Or thy deceitful charms;
Nor pris'ner be to thy embraces,
Or fetter'd in thy arms;
No, Celia, no, not all thy art
Can wound or captivate my heart.
I will not gaze upon thy eyes,
Or wanton with thy hair,
Lest those should burn me by surprise,
10Or these my soul ensnare;
Nor with those smiling dangers play,