264
Tixall Poetry.
A general pitty is a vertue taught,
But general love a crime was ever thought.
Nature to man does but one hart allow,
But they do multiply it to hundreds now;
And to each object, which your covetous sense
Makes you desire, you can a hart dispence.
Like those appearing spirits, form'd of air,
Which come to touch, we find no substance there.
Thus you turn cheats in love, and juglers play,
And seem to give, yet nothing give away.
Your bounty never makes your wealth grow less,
The harts you're born with, dying you possess;
Only you brought them without perjur'd stain,
But with a thousand carry them back again.
'Tis those false vows and oaths which you express
Give your love credit, and your hopes success.
Thus to your pride you injur'd trophys raise,
But they at last will wither all your bays.
Seeking to ruine, you may ruine finde;
Fortune is sometimes just as well as blind.
They'r less than child, will lend their money out,
When they both principal and interest doubt.
But general love a crime was ever thought.
Nature to man does but one hart allow,
But they do multiply it to hundreds now;
And to each object, which your covetous sense
Makes you desire, you can a hart dispence.
Like those appearing spirits, form'd of air,
Which come to touch, we find no substance there.
Thus you turn cheats in love, and juglers play,
And seem to give, yet nothing give away.
Your bounty never makes your wealth grow less,
The harts you're born with, dying you possess;
Only you brought them without perjur'd stain,
But with a thousand carry them back again.
'Tis those false vows and oaths which you express
Give your love credit, and your hopes success.
Thus to your pride you injur'd trophys raise,
But they at last will wither all your bays.
Seeking to ruine, you may ruine finde;
Fortune is sometimes just as well as blind.
They'r less than child, will lend their money out,
When they both principal and interest doubt.
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