| |
| HENCE 1 away, you Sirens, leave me, | |
| And unclasp your wanton arms; | |
| Sug’red words shall ne’er deceive me | |
| Though you prove a thousand charms. | |
| Fie, fie, forbear; | 5 |
| No common snare | |
| Could ever my affection chain; | |
| Your painted baits | |
| And poor deceits | |
| Are all bestowed on me in vain. | 10 |
| |
| I’m no slave to such as you be; | |
| Neither shall a snowy breast, | |
| Wanton eye, or lip of ruby | |
| Ever rob me of my rest; | |
| Go, go, display | 15 |
| Your beauty’s ray | |
| To some o’ersoon enamoured swain: | |
| Those common wiles | |
| Of sighs and smiles | |
| Are all bestowed on me in vain. | 20 |
| |
| I have elsewhere vowed a duty; | |
| Turn away your tempting eyes, | |
| Show not me a naked beauty, | |
| Those impostures I despise; | |
| My spirit loathes | 25 |
| Where gaudy clothes | |
| And feignèd oaths may love obtain: | |
| I love her so | |
| Whose look swears no, | |
| That all your labours will be vain. | 30 |
| |
| Can he prize the tainted posies | |
| Which on every breast are worn, | |
| That may pluck the spotless roses | |
| From their never-touchèd thorn? | |
| I can go rest | 35 |
| On her sweet breast | |
| That is the pride of Cynthia’s train; | |
| Then stay your tongues, | |
| Your mermaid songs | |
| Are all bestowed on me in vain. | 40 |
| |
| He’s a fool that basely dallies | |
| Where each peasant mates with him; | |
| Shall I haunt the throngèd vallies, | |
| Whilst there’s noble hills to climb? 2 | |
| No, no, though clowns | 45 |
| Are scared with frowns, | |
| I know the best can but disdain: | |
| And those I’ll prove, | |
| So shall your love | |
| Be all bestowed on me in vain. | 50 |
| |
| Yet I would not deign embraces | |
| With the greatest-fairest she | |
| If another shared those graces | |
| Which had been bestowed on me. | |
| I gave that one | 55 |
| My love, where none | |
| Shall come to rob me of my gain. | |
| Your fickle hearts | |
| Makes tears, and arts | |
| And all, bestowed on me in vain. | 60 |
| |
| I do scorn to vow a duty | |
| Where each lustful lad may woo; | |
| Give me her, whose sun-like beauty | |
| Buzzards dare not soar unto: | |
| She, she it is | 65 |
| Affords that bliss, | |
| For which I would refuse no pain; | |
| But such as you, | |
| Fond fools, adieu, | |
| You seek to captive me in vain. | 70 |
| |
| Proud she seemed in the beginning | |
| And disdained my looking on, | |
| But that coy one in the winning, | |
| Proves a true one, being won. | |
| Whate’er betide | 75 |
| She’ll ne’er divide | |
| The favour she to me shall deign; | |
| But your fond love | |
| Will fickle prove, | |
| And all that trust in you are vain. | 80 |
| |
| Therefore know, when I enjoy one, | |
| And for love employ my breath, | |
| She I court shall be a coy one | |
| Though I win her with my death. | |
| A favour there | 85 |
| Few aim at dare; | |
| And if, perhaps, some lover plain; | |
| She is not won | |
| Nor I undone | |
| By placing of my love in vain. | 90 |
| |
| Leave me, then, you Sirens, leave me, | |
| Seek no more to work my harms, | |
| Crafty wiles cannot deceive me, | |
| Who am proof against your charms: | |
| You labour may | 95 |
| To lead astray | |
| The heart that constant shall remain; | |
| And I the while | |
| Will sit and smile | |
| To see you spend your time in vain. | 100 |
