Well then, since then 'twas hard for you to lieAll night alone, why at your feast must I ?Why must I mourn, when you rejoice to knowYour daughter safe, and queen of all below?'Tis holy-day, and calls for wine and love;Come, let's the height of mirth and humor prove,These gifts will please our master pow'rs above.
Elegy XI: To his Mistress, that he cannot help loving her.So much I've suffer'd, and so long, no moreI'll bear the wrongs which I have borne before.Begone, vile Cupid, I'll no more endureThy slavish labors, and fatigues impure;From hence, I'll put an end to all the painsThou'st cost me, and from hence shake off thy chains.I hate the liv'ry I with pleasure wore,