Classic Poem

VI

I wish thy malice might so thrive
To my advantage as to shake
Her flinty breast, that I might live,
And on that part a batt'ry make.

VII

But since a sack without some fire
Is seldome to perfection brought,
I may like thee baffled retire,
Thou hast her burning fit forgott.

VIII

Since thy assaults then never can
Atcheive the power to destroy
This wonder, and delight of man,
Hence to some grosser body fly.

IX

Yet, as returning stomacks doe
Still covet some one dish they see:
So, when thou from my Fayre do'st goe,
Kind Ague make her long for mee.