(Richard Lovelace)

The Scrutinie


Why should you sweare I am forsworn,
Since thine I vowd to be?
Lady it is already Morn,
And twas last night I swore to thee
That fond impossibility.


Have I not lovd thee much and long,
A tedious twelve houres space?
I must all other Beauties wrong,
And rob thee of a new imbrace;
Could I still dote upon thy Face.


Not, but all joy in thy browne haire,
By others may be found;
But I must search the blank and faire
Like skilfull Minerallists that sound
For Treasure in un-plowd-up ground.


Then, if when I have lovd my round,
Thou provst the pleasant she;
With spoyles of meaner Beauties crownd,
I laden will returne to thee,
Evd sated with Varietie.

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