The Fourth Volume of the Writings Of the Author of the London-Spy Prose and Verse [by Edward Ward] |
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The Resolute Lady.
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 | The Fourth Volume of the Writings Of the Author of the London-Spy |  |
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The Resolute Lady.
A Song.
Be gone, be gone, thou Traytor of my Breast,
No more betray, no more disturb my Rest,
Have I so kindly freed you from your Chains,
And to my Ruin, eas'd your love-sick Pains;
Hugg'd you so oft within my tender Arms,
Pitty'd your Wounds, and heal'd them with my Charms
And how can you at last, ingrateful Man,
Reward such faithful Love with your Disdain?
No more betray, no more disturb my Rest,
Have I so kindly freed you from your Chains,
And to my Ruin, eas'd your love-sick Pains;
Hugg'd you so oft within my tender Arms,
Pitty'd your Wounds, and heal'd them with my Charms
And how can you at last, ingrateful Man,
Reward such faithful Love with your Disdain?
But since that Love's a Boy,
So foolish and so blind,
No more shall you enjoy,
No more will I be kind;
I'll now defy his Darts,
Ne'er wounded be again,
But strive to conquer Hearts,
And triumph o'er their Pain.
No Cringes, Bows, or Sighs,
Shall my Affections win,
No Flatt'ries, Vows or Lies
Shall draw me further in;
I'll airy be, and vain,
But neither kind or true,
And thus revenge on Man,
The Wrongs I've found from you.
So foolish and so blind,
No more shall you enjoy,
No more will I be kind;
I'll now defy his Darts,
Ne'er wounded be again,
But strive to conquer Hearts,
And triumph o'er their Pain.
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Shall my Affections win,
No Flatt'ries, Vows or Lies
Shall draw me further in;
I'll airy be, and vain,
But neither kind or true,
And thus revenge on Man,
The Wrongs I've found from you.
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