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Richard Lovelace - To the Right Hon. My Lady Anne Lovelace
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To the richest Treasury 
That e`er fill`d ambitious eye; 
To the faire bright Magazin 
Hath impoverisht Love`s Queen; 
To th` Exchequer of all honour 
(All take pensions but from her); 
To the taper of the thore 
Which the god himselfe but bore; 
To the Sea of Chaste Delight; 
Let me cast the Drop I write. 
      And as at Loretto`s shrine 
Caesar shovels in his mine, 
Th` Empres spreads her carkanets, 
The lords submit their coronets, 
Knights their chased armes hang by, 
Maids diamond-ruby fancies tye; 
Whilst from the pilgrim she wears 
One poore false pearl, but ten true tears: 
      So among the Orient prize, 
(Saphyr-onyx eulogies) 
Offer`d up unto your fame, 
Take my garnet-dublet name, 
And vouchsafe `midst those rich joyes 
(With devotion) these toyes.
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