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"Fond Boy!" (sayd she) "too fond, that askt no
Thy want by taking is no whit decreased, [more;
And giving spends not our increasing store."-
Thus with a kisse his lips she sweetly pressed;

Most blessed kisse, but hope more than most blessed!
The boy did thinke heaven fell while thus he joy'd,
And while joy he so greedily enjoy'd,

He felt not halfe his joy by being overjoy'd.

"Why sighst? faire Boy," (sayd she)“ dost thou repent thee

Thy narrow wish in such straight bonds to stay?" "Well may I sigh," (sayd he)" and well lament me, That never such a debt may hope to pay."

"A kisse," (sayd she) " a kisse will back repay."
"Wilt thou" (reply'd the boy, too much delighted,)
"Content thee with such pay to be requited ?"
She grants; and he his lips, heart, soule, to pay-
ment cited.

Look as a ward, long from his lands detain'd,
And subject to his guardians cruel lore,

Now spends the more, the more he was restrain'd;
So he; yet though in laying out his store

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He doubly takes, yet finds himself grow poore;
With that he markes, and tels her out a score,
And doubles them, and trebles all before.
Fond boy! the more thou paist, thy debt still grows

the more.

At length, whether these favours so had fir'd him
With kindly heate, inflaming his desiring,
Or whether those sweete kisses had inspir'd him,
He thinkes that something wants for his requiring,
And still aspires, yet knows not his aspiring;

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But yet though that hee knoweth so she gave,
That he presents himselfe her bounden slave,
Still his more wishing face seem'd somewhat else

to crave.

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And, boldned with successe and many graces,
His hand, chain'd up in feare, he now releast,
And asking leave, courag'd with her imbraces,
Againe it prison'd in her tender breast:
Ah, blessed prison! prisners too much blest!
There with those sisters long time doth he play,
And now full boldly enters loves highway,
While downe the pleasant vale his creeping hand
doth stray.

She, not displeas'd with this his wanton play,
Hiding his blushing with a sugred kisse,
With such sweete heat his rudenesse doth allay,
That now he perfect knowes whatever blisse
Elder love taught, and he before did misse;

That moult with joy, in such untri'd joyes trying,
He gladly dies; and death new life applying,
Gladly againe he dyes, that oft he may be dying.

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Long thus he liv'd, slumbring in sweete delight, 9
Free from sad care and fickle worlds annoy,

Bathing in liquid joyes his melted sprite ;
And longer mought, but he (ah, foolish Boy!)
Too proud, and too impatient of his joy,

To woods, and heav'n, and earth, his blisse imparted,
That Jove upon him downe his thunder darted,
Blasting his splendent face, and all his beauty
swarted.

Such be his chance that to his love doth wrong; 10 Unworthy he to have so worthy place,

That cannot hold his peace and blabbing tongue;
Light joyes float on his lips, but rightly grace
Sinckes deepe, and th' heart's low center doth imbrace.
Might I enjoy my love till I unfold it,

I'd lose all favours when I blabbing told it:
He is not fit for love that is not fit to hold it.

GLOSSARY.

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