To his Rival.

NOw we have taught our Love to know
That it must creep where't cannot go▪
And be for once content to live,
Since here it cannot have to thrive;
It will not be amisse t'enquire
What fuel should maintain this fire:
For fires do either flame too high,
Or where they cannot flame, they die.
First then (my half but better heart)
Know this must wholy be her part;
(For thou and I, like Clocks, are wound
Up to the height, and must move round)
She then by still denying what
We fondly crave, shall such a rate
Set on each trifle, that a kisse
Shall come to be the utmost blisse.
Where sparks and fire do meet with tinder,
Those sparks meer fire will still engender:
To make this good, no debt shall be
From service or fidelity;
For she shall ever pay that score,
By onely bidding us do more:
So (though she still a niggard be)
In graceing, where none's due, shee's free:
The favors she shall cast on us,
(Least we should grow presumptuous)
Shall not with too much love be shown,
Nor yet the common way still done;
But ev'ry smile and little glance
Shall look half lent, and half by chance:
The Ribbon, Fan, or Muffe that she
Would should be kept by thee or me,
Should not be giv'n before to many,
But neither thrown to's when there's any;
So that her self should doubtful be
Whether 'twere fortune flung't, or she.
She shall not like the thing we do
Sometimes, and yet shall like it too;
Nor any notice take at all
Of what, we gone, she would extol:
Love she shall feed, but fear to nourish,
For where fear is, love cannot flourish;
Yet live it must, nay must and shall,
While Desdemona is at all:
But when shee's gone, then Love shall die,
And in her grave buried lie.