Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If, when she appears i' th' room, Thou dost not quake, and art struck dumb, And in striving this to cover Dost not speak thy words twice, over; Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If fondly thou dost not mistake, Persuad'st thyself that jests are broken, Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If when thou appear'st to be within, Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If when thy stomach calls to eat, Dost not rise hungry from the place; Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If by this thou dost discover That thou art no perfect lover; And, desiring to love true, Thou dost begin to love anew; Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. 'Tis now, since I sat down before That foolish fort, a heart, (Time strangely spent!) a year and more, And still I did my part: Made my approaches, from her hand Unto her lip did rise; And did already understand The language of her eyes: Proceeded on with no less art; When this did nothing, I brought down A thousand thousand to the town, And still it yielded not. I then resolv'd to starve the place, To draw her out and from her strength, I drew all batteries in ; And brought myself to lie, at length, When I had done what man could do, And thought the place mine own, The enemy lay quiet too, And smil'd at all was done. I sent to know, from whence, and where, A These hopes and this relief? spy inform'd, Honour was there, And did command in chief, "March, march," quoth I; "the word straight give, "Let's lose no time, but leave her; "That giant upon air will live, "And hold it out for ever. "To such a place our camp remove A Ballad upon a Wedding.* I TELL thee, Dick, where I have been, * Occasioned by the marriage of Roger Boyle, the first earl of Orrery (then Lord Broghill), with lady Margaret Howard, daughter of the earl of Suffolk. Oh! things without compare! Such sights again cannot be found In any place on English ground, Be it at wake or fair. At Charing-cross, hard by the way And there did I see coming down Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine (His beard no bigger though than thine) Walk'd on before the rest : Our landlord looks like nothing to him; At course-a-park, without all doubt, By all the maids i' th' town ; Or Vincent of the Crown. But, wot you what? the youth was going |