I Seek no more to shady coverts,
Jockey's Eyn are all my Joy;
Beauty's there I Ken, that cannot,
Must not, shall not, steal away:
What wou'd Jockey now do to me,
Surely you're to me unkind;
Ise ne'er see you, nay you fly me,
Yet are ne'er from out my Mind.
Tell me why 'tis thus you use me,