< Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu
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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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