238
GONDIBERT,
45.
Yet ev'n in simple Love she uses Art,
Though weepings are from looser Eyes but Leaks;
Yet eldest Lovers scarce would doubt her heart,
So well she weeps, and thus to Goltho speaks:
Yet ev'n in simple Love she uses Art,
Though weepings are from looser Eyes but Leaks;
Yet eldest Lovers scarce would doubt her heart,
So well she weeps, and thus to Goltho speaks:
46.
I might, if I would ask your pardon, Sir,
Suspect that pitie which the noble feel
When women fail, but since in this I erre
To all my Sex, I would to women kneel.
I might, if I would ask your pardon, Sir,
Suspect that pitie which the noble feel
When women fail, but since in this I erre
To all my Sex, I would to women kneel.
47.
Yet happy were our Sex, could they excuse
All breach of Modestie, as I can mine,
Since 'tis from passion which a Saint might use,
And not appear less worthy of a shrine.
Yet happy were our Sex, could they excuse
All breach of Modestie, as I can mine,
Since 'tis from passion which a Saint might use,
And not appear less worthy of a shrine.
48.
For my brave brother you resemble so
Throughout your shape, who late in Combat fell,
As you in that an inward Virtue show,
By which to me you all the world excell.
For my brave brother you resemble so
Throughout your shape, who late in Combat fell,
As you in that an inward Virtue show,
By which to me you all the world excell.
49.
All was he which the Good of greatness see,
Or Love can like, in Judgement match'd by none;
Unless it fail'd in being kind to me,
A crime forbid to all, since he is gone.
All was he which the Good of greatness see,
Or Love can like, in Judgement match'd by none;
Unless it fail'd in being kind to me,
A crime forbid to all, since he is gone.
50.
For though I send my Eyes abroad in hope
Amongst the Streams of Men still slowing here,
To find (which is my passion's utmost scope)
Some one that does his noble Image bear.
For though I send my Eyes abroad in hope
Amongst the Streams of Men still slowing here,
To find (which is my passion's utmost scope)
Some one that does his noble Image bear.
51.
Yet still I live recluse, unless it seem
A liberty too rude, that I in you
His likeness at so high a rate esteem,
As to believe your heart is kind and true.
Yet still I live recluse, unless it seem
A liberty too rude, that I in you
His likeness at so high a rate esteem,
As to believe your heart is kind and true.
She
