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Poems

or, A Miscellany of Sonnets, Satyrs, Drollery, Panegyricks, Elegies, &c. At the Instance, and Request of Several Friends, Times, and Occasions, Composed; and now at their command Collected, and Committed to the Press. By the Author, M. Stevenson
 
 

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To a Coy Lady that wou'd not come to a Treat.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

To a Coy Lady that wou'd not come to a Treat.

And wou'd not that imperious Clora come?
Troth I'm glad on't, let her keep at home.
And banquet on the barren walls, proud creature
Whilst I for this small charge escape a greater.
My wishes are no more to see her face,
E're such a Juno, I'le a Cloud embrace:
Her fancy, faith, will ne'er with mine agree,
If she presume I should her shadow be.
I'm of too clear a spirit, never stir,
Run to the Devil, I'le ne'er follow her.
Let her create a Mantle of the dark,
Daphne be dam'd and smother'd in her bark.

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Has she so much, or else so little grace,
She dare not look an honest Man i'th' face?
If shame with held her? be that shame proclaim'd
A shame of which, even shame might be asham'd.