There never yet was honest man That ever drove the trade of love; It is impossible, nor can Integrity our ends promove: For Kings and Lovers are alike in this That their chief art in reigne dissembling is. Here we are lov'd, and there we love, Good nature now and passion strive Which of the two should be above, And laws unto the other give. So we false fire with art sometime discover, And the true fire with the same art do cover. What Rack can Fancy find so high? Here we must Court, and here ingage, Though in the other place we die. O! 'tis torture all, and cozenage; And which the harder is I cannot tell, To hide true love, or make false love looke well. Since it is thus, God of desire, Give me my honesty again, And take thy brands back, and thy fire; I'm weary of the State I'm in: Since (if the very best should now befal) Loves Triumph, must be Honours Funeral. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN SHE COMES HOME by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 38 by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON BEHIND TIME by ALEXANDER ANDERSON NOVEMBER 4TH, 1937 by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) THIERRY AND THEODORET by FRANCIS BEAUMONT A SECRET SIGH by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |