APHRA BERN
��4/2. The Libertine
A THOUSAND martyrs I have made,
- All sacrificed to my desire,
A thousand beauties have betray'd That languish in resistless fire : The untamed heart to hand I brought, And fix'd the wild and wand'ring thought.
I never vow'd nor sigh'd in vain.
But both, tho' false, were well received ;
The fair are pleased to give us pain, And what they wish is soon believed :
And tho' I talk'd of wounds and smart,
Love's pleasures only touch'd my heart.
Alone the glory and the spoil I always laughing bore away ;
The triumphs without pain or toil, Without the hell the heaven of joy ;
And while I thus at random rove
Despise the fools that whine for love.
��JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF ROCHESTER
473. Return
A BSENT from thee, I languish still;
- Then ask me not, When I return ?
The straying fool 'twill plainly kill
To wish all day, all night to mourn.
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