Whose hand upon thy tempting Bayt layes hold?
Alas! fond Lover, thou deceived art.
She that with Wealth, and Titles, can be wonne,
Or woo'd with Vanities, will wavring bee;
And, when her Love, thou most dependest on,
A Fiddle-sticke shall winne her heart from thee.
To Youth and Musicke, Venus leaneth most;
And (though her hand she on the Scepter lay)
Let Greatnesse, of her Favours never boast:
For, Heart and Eye, are bent another way.