{But then, oh, cruel Fate! my Miseries were not less.——
Had I with Artifice e’er drawn you on,
And what I most desir’d have seem’d to shun;
Had I the cunning Arts of Women us’d,
And with feign’d Scorn your gen’rous Love abus’d;
Had I my growing Flame with Care supprest
When first I felt it rising in my Breast;
Nay, when I found I lov’d, had I conceal’d
My Passion, nor to you my Soul reveal’d,
That for your Hate had been some small Pretence,