Song: “Why, Damon, why, why, why so pressing?”

WHY, Damon, why, why, why so pressing?

The heart you beg ’s not worth possessing:

Each look, each word, each smile ’s affected,

And inward charms are quite neglected;

Then scorn her, scorn her, foolish swain,

And sigh no more, no more, in vain;

Beauty’s worthless, fading, flying;

Who would for trifles think of dying?

Who for a face, a shape, would languish,

And tell the brooks and groves his anguish,

Till she, till she thinks fit to prize him,

And all, and all beside despise him?