By Heav'n, and all its Gods I swear,
Or if a greater Oath there be,
There's not a God inhabits there
But what would Barter all his Heav'n for thee.
Ev'n Jove himself, their Father and their King,
Would leave his Grandeur and his Throne
And turn a Bird, a Beast, or any thing;
Might he possess but thee alone.

I swear there is no greater Happiness,
Or if there be, I can no greater guess,
Then 'tis to sit and gaze
On the rare Beauties of thy face:
Ev'n Heav'n it self would that fair Prospect prize
And look for ever with unwearied view,
And tho it look'd with all its Eyes
'Twould still confess 'em all too few.

They say, 'tis all the Heav'n the Blessed know
To view the Mirror of the Deity;
I'm sure 'tis all my Heav'n below
To look on thee,
That's here the Beatifick Sight to me,
And 'tis my Hell when I thy Presence must forgo.

To read my Destinies,
I'll not consult the Planets of the Skies,
But those more radiant Stars thine Eyes;
If these appear benign,
Let other Stars with any Aspect shine;
So we are in Conjunction,
I fear not theirs, nor what it can portend,
My Fates on that, not this depend,
They all depend on that alone.

To what a cumbersome unwieldiness
And burdensome corpulence my love had grown,
But that I did, to make it less,
And keep it in proportion,
Give it a diet, made it feed upon
That which love worst endures, discretion.

Above one sigh a day I allowed him not,
Of which my fortune and my faults had part;
And if sometimes by stealth he got
A she sigh from my mistress’s heart,
And thought to feast on that, I let him see
’Twas neither very sound, nor meant for me.

If he wrung from me a tear, I brined it so
With scorn or shame, that him it nourished not;
If he sucked hers, I let him know
’Twas not a tear which he had got;
His drink was counterfeit, as was his meat;
For eyes which roll towards all weep not, but sweat.

Whatever he would dictate, I wrote that,
But burnt my letters; when she wrote to me,
And that that favour made him fat,
I said, if any title be
Conveyed by this, ah, what does it avail
To be the fortieth name in an entail?

Thus I reclaimed my buzzard love, to fly
At what, and when, and how, and where I choose;
Now negligent of sport I lie,
And now as other falconers use,
I spring a mistress, swear, write, sigh and weep;
And the game killed or lost, go talk, and sleep.