Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/77

Rh The man that doth possess my heart, Has twice as much perfection, And does excel you in desert, As much as in affection.

I cannot break so sweet a bond, Unless I prove untrue: Nor can I ever be so fond, To prove untrue for you.

Your attempts are but in vain (To tell you is a favour): For things that may be rack your brain; Then lose not thus your labour.

you, Diana-like, have liv'd still chaste, Yet must you not (fair) die a maid at last: The roses on your cheeks were never made To bless the eye alone, and so to fade; Nor had the cherries on your lips their being, To please no other sense than that of seeing: You were not made to look on, though that be A bliss too great for poor mortality: In that alone those rarer parts you have, To better uses sure wise nature gave Than that you put them to; to love, to wed, For Hymen's rights, and for the marriage-bed You were ordain'd, and not to lie alone; One is no number, till that two be one. To keep a maidenhead but till fifteen, Is worse than murder, and a greater sin Than to have lost it in the lawful sheets With one that should want skill to reap those sweets: But not to lose 't at all—by Venus, this, And by her son, inexpiable is; And should each female guilty be o' th' crime, The world would have its end before its time.