Song.
Faith, ’tis not worth thy pains and care
To seek t’ensnare
A heart so poor as mine:[24:1]
Some fools there be
Hate liberty,5
Who[m] with more ease thou may’st confine.
Alas! when with much charge thou hast
Brought it at last
Beneath thy power to bow,
It will adore10
Some twenty more,
And that, perhaps, you’d[24:2] not allow.
No, Chloris, I no more will prove
The curse of love,
And now can boast a heart15
Hath learn’d of thee
Inconstancy,
And cozen’d women of their art.
Expectation.
Chide, chide no more away
The fleeting daughters of the day,
Nor with impatient thoughts outrun
The lazy sun,
Nor[25:1] think the hours do move too slow;5
Delay is kind,
And we too soon shall find
That which we seek, yet fear to know.
The mystic dark decrees
Unfold not of the Destinies,10
Nor boldly seek to antedate
The laws of Fate;
Thy anxious search awhile forbear,
Suppress thy haste,
And know that Time at last15
Will crown thy hope, or fix thy fear.