2730Ere language or employment give them birth,
Flashing affections, aged like thunder-fire?
His eyes shot Cupids at my yielding heart,
But his firm breast repelled my feeble dart.
Perchance he judged my forwardness to love,
By too much court'sy, and my frequent glances.
So thought in jest my willingness to prove,
Not with that sober passion which entrances;
But with lip-love, which to the heart ne'er sinks,
And paper-vows which take their birth from inks.