CHLOE, since you a handsome woman are, | |
| And consequently frail as you are fair, | |
| Be not to any of my rivals coy, | |
| But all the sweets of Liberty enjoy: | |
| Through ev’ry various scene of loving rove, | 5 |
| And to the best your youth and charms improve; | |
| I, all this freedom can with ease allow; | |
| I meant not to confine you to a vow; | |
| Provided that you act with secrecy, | |
| And keep your jilting tricks concealed from me. | 10 |
| She sins not to the world who can deny, | |
| And brazen out the rumour with a lie. | |
| ’Tis folly, nay, ’tis madness to reveal | |
| That which you can but any way conceal. | |
| You what the world would ne’er suspect proclaim, | 15 |
| And double by your impudence your shame. | |
| The lewdest, bawdiest drab in all the town | |
| Will shut the door, before she lays her down. | |
| Is’t not enough that fame proclaims your guilt, | |
| But you, yourself, must tell, you are a jilt? | 20 |
| For your own sake be with your pleasures wise, | |
| And sin at least under a chaste disguise. | |
| Nay, if to me, your tricks should be betrayed, | |
| Vow they’re all false, and that the world are mad; | |
| Blush, weep, sigh, rage, and all your passions vent, | 25 |
| As if you did your injured fame lament: | |
| And I shall fondly think your innocent. | |
| When to some secret grotto you resort, | |
| That love will suit, conceal the am’rous sport; | |
| There then unmasked, let loose your fierce desire, | 30 |
| Inflame with every lecherous trick your fire, | |
| Thy soul in its own native dress expose, | |
| And what, without disguise, you are disclose; | |
| Baulk nothing that can add to your delight, | |
| But vigorously pursue love’s pleasing fight. | 35 |
| Without a blush your folding arms, fast lock, | |
| That links you closer, and improves the shock. | |
| Your tongue to his in humid kisses dart, | |
| And let each single member have a part. | |
| As still you’re acting the soft scenes of love, | 40 |
| Your body in a thousand postures move; | |
| Art does the dry insipid act advance, | |
| And different motion does the bliss enhance. | |
| All dying, amorous, soft expressions use, | |
| Your melting looks new vigor will infuse, | 45 |
| But when you meet me, do not disabuse; | |
| Hide with thy waving robe the rising blush, | |
| By strong denial all suspicion crush, | |
| Till scandal’s self confirm the general hush. | |
| To me, to all the world thy truth declare, | 50 |
| That if deceived, unknowing I may err. | |
| My dear credulity O ne’er destroy, | |
| That paradise of fools let me enjoy. | |
| But why! ah why! so often must I see | |
| The billet sent, and brought again to thee? | 55 |
| Why deep indented, when I come, is seen | |
| The couch without, the conscious bed within; | |
| And ev’ry seat a witness of thy sin? | |
| Why discomposed the ringlets of thy hair, | |
| Move than with sleep? Why all thy bosom bare, | 60 |
| And all the marks of love imprinted there? | |
| Lost reputation though you may despise, | |
| Set not at least your guilt before my eyes. | |
| Consider me, if not your ruined fame; | |
| To me ’tis death, to you what is not shame. | 65 |
| When you confess I feel the fatal pains, | |
| And the chill’d blood creeps slowly through my veins. | |
| But ah! in vain thy falsehood I would hate; | |
| No; I must love thee, faithless and ingrate! | |
| Even while I fly from thy destructive charms, | 70 |
| I wish myself expiring in thy arms, | |
| O there conceal what I shall not inquire! | |
| Did not thy conduct blow it to a fire, | |
| Each spark of jealousy wou’d soon expire. | |
| Nay, wert thou taken in the guilty act, | 75 |
| And even these eyes were witness to the fact, | |
| What well I saw, as well would’st thou deny, | |
| And swear my sense imposed on me a lie, | |
| My willing eyes their evidence should quit, | |
| And all my soul in sorrow should submit. | 80 |
| Prepared to yield, how easy is thy task! | |
| To say, ’tis false, is all that I can ask, | |
| And since two words thy conquest may secure, | |
| And since thy judge, if not thy cause, is sure, | |
| At least be constant in a fixed denial; | 85 |
| Thy truth, my girl, shall never come on trial. | |
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