Sweet stol'n-sport to them is grateful,
And in heart they wish to have it;
Yet they do account it hateful
Upon any terms to crave it.
But, would men not go about it,
But leave off at all to woo,
Ere they would be long without it,
They would beg and crave it too.
From The New Academy of Compliments, 1671.
GAZE[57] not on thy beauty's pride,
Tender maid, in the false tide
That from lovers' eyes do[th] slide.
Let thy faithful crystal show
How thy colours come and go;
Beauty takes a foil from woe.
Love, that in those smooth streams lies,
Under Pity's fair disguise,
Will thy melting heart surprise.
Nets of Passion's finest thread
(Snaring poems) will be spread
All to catch thy maidenhead.
Then beware: for those that cure
Love's disease, themselves endure
For a reward a calenture.
Rather let the lover pine
Than his pale cheek should assign
A perpetual blush to thine.