confess: but, dear friend, hear:

Little know they, that profess amity,.
And seek to scant her comely liberty,
How much they lame her in her property.

And less they know, who being free to use

That friendship which no chance but love did

choose,

Will unto license that fair leave abuse.

It is an act of tyranny, not love,

In practised friendship wholly to reprove,

As flattery, with friends' humors still to move.

From each of which I labor to be free;
Yet if with either's vice I tainted be,
Forgive it, as my frailty, and not me.

For no man lives so out of passion's sway
But shall sometimes be tempted to obey
Her fury, yet no friendship to betray.

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'Tis true, I'm broke! vows, oaths, and all I had Of credit lost. And I am now run mad,

Or do upon myself some desperate ill;

may

This sadness makes no approaches, but to kill.
It is a darkness hath blocked up my sense,
And drives it in to eat on my offence,
Or there to starve it. Help, O you that
Alone lend succors, and this fury stay!
Offended mistress, you are yet so fair,
As light breaks from you that affrights despair,
And fills my powers with persuading joy,
That you should be too noble to destroy.
There may some face or menace of a storm
Look forth, but cannot last in such a form.
If there be nothing worthy you can see
Of graces, or your mercy here in me,
Spare your own goodness yet; and be not great
In will and power, only to defeat.

God and the good know to forgive and save;
The ignorant and fools no pity have.

45 This and the next three Elegies are all addressed to the same person. The lady, whoever she was, appears to have had a love affair with the poet, who, in a moment of intoxication, had betrayed her confidence and disclosed the secret of their connection.-G.

I will not stand to justify my fault,
Or lay the excuse upon the vintner's vault;
Or in confessing of the crime be nice,

Or

go about to countenance the vice, By naming in what company 'twas in, As I would urge authority for sin : No, I will stand arraigned and cast, to be The subject of your grace in pardoning me, And, styled your mercy's creature, will live more Your honor now, than your disgrace before.

Think it was frailty, mistress, think me man, Think that yourself, like heaven, forgive me can: Where weakness doth offend, and virtue grieve, There greatness takes a glory to relieve. Think that I once was yours, or may be now; Nothing is vile, that is a part of you. Error and folly in me may have crossed Your just commands: yet those, not I, be lost. I am regenerate now, become the child Of your compassion; parents should be mild; There is no father that for one demerit, Or two, or three, a son will disinherit; That is the last of punishments is meant; No man inflicts that pain till hope be spent ; An ill-affected limb, whate'er it ail,

We cut not off till all cures else do fail,

And then with pause; for severed once, that's

gone,

Would live his glory that could keep it on.

Do not despair my mending; to distrust

Before you prove a medicine, is unjust;
You may so place me, and in such an air,
As not alone the cure, but scar be fair.
That is, if still your favors you apply,
And, not the bounties you ha' done, deny.

Could you demand the gifts you gave, again! Why was 't? did e'er the clouds ask back their

rain?

The sun his heat and light? the air his dew?
Or winds the spirit by which the flower so grew?
That were to wither all, and make a grave
Of that wise Nature would a cradle have!
Her order is to cherish and preserve,
Consumption's nature to destroy and starve.
But to exact again what once is given,
Is Nature's mere obliquity; as Heaven
Should ask the blood and spirits he hath infused
In man, because man hath the flesh abused.

O may your wisdom take example hence!
God lightens not at man's each frail offence;
He pardons slips, goes by a world of ills,
And then His thunder frights more than it kills.
He cannot angry be, but all must quake;

It shakes even Him that all things else doth

shake.

And how more fair and lovely looks the world
In a calm sky, than when the heaven is hurled
About in clouds, and wrapt in raging weather,
As all with storm and tempest ran together!
O imitate that sweet serenity

That makes us live, not that which calls to die.
In dark and sullen morns, do we not say,
This looketh like an execution-day;

And with the vulgar doth it not obtain
The name of cruel weather, storm and rain?
Be not affected with these marks too much
Of cruelty, lest they do make you such;
But view the mildness of your Maker's state,
As I the penitent's here emulate.

He, when he sees a sorrow, such as this,
Straight puts off all his anger, and doth kiss
The contrite soul, who hath no thought to win
Upon the hope to have another sin

Forgiven him and in that line stand I,

:

Rather than once displease you more, to die,
To suffer tortures, scorn, and infamy,
What fools, and all their parasites can apply;
The wit of ale, and genius of the malt

Can pump for, or a libel without salt

Produce; though threatening with a coal or chalk,

On every wall, and sung where'er I walk.
I number these as being of the chore
Of contumely, and urge a good man more
Than sword, or fire, or what is of the race
To carry noble danger in the face;
There is not any punishment, or pain,
A man should fly from, as he would disdain.
Then, mistress, here, here let your rigor end,
And let your mercy make me ashamed t' offend;

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