To th' hope of sweating industry, than we
Should starve with cold, who have no heat but thee.
Nor feare the publike good. Thy eyes can give
A life to all, who can deserve to live.
Upon Castara's departure.
I am engag'd to sorrow, and my heart
Feeles a distracted rage. Though you depart
And leave me to my feares; let love in spite