A Dialogue upon Death

Phil:
Damon amidst the blisses we
In joynt affections fully prove,
Doth it not sometimes trouble thee,
To think that death must part our love?

Dam:
Though sweets concentrate in thy armes,
And that alone I revell there,
A willing prisoner to those charmes,
Love cannot teach me death to fear.

Phil:
Say of these sweets I should beguile
Thy tast by my inconstancie,
And on thy rivall Thyrsis smile,
Would not that losse work grief in thee?

Dam:
Oh nothing more; For here to be
Is Hell and thy embraces lack;
Yet is it Heaven even without thee
To dye; Then onely art thou black.

Phil:
Then onely art thou black my dear;
When death shall blast thy vitall light;
Whilst I in lifes bright day appear,
Thou sleepst forgot in deaths sad Night.

Dam:
Thou art thick-sighted; couldst thou see
Farre off, the other side of death
Would such a prospect open thee
As thou must needs be sick of breath.

Phil:
How can that be, when sense doth keep
The dore of pleasure? That destroyed,
The soule if it survive, must sleep,
Senselesse of delectation voyd.

Dam
Sense is the doore of such delight
As beasts receive; through which alas
(Since Nature's nothing but a fight,)
More enemies then friends do passe:
Nor is the soule lesse capable,
But naked doth her object prove
More truely; as more sensible
Is this fair hand stript of its glove.

Phil:
My Damon sure hath sufeirted
Of Phillis, and would fain get hence;
Yet mannerly he vailes his dead
Love under a divine pretence.

Dam:
Whilst I am flesh thou needst not fear
Of love in my warm breath a dearth;
For since affections earthly are
They must love thee the fairest Earth.

Phil:
If thou receive a certain good
Of pleasure in enjoying me,
'Tis wisedome then to period
Thy wishes in a certainty.

Dam:
Joyes reap'd on earth like grasped aire
Away even in enjoyment fly;
Certain are onely such as bear
The stampt of immortality.

Phil:
Shall we for hope of future blisse
The good of present Love neglect?
Who will a Wren possest dismisse,
A flying Eagle to expect?

Dam:
Who use not here the Heavenly way,
And in desire of thither go,
Will at their death uncertain stray
Losing themselves in endlesse wo.

Phil:
Since death such hazards wait upon
Ile unfrequent love's vain delight,
And wing my contemplation
For prea-equaintance with that height.

Dam:
Come then, let's feed our flocks above
On Sions hill; so will delights
Grow fresher in the vale of Love:
Change thus may whet chafte appetites.