The Works of Abraham Cowley/Volume 2/The Rich Rival
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THE RICH RIVAL.
They say you 're angry, and rant mightily,
Because I love the same as you:
Alas! you 're very rich, ’tis true;
But, pr'ythee, fool! what's that to Love and me?
You 'ave land and money, let that serve;
And know you 'ave more by that than you deserve.
Because I love the same as you:
Alas! you 're very rich, ’tis true;
But, pr'ythee, fool! what's that to Love and me?
You 'ave land and money, let that serve;
And know you 'ave more by that than you deserve.
When next I see my fair-one, she shall know
How worthless thou art of her bed;
And, wretch! I'll strike thee dumb and dead,
With noble verse not understood by you;
Whilst thy sole rhetorick shall be
"Jointure" and "jewels," and "our friends agree."
How worthless thou art of her bed;
And, wretch! I'll strike thee dumb and dead,
With noble verse not understood by you;
Whilst thy sole rhetorick shall be
"Jointure" and "jewels," and "our friends agree."
Pox o' your friends, that dote and domineer!
Lovers are better friends than they:
Let's those in other things obey;
The Fates, and Stars, and Gods, must govern here.
Vain names of blood! in love let none
Advise with any blood, but with their own.
Lovers are better friends than they:
Let's those in other things obey;
The Fates, and Stars, and Gods, must govern here.
Vain names of blood! in love let none
Advise with any blood, but with their own.
’Tis that which bids me this bright maid adore;
No other thought has had access!
Did she now beg, I'd love no less,
And, were she an empress, I should love no more:
Were she as just and true to me,
Ah, simple soul! what would become of thee?
No other thought has had access!
Did she now beg, I'd love no less,
And, were she an empress, I should love no more:
Were she as just and true to me,
Ah, simple soul! what would become of thee?