Yet in this thou may'ft believe me,

(So indifferent though I seem)

Death with tortures would not grieve me More, than loss of thy esteem.

For, if virtue me forsake,

All a fcorn of me will make.

Then, as I, on thee relying,

Do no changing fear in thee, So, by my defects supplying,

From all changing keep thou me: That unmatched we may prove, Thou for beauty, I for love.

SAD

eyes,

what do you ail,

To be thus ill-difpofed ?

Why doth your fleeping fail,

Now all men's elfe are clofed?

Was't I, that ne'er did bow
In any fervile duty,
And will you make me now
A flave to love and beauty?

What hopes have I, that she

Will hold her favours ever, When fo few women be

That conftant can perfever?

Whate'er she do protest,

When fortunes do deceive me, Then fhe, with all the reft,

I fear, alas, will leave me.

Shall then, in earnest truth,
My careful eyes obferve her?
Shall I confume my youth,

And short my time to ferve her?
Shall I, beyond my strength,
Let paffion's torments move me?
To hear her fay at length,

O, rather let me die

Whilft I thus gentle find her; "Twere worse than death if I

Should find fhe proves unkinder! One frown, though but in jeft,

Or one unkindness feigned,

Would rob me of more rest
Than e'er could be regained.

But in her eyes I find

Such figns of pity moving, She cannot be unkind,

Nor err, nor fail in loving.

And, on her forehead, this
Seems written to relieve me,
My heart no joy fhall miss,
That love or she can give me.

And this fhall be the worst

Of all that can betide me,

If I, like fome, accurs'd,

Should find my hopes deride me; My cares fhall not be long;

I know which way to mend them: I'll think who did the wrong,

Sigh, break my heart, and end them.

THE STEDFAST SHEPHERD.

HENCE, away, thou fyren, leave me,
Pish! unclafp these wanton arms;
Sugar'd words can ne'er deceive me,
(Though thou prove a thousand charms);
Fie, fie, forbear,

No common fnare

Can ever my affection chain:

Thy painted baits,

And poor deceits,

Are all beftow'd on me in vain.

I'm no flave to fuch as you be,
Neither shall that snowy breast,
Rolling eye, and lip of ruby,

Ever rob me of my

Go, go, display

Thy beauty's ray

reft:

To fome more-foon-enamour'd swain:

Those common wiles,

Of fighs and fmiles,

Are all beftow'd on me in vain.

I have elsewhere vow'd a duty;
Turn away thy tempting eye:
Shew not me a painted beauty,
These impoftures I defy:
My spirit loaths

Where gaudy cloaths,

And feigned oaths, may love obtain:

I love her fo,

Whofe look fwears no;

That all thy labours will be vain.

Can he prize the tainted pofies
Which on every breast are worn,

That may pluck the virgin roses
From their never-touched thorn?
I can go reft

On her fweet breast,

That is the pride of Cynthia's train: Then stay thy tongue,

Thy mermaid fong

Is all beftow'd on me in vain.

He's a fool that bafely dallies

Where each peasant mates with him; Shall I haunt the thronged valleys, Whilft there's nobler hills to climb? No, no; though clowns

Are fcar'd with frowns,

I know the best can but difdain :
And thofe I'll prove,

So will thy love

Be all bestow'd on me in vain.

I do fcorn to vow a duty,

Where each luftful lad may woo:
Give me her, whofe fun-like beauty
Buzzards dare not foar unto;
She, fhe it is

Affords that bliss

For which I would refuse no pain:

But fuch as you,

Fond fools, adieu;

You seek to captive me in vain.

Leave me then, you fyrens, leave me,

Seek no more to work my harms; Crafty wiles cannot deceive me,

Who am proof against your

charms: