Love is of everything; yet itself's but one thing.
Love is anything, yet indeed is nothing.
"We virgins know this, though not the force of Love.
For we two sisters live as in a cell:
Nor do we scorn it, though we it not approve;
By prayer we hope, her charms for to repell!
And thus adieu! But you, in Progress go,
To find fit place to warble forth your woe.
"Who first seeks mercy, is the last for grief,"
Thus did She part; whose image stayed behind.