To Mr. Davenant for Absence.

WOnder not if I stay not here,
Hurt Lovers (like to wounded Deer)
Must shift the place▪ for standing still
Leaves too much time to know our ill:
Where there is a Traytor eye
That lets in from th'enemy
All that may supplant an heart,
'Tis time the Chief should use some Art;
Who parts the object from the sence,
Wisely cuts off intelligence.
O how quickly men must die,
Should they stand all Loves Battery;
Persindaes eyes great mischief do,
So do we know the Canon too;
But men are safe at distance still,
Where they reach not, they cannot kill.
Love is a fit, and soon is past,
Ill dyet onely makes it last;
Who is still looking, gazing ever,
Drinks wine i'th' very height o'th' Fever.