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840. BEAUTY.

Beauty's no other but a lovely grace
Of lively colours flowing from the face.


841. UPON LOVE.

Some salve to every sore we may apply;
Only for my wound there's no remedy.
Yet if my Julia kiss me, there will be
A sovereign balm found out to cure me.


844. TO HIS BOOK.

Make haste away, and let one be
A friendly patron unto thee:
Lest, rapt from hence, I see thee lie
Torn for the use of pastery:
Or see thy injur'd leaves serve well,
To make loose gowns for mackerel:
Or see the grocers in a trice,
Make hoods of thee to serve out spice.


845. READINESS.

The readiness of doing doth express
No other but the doer's willingness.


846. WRITING.

When words we want, Love teacheth to indite;
And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.