Afford to me, without I love him too?
Why shou’d his Am’rous Passion more incline
To move my Heart, than yours was mov’d by mine?
And I perceive by what I now endure,
That the first Wounds of Love admits no Cure;
All sorts of Remedies then prove in vain,
W’ are ne’er recover’d to our selves again;
So fixt, and so immutable is Fate,
We ’re doomed to Love, though w’ are repaid with Hate.
I ’m sure I cou’d not so hard-hearted be,