[54.] Wrong me no more in thy complaint
I
VVrong me no more in thy complaint,
Blam'd for inconstancy;
I vow'd t'adore the fairest Saint,
Nor chang'd whilst thou wert she:
But if another thee outshine,
Th'inconstancy is onely Thine.
II
To be by such
Blind Fools admir'd
Gives thee but small esteem,
By whom as much
Thou'dst be desir'd
Didst thou less beautious seem:
Sure why they love they know not wel,
Who why they should not cannot tel.
III
Women are by
Themselves bettay'd,
And to their short joys cruel,
Who foolishly
Themselves perswade
Flames can outlast their fuel:
None (though Platonick their pretence)
With Reason love unless by Sence.
IV
And He, by whose
Command to Thee
I did my heart resigne,
Now bids me choose
A Deity
Diviner far then thine:
No power from Love can Beauty sever;
I'me still Loves subject, thine was never.
V
The fairest She
Whom none surpass
To love hath only right,
And such to me
Thy Beauty was
Till one I found more bright:
But 'twere as impious to adore
Thee now, as not to have don't before.
VI
Nor is it just
By rules of Love
Thou should'st deny to quit
A heart that must
Anothers prove
Ev'n in thy right to it:
Must not thy Subjects Captives be
To her who triumphs over Thee?
VII
Cease then in vain
To blot my name
With forg'd Apostasie,
Thine is that stain
Who dar'st to claim
What others ask of Thee:
Of Lovers they are onely true
Who pay their hearts where they are due.
