I cannot, dare not, must not hear;
Dearest Thyrsis do not move me,
Do not, do not, if you Love me:
O let me still, the Shepherd said,
But while she fond resistance made,
The hasty Joy in struggling fled.
Vex'd at the Pleasure she had miss'd,
She frown'd and blush'd, and sigh'd and kiss'd,
And seem'd to moan, in sullen Cooing,
The sad miscarriage of their Wooeing: