Tixall Poetry.
223
An Epistle
in Answer to Ephelia.
Madam,
If you're deceav'd, it is not by my cheat,
For all disguises are below the great.
What man or woman upon earth can say,
I ever us'd 'em well above a day?
How is it then that I inconstant am?
He changes not who allwayes is the same.
In my deare selfe I centre every thing;
My servants, friends, my mistress, and my king;
Nay, heaven and earth to that one point I bring.
Well manner'd, honest, generous, and stout,
Names by dull fooles to plague mankind found out,
Should I regard, I must my selfe constrain,
And 'tis my maxim to avoid all paine.
If you're deceav'd, it is not by my cheat,
For all disguises are below the great.
What man or woman upon earth can say,
I ever us'd 'em well above a day?
How is it then that I inconstant am?
He changes not who allwayes is the same.
In my deare selfe I centre every thing;
My servants, friends, my mistress, and my king;
Nay, heaven and earth to that one point I bring.
Well manner'd, honest, generous, and stout,
Names by dull fooles to plague mankind found out,
Should I regard, I must my selfe constrain,
And 'tis my maxim to avoid all paine.
