Poems upon several Occasions | ||
114
SONG.
[How! Court Dorinda! Who the Devil]
I
How! Court Dorinda! Who the DevilWould ever prove so tame a Sot?
If You are Kind, then She's Uncivil,
When You would Love, then She will not.
II
To contradict is all Her Pleasure,Her utmost Virtue to Deny,
Her Modesty (that boasted Treasure)
Is—to give Her Self the Lye.
115
III
Then ne're, Mistaken Youth, stand DoatingOn Woman for Her Beauty's Sake,
Nor for a silly Prize lie Plotting,
Which She'll not give, but You may take.
IV
Summon out all the Pow'rs within Her,Then boldly push—She can't withstand;
You'll find the surest Way to Win Her,
Is to Engage with Sword in Hand.
Poems upon several Occasions | ||