University of Virginia Library

Perjury excus'd.

Alas it is too late! I can no more
Love now, then I have lov'd before:
My Flora, 'tis my Fate, not I;
And what you call Contempt, is Destiny.
I am no Monster sure, I cannot show
Two hearts; one I already ow:
And I have bound my self with oaths, and vowed
Oftner I fear then Heaven hath ere allowed,
That Faces now should work no more on me,
Then if they could not charm, or I not see.
And shall I break them? shall I think you can
Love, if I could, so foul a perjur'd man?
Oh no, 'tis equally impossible that I
Should love again, or you love Perjury.
J. S.