63. The Ruine.
1
I Wish that I had never known thee;
Oh that I could not dote upon thee,
Nor adore
Thy alluring lips and eyes
(To which my wanton fancy flies)
Any more!
2
Thy inchanting grace and beauty
(To which Adonis ows a duty)
Have inshrin'd
Deep within that fatal chest
Of thy yet unrelenting brest
All my mind.
3
It is reason thou shouldst carry
The Penal burthen which burglary
Doth require;
For thy penetrating ray
Has broke my house, and stol'n away
My desire.
4
Gentle thief thou hast undone me,
If thou wilt not reflect upon me,
I must go
Unto the dead, then for my sake
Restore my heart again, or take
Me also.