The card of courtship: or the language of love; fitted to the humours of all degrees, sexes, and conditions. Made up of all sorts of curious and ingenious dialogues, pithy and pleasant discourses, eloquent and winning letters, delicious songs and sonnets, fine fancies, harmonious odes, sweet rhapsodies.

Five Lyrick Pieces.

To my noble friend, Mr. Theodor Loe.

GO, pale-fac'd paper, to my dear, And whisper this into her ear: Though I absent am, yet she Keeping thee, embraces me.

Let no rude hand dare to touch thee; Care not, though a thousand grutch thee Of that bliss, which, in her hive, Thou enjoyst, till I arrive: And be sure, thou dost not flie From the glances of her eye: Where she goes, be thou about her; Gad not thou abroad without her. Let not any dare to see What's between my love and thee: Nay, and when she haps to sleep, Gently to her bosome creep; Where (I charge thee) rest till shee With her kisses waken thee. Go, and prosper for a space, Till I rob thee of thy place.

The resolute Lover.

WHat care I, though she be faire Hair, snow-like hand, or sun-like eye, If in that beauty I not share? Were shee deformed, what care I? What care I, though she be foul Haire, swarthy-hand, or sun-burnt eye. So long as I enjoy her soul? Let her be so, what care I? Dim sight is coz'ned with a gloss Of gawdy gown, or hum'rous haire; Such gold, in melting, leaves more dross Then some unpolisht prices share. Be she faire, or foul, or either, Or made up of both together: Be her heart mine, haire, hand, or eye, Be what it will; why, what care I?

The Lovers protestation.

PRetty wanton, prethee say, Did you see my heart to day? Marks to know it you shall finde; Alwaies constant, true and kinde: Wounds about it, it doth bear; Drops are tricklig, here and there: In which wounds you'll find a dart Shot by you, into my heart. If you saw it, do not blush; The wounds are fresh, and bloud will gush Into your face; and you be known To cover more then is your own: Send it back; but let it be Sound, as when it came to thee. Do not think for to deny it; These are tokens will descry it. How can I subsist and live, When my owne you will not give? Yet if you will send to me Yours in faire exchange, I'll be Mute, and not report that I Suffer by your cruelty. Then I prethee, let me know, If you will exchange, or no.

Question.

WHat is that freedome which men call A blessedness to sport withall? Or what those joys, which Lovers deem To equalize their best esteem? I long to know, that I may see The difference 'twixt those joyes and me.

Answer.

Then know, loves joies are such as still Are subject to Fates supream will; And every hour the Lover finds Cross friends, cross stars, and stormy winds; Till Seas grow calm, and we arrive At loves eternal peaceful hive. If patience then may bring me ease, Swell big, a while, you boyst'rous seas.