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 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, And short my time to ferve her? 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 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 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, 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, 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; 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 That may pluck the virgin roses 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 : 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: 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: |