The Token

Well, cruel Mistress, though you'r too unkind,
Since thus my banishment's by you design'd,
I go, but with you leave my heart behind.

A truer heart, I'me sure you never wore,
'Tis the best Treasure of the blind God's store,
And, truly, you can justly ask no more.

Then blame me not, if curious to know,
I ask, on what fair Limb you will bestow
The Token, that my zeal presents you now?

I shall expect so great an interest
For such a Gift, as t' have that Gemm possest,
Not of your Cabinet, but of your Breast.

There fixt, 'twill glory in its blest remove,
And flaming by degrees a Vigil prove,
Icy Disdain to thaw, nay, kindle love.