To Castara,
Upon the disguising his affection.
Pronounce me guilty of a Blacker crime,
Then e're in the large Volume writ by Time.
The sad Historian reades, if not my Art
Dissembles love, to veile an am'rous heart.
For when the zealous anger of my friend
Checkes my unusuall sadnesse: I pretend
To study vertue, which indeede I doe,
He must court vertue who aspires to you.