Lady, if you ever paid Forfeit for a heart betrayed, If for broken pledge you were By one tooth, one nail less fair, I would trust. But when a vow Slips from off your faithless brow, Forth you flash with purer lustre, And a fonder troop you muster. You with vantage mock the shade Of a mother lowly laid, Silent stars and depths of sky, And high saints that cannot die. Laughs the Queen of love, I say, Laughs at this each silly fay, Laughs the rogue who's ever whetting Darts of fire on flint of fretting. Ay, the crop of youth is yours, Fresh enlistments throng your doors, Veterans swear you serve them ill, Threaten flight, and linger still. Dames and thrifty greybeards dread Lest you turn a stripling's head; Poor young brides are in dismay Lest you sigh their lords away. |