To his Mistriss.

A Flame as sacred as the vowes of those,
Who to devotion do their lifes dispose.
My love has nourish'd and to you,
It is an off'ring due.
And with you let it burne,
Though I may hope but small return;
Yet may my doubtfull thoughts have rest,
To know 'tis harbour'd in your breast.
Where is but kindly cherish'd I'le not fear,
But it may kindle the like passion there.

A flame it is as chast as your own thought,
Free from the vices Nature would have taught;
Refin'd by virtues that attend,
A Lover and a friend.
With freedom then you may receive,
What with such Innocence I give;
And if some heat from you't procures,
Ther's still no fear of hurting yours.
For in that Love no poyson is conv…y'd,
Where friendship is the chief ingredient m….

My love thus lodg'd I could contented live,
But when I think how true how much I give;
Your gen'rous mind bids me expect,
From you the like effect.
Then fear not boldly to bestow,
Your love where you in reason owe.
For that and Justice too will say,
It is a debt you ought to pay;
But if your inclination disapprove,
My resolution shall be still to love.