96
COWLEY'S POEMS.
COUNSEL.
Ah! what advice can I receive!
No, satisfy me first;
For who would physick-potions give
To one that dies with thirst?
No, satisfy me first;
For who would physick-potions give
To one that dies with thirst?
A little puff of breath, we find,
Small fires can quench and kill;
But, when they're great, the adverse wind
Does make them greater still.
Small fires can quench and kill;
But, when they're great, the adverse wind
Does make them greater still.
Now whilst you speak, it moves me much,
But straight I'm just the same;
Alas! th' effect must needs be such
Of cutting through a flame.
But straight I'm just the same;
Alas! th' effect must needs be such
Of cutting through a flame.
THE CURE.
Come, doctor! use thy roughest art,
Thou canst not cruel prove;
Cut, burn, and torture, every part,
To heal me of my love.
Thou canst not cruel prove;
Cut, burn, and torture, every part,
To heal me of my love.
