WILLIAM CONGREVE

FALSE though she be to me and love, I’ll ne’er pursue revenge; For still the charmer I approve, Though I deplore her change. In hours of bliss we oft have met: They could not always last; And though the present I regret, I’m grateful for the past.

FAIR Amoret is gone astray— Pursue and seek her, ev’ry lover; I’ll tell the signs by which you may The wand’ring Shepherdess discover. Coquette and coy at once her air, Both studied, tho’ both seem neglected; Careless she is, with artful care, Affecting to seem unaffected. With skill her eyes dart ev’ry glance, Yet change so soon you’d ne’er suspect them, For she’d persuade they wound by chance, Tho’ certain aim and art direct them. She likes herself, yet others hates For that which in herself she prizes; And, while she laughs at them, forgets She is the thing that she despises.