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An Answer to a Song call'd Fair Archybella to whose eyes, &c.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

An Answer to a Song call'd Fair Archybella to whose eyes, &c.

1

My Dearest) Archybella's eyes,
Though ne're so fair shall not dispise,
But own thy loyal sacrifice.

2

Nay, were she cruel, and a while,
Her frowns like Midnight day exile,
'Twere noon again shouldst thou but smile.

3

We like our Lodging and protest,
So you provide a faithful breast,
To vow our self Your constant guest.

32

4

Nor need You fear since You impart
Your Wounds so fresh, but we have Art,
And Balsom too, to ease Your smart.

5

Let not a thought that Death may give,
Molest thee, doubt not thou to live
If smiles or Tears may but reprieve.

6

Dread not (my Dear) so dire a doom,
Forbid it Heaven, the hour should come
That thou shouldst suffer Martyrdom.