SONG XXXVII.
[Away (you Fool!) will thou Love less]
1
Away (you Fool!) will thou Love less,
Now, thou know'st, I Love more?
And tax me, with unfaithfulness,
'Cause I was sure before!
Love, like all other goods, diffus'd, is best:
Nor can One claim, an interest,
But others may, as much (at least)
I Lov'd her, Love you, and will Love the rest.
2
The next, that hath my Fancy Wonne,
I'le serve as I serv'd you;
Why shouldst thou grudg anothers boon!
I'de give, the Devil his due.
What though thy Body, pleasure find!
Wilt thou, therefore, ingross my minde!
When Heaven (surely) ne're assign'd
Man, to one Woman, but to Woman kind.
3
Who marry, do live single; and who have
A Union made, of two
Do, of that Nature, make a slave,
That, never made, them so:
Variety (as some do hold)
The gods delight in, and (of old)
Women, that were, for Saints, inroll'd,
Coupled at will, and shall Man be contrould!
