A Song Against Whining Love

I.

Why still, such Swearing, Fawning, Lying,
Talking of Killing, and no Dying?
Looking so sad, her Smiles to gain,
Thinking her Pity more to move,
More to compel her to Disdain,
And gain her Scorn instead of Love:

II.

With sensless Speeches, scurvy Faces,
To get a Proud, Young Maid's good Graces;
Like Beggars you, by th' Canting Tone,
With which you'd gain her Charity,
Provoke her more, to show you none,
And make your Pray'r her Grant deny:

III.

Her Pity for you, less Provoking,
And more in vain, by your Ill-looking;
But, if successful you wou'd prove,
In Begging, put your best Looks on;
For but Good Objects, Love can move,
Whilst all the Bad, all always shun:

IV.

Your best Looks sure, wou'd be more Moving,
To make her the more Free, more Loving;
Look on her then more chearfully,
More of her Smiles from thee to gain;
Maids, to sad Looks, Love's Joys deny,
Which Blith, and Good, from them obtain:

V.

Such Sighing, Weeping, but discover
Effeminacy i'th' Male Lover,
Which does the Proud, tho' Soft Sex, move,
But less to Pity, than Disdain,
To more Aversion turns that Love,
By which, Soft Fools, Hard Hearts wou'd gain.
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