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The LOAN.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The LOAN.

I

Give me, my Fair, or lend at least
Those Naughty, Rolling Eyes of thine,
Whose sparkling Orbs, like Phœbus dress't
With pointed Rays, severely shine:

88

Your wanton Eyes that killing Arrows dart,
And make another Quiver of my Heart.

II

But, Lovely Nymph, if you require
On what Design the Loan I crave,
I thence would back discharge the Fire,
And Shafts that scorch, and wound your Slave;
That You may be as wretched in your Turn,
With equal Arrows bleed, with equal Fires may burn.