The Monopoly.

WHat Mines of Sulphur in my breast do ly,
That feed th'aeternal burnings of my heart?
Not Aetna flames more fierce or constantly,
The sounding shop of Vulcans smoaky art;
Vulcan his shop has placed there,
And Cupids Forge is set up here.

Here all those Arrows mortal Heads are made,
That flye so thick unseen through yielding ayr;
The Cyclops here, which labour at the trade
Are Iealousie, Fear, Sadness and Despair.
Ah cruel God! and why to me
Gave you this curst Monopolie?

I have the trouble, not the gains of it;
Give me but the disposal of one Dart;
And then (I'll ask no other benefit)
Heat as you please your furnace in my Heart.
So sweet's Revenge to me, that I
Upon my foe would gladly dy.

Deep into'her bosom would I strike the dart;
Deeper then Woman e're was struck by Thee;
Thou giv'st them small wounds, and so far from th'Heart,
They flutter still about, inconstantly.
Curse on thy Goodness, whom we find
Civil to none but Woman-kind!

Vain God! who women dost thy self adore!
Their wounded Hearts do still retain the powers▪
To travel, and to wander as before;
Thy broken Arrows 'twixt that sex and ours
So'unjustly are distributed;
They take the Feathers, we the Head.