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To one that asked me why I lov'd J.G.
- WHY do I Love? go, ask the Glorious Sun
- Why every day it round the world doth Run:
- Ask Thames and Tyber, why they ebb and flow:
- Ask Damask Roses why in June they blow:
- Ask Ice and Hail, the reason, why they're Cold:
- Decaying Beauties, why they will grow Old:
- They'l tell thee, Fate, that every thing doth move,
- Inforces them to this, and me to Love.
- There is no Reason for our Love or Hate,
- 'Tis irresistible, as Death or Fate;
- 'Tis not his Face; I've sense enough to see,
- That is not good, though doated on by me:
- Nor is't his Tongue, that has this Conquest won;
- For that at least is equall'd by my own:
- His carriage can to none obliging be,
- 'Tis Rude, Affected, full of Vanity:
- Strangely Ill natur'd, Peevish and Unkind,
- Unconstant, False, to Jealousie inclin'd;
- His Temper cou'd not have so great a Pow'r,
- 'Tis mutable, and changes every hour:
- Those vigorous Years that Women so Adore
- Are past in him: he's twice my age and more;
- And yet I love this false, this worthless Man,
- With all the Passion that a Woman can;
- Doat on his Imperfections, though I spy
- Nothing to Love; I Love, and know not why.
- Sure 'tis Decreed in the dark Book of Fate,
- That I shou'd Love, and he shou'd be ingrate.
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