Your pain seem'd so great,
I pitied your fate,
As your fair was so dev'lish reserv'd.
You say, "When I rove,"
"I know nothing of love;"
'Tis true, I am given to range;
If I rightly remember,
I've lov'd a good number;
Yet there's pleasure, at least, in a change.
I will not advance,
By the rules of romance,
- But since the chaste kiss.—[4to]
- Such wonderful.—[4to]
- I've kissed a good number.—[4to] But——
- I ne'er will advance.—[4to]