And mischiefs high, when once they common grow
Entomb great states, and commons overthrow.
Thou Love (what should I call thee?) dost entice,
Nay check'st rebellion in the awful gods;
Women thy weapons are, of such high price,
That beat with them they humbly kiss the rods.
1690No life, no joy, no sweet, without a lass;
And yet no sweet nor joy since woman was.
Our eyes do ne'er mistake the day for night,
Nor can the pale-hewed pinks for roses pass,