TO MY Young Lover ON HIS VOW

ALas, why mad'st thou such a Vow,
Which thou wilt never pay,
And promise that from very now,
Till everlasting day?
Thou mean'st to love, sigh, bleed, and dye,
And languish out thy breath,
In praise of my Divinity,
To th' minute of thy Death.

Sweet Youth, thou know'st not what it is
To be Love's Votary;
Where thou must for the smallest bliss,
Kneel, beg, and sigh, and cry.
Probationer thou should'st be first,
That thereby thou may'st try,
Whether thou can'st endure the worst
Of Love's austerity.

For Worlds of Beauties always stand
To tempt thy willing Eye,
And Troops of Lusts are at thy hand,
To vanquish thee, or dye.
And now this Vow exposes thee
To th' third (of all the worst)
The Devil of inconstancy,
That Tempter most accurs'd.