Song (Pre'thee, why so angry, Sweet)

Pre'thee, why so angry, Sweet?
'Tis in vain,
To dissemble a Disdain,
That Frown i' th' infancy I'le meet,
And kiss it to a Smile again.

In that pretty Anger is
Such a grace,
As Loves fancy would embrace,
As to new Crimes may Youth entice,
So that Disguise becomes that Face.

When thy rosie Cheek thus checks
My offence,
I could sin with a pretence:
Through that sweet chiding Blush there breaks,
So fair, so bright an Innocence.

Thus your very frowns entrap
My desire,
And inflame me to admire
That Eyes, drest in an angry shape,
Should kindle, as with amorous fire.