Gertrude Aston Thimelby

“ You give to all, but can receave from none.
Let me recall that hasty word, you may
Only from him whom you have chose to-day.
Equall your merit is, your power is soe,
And all you are to one another owe. ”

“ On some calme streame bestowes his brightest ray.
But death inform'd us that the goale was wonne
Before the race did seeme to us begunne.
It were a sin to wish her here againe;
But pardon if I say that all the paine
For such a losse, belongs not so to you
But we may challenge equall portions too.
We rivall not, but thus our title prove,
Though yours by nature, she was ours by love. ”

“ In favor of our eyes we must be gon,
For if we stay, we shall pertake a moane
Not common, since all obiects speake this crosse
As no particular but a general losse.
Come gratitude, and let selfe-love depart;
Weele stay and hear it, though it breake our hart. ”

“ Hath more o' th' court or th' university.
To me, at distance, the result is cleare,
All notions meete to crowne your happy yeare.
Madam, observe a poets crafty thrift,
That makes anothers stock his new-yeares-guift. ”

“ Refuse not humble presents from the poore,
And though it cannot add to ther estate,
Are pleas'd to valew't at the givers rate,
You will accept our wealth, an ernest care,
And for your happynes a fervent praire. ”

“ He your senses' welcome guest,
Treates your soules now with a feast.
Tis his powerfull praires give you
All good here, and heaven too.
Yet hence your comfort most will rise,
God loves the child that quickly dies. ”

“ That good intentions are no sin;
Judge we must not by the event,
What the servise ought t' have bin.
Heere plenty only makes me poore,
Commands me speake, and hold my peace;
When all is saide, yet you have more
Perfections as your dayes increase. ”

“ Wilfull abusers of his diety;
Whose weake opinions, and whose feavorish flame,
Pretend his right, but doe abuse his name.
Such are the idle likers of a face,
Who leave the soule for the fantastick case ”

“ Who t' ease his paine suckt his invenom'd soare?
And that brave dame, who, following her lord,
Stept still before at sight oth' frightful sword,
Making her breast his buckler, fully prov'd,
That it was him and not herselfe she lov'd.
Say, truth with fables here you mixed see,
That shews who were, and these how we may be.
If you alleage those golden dayes are done,
Our iron age will not afford me one
Of that fam'd stamp, in all things els I yeald,
But in this cause I dare mentaine the field;
And nere goe farther, though I'me sure you'de finde,
If not mongst men, most women of this minde. ”

“ From them no doubt you may, the only way,
Learne to prevent your fatal destinye,
Your present trouble, horrour when you dy.
For if them, as your mammon, you despise,
Youle live in peace, and at your setting rise. ”