The guardian, a comedie acted before Prince Charls, His Highness at Trinity-Colledg in Cambridge, upon the twelfth of March, 1641
Cowley, Abraham, 1618-1667.

Act 1. Scaen. 7.

Truman filius, Lucia.
Tru.
Stay, Lucia, prithee stay; I had forgot
The business which I came for.
Luc.
I owe much
To your forgetfulness, my Truman: if
It be such always, though you forget me,
I'll pardon you. What was your business, pray?
Tru.
To kiss your hand, my dearest.
Luc.
Was that all?
I'm glad to see your grief so small and light,
That it can finde leasure to complement:
'Tis not like mine, believe me.
Tru.
Was not that business, Lucia?
In my opinion now, th'affairs of Kings,
The honourable troubles of a Counsellor,
Are frivolous and light, compar'd to this.
May I not kiss your lips too, dearest Lucia?
I have an inward dropsie; and my remedy
Enflames my thirst: tis that best Nectar onely
Which has the power to quench it.
Luc.
If there be Nectar there,
It was your lip that brought it thither first;
And you may well be bold to claim your own.
Shall we sit down and talk a little while?
They will allow us sure a parting-time.
Tru
And that I would not change, not this poor minute
In which I see, and hear, and touch thee, Lucia,
For th'age of Angels, unless thy lov'd pre∣sence
Make a heav'n there for me too.
What shall I do to bring the days t'an end?
Sure they'll be tedious when I want thy company.
Luc.
I'll pray for the success of our chaste loves,
And drop down tears for beads.
Tru.
I'll read o'er the large volume of the creatures;
And where I finde one full of grace and beauty,
I'll gaze and think on that; for that's thy picture.
Luc.
Whatever kinde of Needle-work I make,
Thy name I'll intermingle, till at last,
Without my mindes conjunction and con∣sent,
The needle and my hand shall both agree
To draw thy name out.
Tru.
I will gather flowers,
Turn wanton in the truness of my love,
And make a posie too, where Luia
Shall be mysteriously writ in flow'rs:
Page  [unnumbered]They shall be fair and sweet, such as may paint
And speak thee to my senses.
Within.
Mistress Lucia, Lucia.
Luc.
I am call'd: farewel.