Henry King

LL me no more how fair she is,
I have no minde to hear The story of that distant bliss
I never shall come near: By sad experience I have found That her perfection is my wound.
And tell me not how fond I am

If in this Glass of Humours you do find The Passions or diseases of your mind,
Here without pain, you safely may endure,
Though not to suffer, yet to read your cure.
But if you nothing meet you can apply

Fond Lunatick forbear, why do'st thou sue For thy affections pay e're it is due?
Loves fruits are legal use; and therefore may Be onely taken on the marriage day.
Who for this interest too early call,
By that exaction lose the…

Ill busi'd man! why should'st thou take such care To lengthen out thy life's short calendar?
When ev'ry spectacle thou lookst upon Presents and acts thy execution.
Each drooping season and each flower doth cry, "Fool! as I fade and…

Brought forth in sorrow, and bred up in care,
Two tender Children here entombed are:
One Place, one Sire, one Womb their being gave,
They had one mortal sickness, and one grave.