But pray come without delay,
I do say,
My new delight, most pleasant joy,
And no toy;
It is you which me do please,
And can comfort and can ease.
From Wit Restored, 1658.
To B. R. for her Bracelets.
'TIS not, dear Love, that amber twist,
Which circles round thy captive wrist,
Can have the power to make me more
Your prisoner than I was before;
Though I that bracelet dearer hold
Than misers would a chain of gold.
Yet this but ties my outward part:
Heart-strings alone can tie my heart.
'Tis not that soft and silken wreath,
Your hands did unto mine bequeath,
Can bind with half so powerful charms
As the embraces of your arms;
Although not iron bands, my fair,
Can bind more fiercely than your hair.
Yet that will chain me most will be
Your heart in True Love's-knot to me.
'Tis not those beams, your hairs, nor all
Your glorious outside doth me thrall;
Although your looks have force enow[73]
To make the stateliest tyrants bow,
Nor any angel could deny
Your person his idolatry.
Yet I do not so much adore
The temple, but the goddess more.
If then my soul you would confine
To prison, tie your heart to mine;
Your noble virtues, constant love,
The only pow'rful chains will prove
To bind me ever; such as those
The bands of death shall ne'er unloose,
Until I such a prisoner be
No liberty can make me free.
By Sir Edward Sherburne.
Ice and Fire.