Or were it such gold as that, wherewithal
Almighty chymics from each mineral
Having by subtle fire a soul out-pulled,
Are dirtily and desperately gulled:
I would not spit to quench the fire they 're in,
For they are guilty of much heinous sin.
But shall my harmless angels perish? Shall
I lose my guard, my ease, my food, my all?
Much hope, which they should nourish, will be
dead.

Much of my able youth and lusty-head
Will vanish if thou, Love, let them alone,

For thou wilt love me less, when they are gone,
And be content, that some lewd squeaking

cryer,

Well-pleased with one lean threadbare groat for
hire,

May like a devil roar through every street,
And gall the finder's conscience, if they meet.
Or let me creep to some dread conjurer,

That with fantastic scenes fills full much paper;
Which hath divided heaven in tenements,

And with whores, thieves, and murderers stuft his

rents

So full, that, though he pass them all in sin,
He leaves himself no room to enter in.

But if, when all his art and time is spent,
He say 't will ne'er be found, yet be content;
Receive from him the doom ungrudgingly,
Because he is the mouth of Destiny.

Thou say'st (alas) the gold doth still remain,
Though it be changed, and put into a chain;
So in the first faln angels resteth still

Wisdom and knowledge, but 't is turned to ill;
As these should do good works, and should provide
Necessities, but now must nurse thy pride:
And they are still bad angels: mine are none:
For form gives being; and their form is gone:
Pity these angels yet: their dignities
Pass Virtues, Powers, and Principalities.

But thou art resolute; thy will be done;
Yet with such anguish, as her only son
The mother in the hungry grave doth lay,
Unto the fire these martyrs I betray.
Good souls, (for you give life to every thing,)
Good angels, (for good messages you bring,)
Destined you might have been to such a one,
As would have loved and worshipped you alone:
One that would suffer hunger, nakedness,
Yea, death, ere he would make your number less.
But I am guilty of your sad decay:

May your few fellows longer with me stay!
But oh, thou wretched finder, whom I hate
So, that I almost pity thy estate,

Gold being the heaviest metal amongst all,
May my most heavy curse upon thee fall:
Here fettered, manacled, and hanged in chains
First may'st thou be; then chained to hellish pains;
Or be with foreign gold bribed to betray
Thy country, and fail both of it and thy pay.

May the next thing thou stoop'st to reac

tain

Poison, whose nimble fume rot thy moist b Or libels, or some interdicted thing, Which, negligently kept, thy ruin bring. Lust-bred diseases rot thee; and dwell wit Itching desire, and no ability.

May all the evils, that gold ever wrought, All mischief, that all devils ever thought, Want after plenty, poor and gouty age, The plague of travellers, love, and marriage Afflict thee; and at thy life's last moment May thy swoln sins themselves to thee prese

But I forgive: repent, thou honest man : Gold is restorative, restore it, than: But if that from it thou be'st loath to part, Because 't is cordial, would 't were at thy hea

ELEGY XII.

COME, Fates; I fear you not. All, whom I o

Are paid but you.

Then rest me ere I go.

But chance from you all sovereignty hath got, Love woundeth none but those, whom death da

not:

True if you were, and just in equity,

I should have vanquished her, as you did me. Else lovers should not brave death's pains, and

live :

But 't is a rule, Death comes not to relieve.
Or pale and wan Death's terrors, are they laid
So deep in lovers they make Death afraid?
Or (the least comfort) have I company?
Or can the Fates love Death, as well as me?
Yes, Fates do silk unto her distaff pay
For ransom, which tax they on us do lay.
Love gives her youth, which is the reason why
Youths, for her sake, some wither and some die.
Poor Death can nothing give; yet for her sake,
Still in her turn, he doth a lover take.

And if Death should prove false, she fears him not,
Our Muses to redeem her she hath got.

That fatal night we last kissed, I thus prayed,
(Or rather thus despaired, I should have said,)
Kisses, and yet despair. The forbid tree
Did promise (and deceive) no more than she.
Like lambs that see their teats, and must eat hay,
A food, whose taste hath made me pine away;
Dives, when thou saw'st bliss, and crav'dst to
touch

A drop of water, thy great pains were such.
Here grief wants a fresh wit, for mine being spent,
And my sighs weary, groans are all my rent;
Unable longer to endure the pain,

They break like thunder, and do bring down rain.

Thus, till dry tears solder mine eyes, I weep:
And then I dream, how you securely sleep,
And in your dreams do laugh at me. I hate,
And pray Love all may: He pities my state,
But says, I therein no revenge shall find;
The sun would shine, though all the world were

blind,

wealth;

Yet, to try my hate, Love showed me your tear;
And I had died, had not your smile been there.
Your frown undoes me; your smile is my
And as you please to look, I have my health.
Methought Love, pitying me, when he saw this,
Gave me your hands, the backs and palms, to kiss
That cured me not, but to bear pain gave strength;
And what is lost in force, is took in length.
I called on Love again, who feared you so,
That his compassion still proved greater woe:

For then I dreamed I was in bed with you,
But durst not feel, for fear 't should not be true.

This merits not our anger, had it been;
The Queen of Chastity was naked seen:
And in bed, not to feel, the pain I took,
Was more than for Acteon not to look.
And that breast, which lay ope, I did not know
But for the clearness, from a lump of snow.