Though a smile may delight,
Yet a frown will affright
Or drive me to dreadful despair.
While my blood is thus warm,
I ne'er shall reform,
To mix in the Platonists' school;
Of this I am sure,
Was my Passion so pure,
Thy Mistress would think me a fool.
And if I should shun,
Every woman for one,
Whose image must fill my whole breast;
Whom I must prefer,
And sigh but for her,
What an insult 'twould be to the rest!
Now Strephon, good-bye;
I cannot deny,
- Yet a frown won't affright.—[4to. P on V. Occasions.]
- My mistress must think me.—[4to. P. on V. Occasions.]
- Though the kisses are sweet,
Which voluptuously meet,
Of kissing I ne'er was so fond,
As to make me forget.
Though our lips oft have met,
That still there was something beyond.—[4to]