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Rh

When one can make the gifts bear fruit;

Then largess doth with profit suit.

Such giving no man need repent,

Thereto I freely give consent.

As to that bow of rarest price

And shafts of subtle artifice,

You know their use and management

Better than Love himself who spent

His life thereon, no greater craft

Hath he the bow to bend, and shaft

To speed, than you; though oft you know

Nothing of where those shafts may go.

For when a shaft at random speeds,

Some one of whom the archer heeds

No jot, may by mere chance be hit,

But you are known to be so fit

And skilful when the bow you draw,

That scarce you need to list my saw.

You may, God helping, chance to wound

Some one whose conquest may be found

Much to your profit. Need is none

That I should lecture you upon

The different deckings and attire

Which often help a heart to fire,

Nor what therein your choice should be.

I should discourse but uselessly

If you recall that song of old

That from my lips hath often rolled,

As we together sat alone,

Of passionate Pygmalion.

You thence of dress much more may learn

Than plough-beasts know of sods they turn.