Classic Poem

The blind God has, my blind Devotion still,
In whom I've so much Faith, I've no Free-Will.
So 'tis not this, or t'other Goddess I
Adore alone, or call my Destiny;
But best, my true Faith, and Devotion prove,
By my blind Faith, in the blind God of Love;
The Grace of some bright Angel to procure,
In Love to make my Call, Election, sure;
I ne'r Election of my Goddess make,
Nor for my Fate, one Mortal Angel take:
But love the whole Sex, most implicitly,
My Zeal and Faith but more to justifie,
To th' God of Love, and his Divinity:
My Faith in Love, is so Catholical,
Believing ev'ry thing, and Loving all
To th' Fair I show my Faith, Love, and Esteem;
To th' Foul my Charity, not hating them.
In hopes of Bliss, I still invoke the Fair;
The Foul too, when o'th' Fair-one I despair;
Worship the Fair, as Angels they appear;
The Foul, as Indians do the Dev'l, for Fear;
The Wit's good Sense, does me to Love persuade,
To love the Fool, by'r Innocence am made;
So Wit, or Folly, Love's Incitements prove;
The Wit or Fool, my Love or Pity move:
The Wit I love, but for her knowing, strait,
E'r that you make Love, what you wou'd be at;
T'other, for her not knowing, What is what:
Since Ignorance, in Love, as Danger too,
Will make the Fearful but the bolder grow:
I love the Wit, to Love by Reason brought,
Since ignorant of nothing, She'd be thought;
T'other, who wou'd, (since ignorant) be taught.
The Rich I covet, and the Proud adore;
And must be charitable to the Poor;
Pursue the Flying, meet the Coming too,
Can't from the Lying-still, turn, stir, or go;
I truckle to the Mighty, Proud, and Tall,
And take up in my Arms, the Low, and Small;
The Fat I love, my Stomach best to prove;
Since none can have too much of what they Love;
The Fat I love, since she is not strait-lac'd;
The Lean, because she's with more Ease embrac'd;
The Fat, who still for want of Breath, will ly;
The Lean, since she can move more nimbly.
I love the piercing Eye, that looks me thro';
The Bashful, that can't look upon me too;
The Soft-Look, which does most Compassion show;
The Quick, and Fiery Eye, which Passion proves,
The Sleepy, since it makes me dream she loves;
And with her Eyes (as 'twere) to bed-ward moves;
The Rolling, Kind, or Fix'd Eye; all which, prove
More moving, more to move, or fix my Love;
The Bold-Look love's Encouragement, I hold;
And by the Modest Look, my Love's made bold:
The Proud Dame's Scorn, makes me her Vassal grow,
Whose Pride as more, does more her Virtue show;
Whose Pride, as her I with more Labour gain,
Is more my Honour, Pleasure, as my Pain;
And I am taken with her Smile, or Frown;
By which Love, or Reserv'dness, best is shown;
Her Smiles, makes me to think she smiles on me,
Her Tears, I think, for Love of me to be;
Her Mirth gives me, more Joy still of her Love,
Her Sighs and Tears, the Truth best of it prove;
In me her Grief or Joy, Love's Passion move:
In fine, I love most, since I still love all,
My Love's most constant, as most general;
In Love with all, I've seen or known, have been;
Th' unknown I love, since them I ne'r have seen;
For love of all, to all of them am blind,
Tho' nought to love in any one I find;
I love all yet, but because Woman-kind:
Nay, I can love all, though I know not why,
True to the Fair, am out of Constancy,
And love the Foul, but for Variety:
The Fair, because I Rivals have in her;
The Foul, because no Rivals need I fear.
The Young, and Handsom love, since all do so:
Both th' Old, and Ugly too, since none else do
The Young, because my Love they satisfie;
And th' Old, since they give me no Jealousie;
The Poor, since then, my Love is Charity:
If me to love, the Poor, Old, Ugly move,
You may be'sure, there none are, but I love:
I love best, since Love's not my Choice, but Fate;
I love best, since Love's not my Choice, but Fate;
I love all, but, because that none I hate;
Yet still (my Dear) I find I love you best,
Since I love you most, tho' you love me least;
Who ne'r another Woman's Love did try,
But my Love to you, more to justifie;
Since, if the Difference 'twixt them, and you.
I had not known, I now sure, cou'd not know
Your Excellence, as now (my Dear,) I do;
Which me, has mov'd now, but to love you more,
Than, e'er I others try'd, I did before;
Since, but for our Comparison alone,
Of all things, we shou'd know the Worth of none;
So, by my Change, my Constancy I prove,
Who Thee more, for my trying others, love;
Then, for thy Honour, not Dishonour, I,
With other Women, for thy sake, did lie,
But, by my Change, my Faith to justifie;
Since I, but by my Tryal of the rest,
Cou'd ne'r have known, thou wert, and hast the best.