Classic Poem

VI

Yet be not jelous, though I doe
Thus dote of itt, instead of you;
I love it not, for any Line
Where captivatinge beauties shine:
But onely (Chloris) as 'tis thine.

VII

And, though thy shaddow here take place,
By intimateing future grace,
It goes before, but to impart
To thee, how beautifull thou art,
And show a reason for my smart.

VIII

Nor is 't impropper, Sweet, since thou,
Art in thy youthfull Morninge now,
Whilst I, depriv'd of thine eyes light,
Do droopinge live a tedious night
In Paris, like an Anchorite.

IX

Recall me then, that I may see,
Once more, how faire, and kind you bee;
Into thy sun-shine call againe
Him, thus exil'd by thy disdaine,
And I'le forgett my Losse, and paine.