| Fuess and Stearns, comps. The Little Book of Society Verse. 1922. | | | | The Peremptory Lover | | Unknown |
| | | ’T IS not your beauty nor your wit | |
| That can my heart obtain, | |
| For they could never conquer yet | |
| Either my breast or brain; | |
| For if you’ll not prove kind to me, | 5 |
| And true as heretofore, | |
| Henceforth I’ll scorn your slave to be, | |
| And doat on you no more. | |
| |
| Think not my fancy to o’ercome | |
| By proving thus unkind; | 10 |
| No smothered sigh, nor smiling frown, | |
| Can satisfy my mind. | |
| Pray let Platonics play such pranks, | |
| Such follies I deride; | |
| For love at least I will have thanks,— | 15 |
| And something else beside! | |
| |
| Then open-hearted be with me, | |
| As I shall be, I vow, | |
| And let our actions be as free | |
| As virtue will allow. | 20 |
| If you’ll prove loving, I’ll prove kind,— | |
| If constant, I’ll be true; | |
| If Fortune chance to change your mind, | |
| I’ll turn as soon as you. | |
| |
| Since our affections well ye know, | 25 |
| In equal terms do stand, | |
| ’T is in your power to love or no, | |
| Mine’s likewise in my hand. | |
| Dispense with your austerity, | |
| Inconstancy abhor, | 30 |
| Or, by great Cupid’s deity, | |
| I’ll never love thee more. | | | | |
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