_Song._
Probably by the Earl of Pembroke.
Soules joy, now I am gone,
And you alone,
(Which cannot be,
Since I must leave my selfe with thee,
And carry thee with me) 5
Yet when unto our eyes
Absence denyes
Each others sight,
And makes to us a constant night,
When others change to light; 10
_O give no way to griefe,
But let beliefe
Of mutuall love,
This wonder to the vulgar prove
Our Bodyes, not wee move._ 15
Let not thy wit beweepe
Wounds but sense-deepe,
For when we misse
By distance our lipp-joying blisse,
Even then our soules shall kisse, 20
Fooles have no meanes to meet,
But by their feet.
Why should our clay,
Over our spirits so much sway,
To tie us to that way? 25
_O give no way to griefe, &c._
[Song. _1635-69_, _O'F_: also in the Poems &c. (1660) of
the Earle of Pembroke and S^{r} Benjamin Ruddier, and the
Lansdowne MS. 777, here it is signed E. of Pembroke._]
[1 now] when _1660_, _L77_]
[17 Wounds _L77_: Words _1635-69_, _O'F_
sense-deepe,] _no hyphen_, _1635-69_]
[18 when] while _L77_]
[19 lipp-joyning _L77_ (_not_ lives joining _as Chambers
reports_): hopes joyning _1635-69_, _O'F_]
_A Dialogue._