LI

    Thus can my love excuse the slow offence Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed： From where thou art why should I haste me thence？ Till I return, of posting is no need. O！ what excuse will my poor beast then find, When swift extremity¹ can seem but slow？ Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind, In winged speed n：motion shall I know, Then can no horse with my desire keep pace； Therefore desire, of perfect'st love being made, Shall neigh——no dull flesh——in his fiery² race； But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade,—— 'Since from thee going, he went wilful-slow, Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.'