The poems of John Wilmot: Earl of Rochester | ||
Strephon.
Prithee now, fond Fool, give o're;
Since my heart is gone before,
To what purpose shou'd I stay?
Love Commands another way.
Daphne.
Perjur'd Swain, I knew the time
When Dissembling was your Crime.
In pity now employ that Art
Which first betray'd, to ease my heart.
Strephon.
Women can with pleasure feign:
Men dissemble still with pain.
What advantage will it prove
If I lye, who cannot love?
Daphne.
Tell me then the Reason why,
Love from Hearts in love does flye?
Why the Bird will build a Nest,
Where he ne're intends to rest?
Strephon.
Love, like other little Boys,
Cries for Hearts, as they for Toys:
Which, when gain'd, in Childish Play,
Wantonly are thrown away.
Prithee now, fond Fool, give o're;
Since my heart is gone before,
To what purpose shou'd I stay?
Love Commands another way.
Daphne.
Perjur'd Swain, I knew the time
When Dissembling was your Crime.
In pity now employ that Art
Which first betray'd, to ease my heart.
Strephon.
Women can with pleasure feign:
Men dissemble still with pain.
What advantage will it prove
If I lye, who cannot love?
Daphne.
Tell me then the Reason why,
Love from Hearts in love does flye?
Why the Bird will build a Nest,
Where he ne're intends to rest?
13
Love, like other little Boys,
Cries for Hearts, as they for Toys:
Which, when gain'd, in Childish Play,
Wantonly are thrown away.
The poems of John Wilmot: Earl of Rochester | ||