None, whom age, fortune, nature, does enable,
460With peevish noes neglecteth Hymen's offers.
All are inclined to love, and all must bow,
If Cupid's arrow do but write "Love thou".
Invest your noble thoughts with courage, Don,
Let reason, maugre love, triumphant ride,
Millions of ladies breath in Albion,
Have more rose-lilies, and less store of pride.
I'll warrant, though Bellama now say "no",
She'll find, ere long, denial was her foe.'