I. <br />Chloe, behold! againe I bowe: <br />Againe possest, againe I woe; <br /> From my heat hath taken fire <br /> Damas, noble youth, and fries, <br /> Gazing with one of mine eyes, <br /> Damas, halfe of me expires: <br />Chloe, behold! Our fate's the same. <br />Or make me cinders too, or quench his flame <br /> <br /> II. <br />I'd not be King, unlesse there sate <br />Lesse lords that shar'd with me in state <br /> Who, by their cheaper coronets, know, <br /> What glories from my diadem flow: <br /> Its use and rate values the gem: <br /> Pearles in their shells have no esteem; <br />And, I being sun within thy sphere, <br />'Tis my chiefe beauty thinner lights shine there. <br /> <br /> III. <br />The Us'rer heaps unto his store <br />By seeing others praise it more; <br /> Who not for gaine or want doth covet, <br /> But, 'cause another loves, doth love it: <br /> Thus gluttons cloy'd afresh invite <br /> Their gusts from some new appetite; <br />And after cloth remov'd, and meate, <br />Fall too againe by seeing others eate.<br /><br />Richard Lovelace<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-chloe-courting-her-for-his-friend/
