Classic Poem

I

Lord ! how you take upon you still!
 How you crow and domineer!
How! still expect to have your will,
 And carry the Dominion clear,
As you were still the same that once you were!

II

Fie, Chloris , 'tis a gross mistake,
 Correct your errour, and be wise,
I kindly still your kindness take,
 But yet have learn'd, though love I prize,
 Your froward humours to despise,
And now disdain to call them Cruelties.

III

I was a Fool whilst you were fair,
 And I had Youth t' excuse it,
And all the rest are so that Lovers are;
 I then my self your Vassal swear,
And could be still so; (which is rare;)
  Nay, I could force my will
  To love, and at a good rate still,
 But on condition that you not abuse it;
  I am now Master of the Gate,
  And therefore, Chloris , 'tis too late
Or to insult, or to capitulate.

IV

'Tis Beauty that to Womankind
 Gives all the Rule and Sway,
Which once declining, or declin'd,
 Men afterwards unwillingly obey;
Your Beauty 'twas at first did awe me,
And into Bondage, woefull Bondage draw me;
 It was your Cheek, your Eye, your Lip
Which rais'd you first to the Dictator-ship: