University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The poetical and dramatic works of Sir Charles Sedley

Collected and Edited from the Old Editions: With a preface on the text, explanatory and textual notes, an appendix containing works of doubtful authenticity, and a bibliography: By V. de Sola Pinto

collapse sectionI. 
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
XXXII THE INDIFFERENCE
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 XLIV. 
 XLV. 
 XLVI. 
 XLVII. 
 XLVIII. 
 XLIX. 
 L. 
 LI. 
 LII. 
 LIII. 
 LIV. 
 LV. 
 LVI. 
 LVII. 
 LVIII. 
collapse section 
 LIX. 
 LX. 
 LXI. 
 LXII. 
 LXIII. 
 LXIV. 
 LXV. 
 LXVI. 
 LXVII. 
 LXVIII. 
 LXIX. 
 LXX. 
 LXXI. 
 LXXII. 
 LXXIII. 
 LXXIV. 
 LXXV. 
 LXXVI. 
 LXXVII. 
 LXXVIII. 
 LXXIX. 
 LXXX. 
 LXXXI. 
 LXXXII. 
 LXXXIII. 
 LXXXIV. 
 LXXXV. 
 LXXXVI. 
 LXXXVII. 
 LXXXVIII. 
 LXXXIX. 
 XC. 
collapse section 
 XCI. 
 XCII. 
 XCIII. 
collapse sectionII. 
collapse section 
 XCIV. 
 XCV. 
collapse section 
 XCVI. 
collapse section 
 XCVII. 
 XCVIII. 
 XCIX. 
 C. 
 CI. 
collapse section 
 CII. 
 CIII. 
 CIV. 
 CV. 
collapse section 
 CVI. 
collapse section 
 CVII. 
collapse section 
 CVIII. 
 CIX. 
 CX. 
collapse section 
 CXI. 
 CXII. 
 CXIII. 
collapse section 
 CXIV. 
 CXV. 
 CXVI. 
 CXVII. 
 CXVIII. 
 CXIX. 
 CXX. 
 CXXI. 
 CXXII. 
 CXXIII. 
 CXXIV. 
 CXXV. 
 CXXVI. 
 CXXVII. 
 CXXVIII. 
 CXXIX. 
 CXXX. 
 CXXXI. 
 CXXXII. 
 CXXXIII. 
 CXXXIV. 
 CXXXV. 
 CXXXVI. 

XXXII
THE INDIFFERENCE

Thanks, fair Vrania; to your Scorn
I now am free, as I was born,
Of all the Pain that I endur'd
By your late Coldness I am cur'd.
In losing me, proud Nymph, you lose
The humblest Slave your Beauty knows;
In losing you, I but thrown down
A cruel Tyrant from her Throne.
My ranging Love did never find
Such Charms of Person and of Mind;
Y'ave Beauty, Wit, and all Things know,
But where you shou'd your Love bestow.

30

I unawares my Freedom gave,
And to those Tyrants grew a Slave;
Would you have kept what you had won,
You should have more Compassion shewn.
Love is a Burthen, which two Hearts,
When equally they bear their Parts,
With Pleasure carry; but no one,
Alas, can bear it long alone.
I'm not of those who court their Pain,
And make an Idol of Disdain;
My Hope in Love does ne're expire,
But it extinguishes Desire.
Nor yet of those who ill receiv'd,
Wou'd have it otherwise believ'd;
And, where their Love cou'd not prevail,
Take the vain Liberty to rail.
Whoe're wou'd make his Victor less,
Must his own weak Defence confess,
And while her Pow'r he does defame,
He poorly doubles his own Shame.
Even that Malice does betray,
And speak Concern another way;
And all such Scorn in Men is but
The Smoke of Fires ill put out.
He's still in Torment, whom the Rage
To Detraction does engage;
In Love Indifference is sure
The only sign of perfect Cure.