Classic Poem

1

Perswade me not, I vow I'le love no more,
My heart has now ta'ne quarter;
My fetters I'll no more adore,
Nor madly run, as heretofore,
To break my freedoms Charter:
He, that once fails, may try again;
But who so often fool'd has been,
And still attempts, commits a triple sin:
He's his own humours Martyr
I'll use my liberty to run
Abroad, and still be choosing:
Who would confine himself to one
That has power of refusing?

2

The unconfined Bee, we see, has power,
To kiss and feel each flower;
Nor is his pleasure limited
To th'ruines of one maidenhead,
Nor ty'd to ones embraces:
But having's will of one, he'l fly
T'another, and there load his thigh.
Why should he have more priviledg than I?
Since both our amorous cases
Differ in this alone; his thighs,
When he abroad doth rome,
Loaden with spoyls return, but mine
Come weak and empty home.
3

The self same beauty that I've often sworn
Dwelt only in my dearest,
I see by other Ladies worn,
Whom the same Graces do adorn:
I like that face that's nearest
This I salute, and walk with that;
With this I sing, with t'other chat,
I've none to Catechize me where? or what?
Nor will be ty'd t'a Querist
Thus out of all, Pigmalion like,
My fancy limns a woman;
To her I freely sacrifice,
And rivald am by no man.