Of her it was I learn’d to speak, and sigh,
And look, as oft you say, I do on you.
Fred. Why then, it seems she made returns?
Clo. Ah! Sir, ’twas I that first was blest,
I first the happy Object was belov’d;
For, ’twas a Person, Sir, so much above me,—
It had been Sin to’ve rais’d my Eyes to her;
Or by a glance, or sigh, betray my Pain.
But Oh! when with a thousand [soft] Expressions,
She did encourage me to speak of Love!