46
Tixall Poetry.
This so defin'd, you may inferre from hence,
My self-love's only, in its proper sense,
In my owne good a fitting complacence.
My self-love's only, in its proper sense,
In my owne good a fitting complacence.
And so deduce, all such who ruinate,
To raise their bodys welth, their soûles estate,
Not to be sayd themselves to love, but hate.
To raise their bodys welth, their soûles estate,
Not to be sayd themselves to love, but hate.
Yet not to build on empty words, if you
Wil call it self-love, as the vulgar doe,
I feare in this we are self-lovers too.
Wil call it self-love, as the vulgar doe,
I feare in this we are self-lovers too.
For such self-love in every vice we see,
And who from every little vice is free,
Has surely more of angell much then me.
And who from every little vice is free,
Has surely more of angell much then me.
But here our blindnesse shews, how too too true,
Such love's but pride, and brookes not its owne vew
Since we were humble, if our pride we knew.
Such love's but pride, and brookes not its owne vew
Since we were humble, if our pride we knew.
To over-value my owne vertue, weire
Not love but fondnesse, and to recken deare
My vice, weire ignorance, or doatage cleare.
Not love but fondnesse, and to recken deare
My vice, weire ignorance, or doatage cleare.
