The Forsaken Mistress
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN PHILLIS AND STREPHON
Phillis
Tell me, gentle Strephon, why
You from my embraces fly?
Does my love thy love destroy?
Tell me, I will yet be coy.
Stay, o stay, and I will feign
(Though I break my heart) disdain;
But lest I too unkind appear,
For every frown I'll shed a tear.
And if in vain I court thy love,
Let mine at least thy pity move;
Ah! while I scorn, vouchsafe to woo —
Methinks you may dissemble too.
Strephon
Ah Phillis, that you would contrive
A way to keep my love alive;
But all your other charms must fail
When kindness ceases to prevail.
Alas! no less than you I grieve
My dying flame has no reprieve;
For I can never hope to find,
Should all the nymphs I court be kind,
One beauty able to renew
Those pleasures I enjoyed in you,
When love and youth did both conspire
To fill our breasts and veins with fire.
'Tis true, some other nymph may gain
That heart which merits your disdain;
But second love has still allay,
The joys grow aged and decay.
Then blame me not for losing more
Than love and beauty can restore,
And let this truth thy comfort prove,
I would, but can no longer love.
Phillis
Tell me, gentle Strephon, why
You from my embraces fly?
Does my love thy love destroy?
Tell me, I will yet be coy.
Stay, o stay, and I will feign
(Though I break my heart) disdain;
But lest I too unkind appear,
For every frown I'll shed a tear.
And if in vain I court thy love,
Let mine at least thy pity move;
Ah! while I scorn, vouchsafe to woo —
Methinks you may dissemble too.
Strephon
Ah Phillis, that you would contrive
A way to keep my love alive;
But all your other charms must fail
When kindness ceases to prevail.
Alas! no less than you I grieve
My dying flame has no reprieve;
For I can never hope to find,
Should all the nymphs I court be kind,
One beauty able to renew
Those pleasures I enjoyed in you,
When love and youth did both conspire
To fill our breasts and veins with fire.
'Tis true, some other nymph may gain
That heart which merits your disdain;
But second love has still allay,
The joys grow aged and decay.
Then blame me not for losing more
Than love and beauty can restore,
And let this truth thy comfort prove,
I would, but can no longer love.
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