Page:Pope's knavery, or, Old Nick's invention (2).pdf/5

5 Unto my breaſt the fair I preſt,

nor did my dear ſeem coy,

But kindly ſaid, Sir, I'm afraid,

you've caus'd yourſelf much toil.

My dear, ſays he, if you will be true,

my toil is at an end;

It's you alone can eaſe my moan,

it's you can me befriend.

My dear be kind and tell your mind,

declare now in your turn;

For if you can't love me, I can't live,

then death attends the ſcorn.

She ſeem'd oppreſs'd with great diſtreſs,

and knew not what to ſay;

But kindly ſaid, If you're ſincere,

pray come another day.

Your perſon I do not deſpiſe,

but my friends do all declare,

To marry me immediately

to the 'ſquire's only heir.

If the 'ſquire's ſon diſtracted run,

he ne'er ſhall get my dear;

Nor no ſuch clown ſhall me controul,

for a' his ſtore of gear.

For if my true love will conſtant prove,

I have her heart in ſtore;

So the 'ſquire's ſon may ſtay at home,

and walk this road no more.