University of Virginia Library

The COQUET. To Chloe.

By the same Hand.

Why, Chloe, tempt me to engage,
Yet still refuse to meet?
Why throw the gauntlet on the stage,
Yet make a sly retreat?
Your eye, which in perpetual dance,
Darts forth its am'rous fires;
Whene'er I meet the ogling glance,
Beneath its lid retires.
Your little breast, which wanton heaves,
My roving heart to lure,
Slyly my wand'ring hand deceives,
And sinks within your stays secure.
Your hand, with seeming heedlessness,
On mine, you careless lay;
Which, when I would the rover press,
Flies from the equal touch away.
Perhaps, you'll say, you mean no ill;
Why, then, ensnare my heart?
And thus, with tantalizing skill,
Coquet, and jilt, with ev'ry part?
Or promise less, or more perform,
Chloe—is my advice;
For, surely, I shall take by storm,
If you continue to entice.