Whilst her willinger Eyes gave her Language the lye.
Since, Phillis, my Passion you vow to despise,
Withdraw the false Hopes from your flattering Eyes:
For whilst they inspire
A resistless vain Fire,
We shall grow to abhor, what we now do admire.
Ex. Musick.
Alb. What’s this, and at Clarina’s Lodgings too?
Sure ’tis Antonio, impatient of delay,
Gives her a Serenade for me.