Us to a greatnesse, whether chance or thrift
E're rais'd her servants. For though all were spent,
That can create an Europe in content.
Thus (Madam) when Castara lends an eare
Soft to my hope, I Loves Philosopher,
Winne on her faith. For when I wondring stand
At th' intermingled beauty of her hand,
(Higher I dare not gaze) to this bright veine
I not ascribe the blood of Charlemaine
Deriv'd by you to her. Or say there are