Since my heart is gon before
To what purpose should I stay?
Love Commands another Way.
Daph: Perjurd swaine I knew the time
When dissembling was your Crime:
In pitty now Imploy that art
Which first betrai'd to ease my heart.
Stre: Women can with pleasure faine;
Men disemble still with paine.
What Advantage will it prove
If I Lye who cannot Love?
Daph: Tell me then the reason why,
Love from hearts in Love does fly;
Why the Bird will build a Nest
Where he ne're intends to rest.
Stre: Love Like other Little boyes
Cryes for hearts as they for toyes
Which when gained in Childish play
Wantonly are throwne away.
Daph: Still on Wing or on his knee's
Love does nothing by degrees;
Basely flying when most priz'd,
Meanly fawning when despis'd,
Flatt'ring or Insulting Ever,
Generous and gratefull never;
All his Joyes are Fleeting dreames,
All his Woes severe Extreames.
Stre: Nymph unjustly you enveigh:
Love Like us must fate obey.
Since tis Natures Law to Change,
Constancy alone is strange.
See the Heav'ns in Lightnings breake,
Next in stormes of Thunder speake
Till a kinde Raine from above
Makes a Calme, soe tis in Love.
Flames begin our first addresse:
Like meeting Thunder wee embrace.
Then you know the showers that fall
Quench the fire and quiet all.
Daph: How should I these showers forget?
T'was soe pleasant to be Wett.
They kil'd Love I know it well:
I dy'd all the while they fell.
Say at Leastt what Nimph it is
Robs my brest of soe much bliss.
If she is faire I shall be easd:
Through my Ruine, you'l be pleas'd.
Stre: Daphne never was soe faire,
Strephon scarcely soe Sincere,
Gentle, Innocent and free,
Ever pleasd with only mee.
Many Charmes my heart enthrall
But there's one above 'em all:
With avertion she does fly
Tedious Trading constancy.
Daph: Cruell sheppard I submit:
Doe what Love and you thinke fitt.
Change is Fate and not designe—
Say you would have still bin mine.
Stre: Nymph I can not: tis too true
Change has greater Charmes than you.
Be by my Example Wise:
Faith to pleasure sacrifice.
Daph: Silly swaine I'le have you know
T'was my practice Long agoe:
Whilst you Vainely thought me true
I was falce in scorn of you.
By my teares my hearts disguise
I thy Love and thee despise.
Woman kinde more Joy discovers
Making Fooles then keeping Lovers.
Image from here