Classic Poem

I.

Phillis! thy Pride, so general,
My Heart, in spight of me, has won,
Who but most kind art to us all,
In showing Kindness yet to none;

II.

You make me love your Cruelty,
Which, tho' 'twill not give me your Love;
Yet, takes away my Jealousie,
And makes your Scorn, my Comfort prove;

III.

Though I my Mistress can't enjoy,
No Rival need I yet to fear,
I'd rather have thee to me coy,
Than with Mankind, thy Kindness share;

IV.

I am, in Love, a Miser so,
Am pleas'd, to think you mine alone;
Nay, tho' to have no Use of you,
Only, that others may have none;

V.

Let then thy Scorn be general,
Rather than let thy Love be so;
I'd rather have no Love at all,
Than Jealousie I'd undergo;

VI.

Tho' Heresie in Love, it is,
As likewise in Religion too;
I'd rather quit the Hopes of Bliss,
Than Pain, in Hopes of Joy, to know;

VII.

Annihilation in your Heart,
I rather wou'd have undergone,
Than in Love's Flames, Despair, and Smart,
For Bliss, no sooner known than done.