(untitled)

LOve which is here a care,
That Wit and Will doth mar,
Uncertaine Truce, and a most certaine War,
A shrill tempestuous Wind,
Which doth disturbe the Mind,
And like wild Waves all our designes commove;
Among those Pow'rs above,
Which see their Makers Face,
It a contentment is, a quiet Peace,
A Pleasure void of Griefe, a constant rest,
Eternall Joy, which nothing can molest.