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Yet in this thou may'st believe me,

(So indifferent though I feem) Death with tortures would not grieve me

More, than loss of thy esteem.
For, if virtue me forsake,
All a scorn 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-disposed ? Why doth your sleeping fail,

Now all men's else are closed ?
Was't I, that ne'er did bow

In any servile duty,
And will you make me now

A slave to love and beauty ?

What hopes have I, that she

Will hold her favours ever, When so few women be

That constant can persever?

Whate'er she do protest,

When fortunes do deceive me, Then she, with all the rest,

I fear, alas, will leave me.

Shall then, in earnest truth,

My careful eyes observe her? Shall I consume my youth,

And short my time to serve her ? Shall I, beyond my strength,

Let pafsion's torments move me? To hear her say at length,

Away-I cannot love thee.”

99

O, rather let me die

Whilft I thus gentle find her ; 'Twere worse than death if I Should find she

proves

unkinder! One frown, though but in jest,

Or one unkindness feigned, Would rob me of more rest

Than e'er could be regained.

But in her eyes I find

Such signs 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 shall miss,

That love or she can give me.

And this shall be the worst

Of all that can betide me, If I, like fome, accurs'd,

Should find my hopes deride me; My cares shall 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! unclasp these wanton arms; Sugar'd words can ne'er deceive me, (Though thou prove a thousand charms);

Fie, fie, forbear,

No common snare
Can ever my affection chain:

Thy painted baits,

And poor deceits,
Are all bestow'd on me in vain.

I'm no save to such as you be,

Neither shall that snowy breaft,
Rolling eye, and lip of ruby,
Ever rob me of my rest :

Go, go, display

Thy beauty's ray To some more-foon-enamour'd fwain :

Those common wiles,

Of sighs and smiles,
Are all bestow'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 so,

Whose look swears 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 ?

go

rest
On her sweet breast,

I can

That is the pride of Cynthia's train :

Then stay thy tongue,

Thy mermaid fong
Is all bestow'd on me in vain.
He's a fool that basely 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 scar'd with frowns,
I know the best can but disdain ;

And those 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, whose sun-like beauty Buzzards dare not foar unto :

She, she it is

Affords that bliss
For which I would refuse no pain :

But such 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 :

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