A Dialogue in Imitation of That between Horace and Lydia

Lover. WHILE thou didst love me, and that neck of thine,
More sweet, white, soft than roses, silver, down,
Did wear a necklace of no arms but mine,
I envied not the King of Spain his crown.

Lady. While of thy heart I was sole sovereign,
And thou didst sing none but Melina's name,
Whom for brown Chloe thou dost now disdain,
I envied not the Queen of England's fame.

Lover. Though Chloe be less fair, she is more kind;
Her graceful dancing doth so please mine eye.
And through mine ears her voice so charms my mind,
That so dear she may live, I'll willing die.

Lady. Though Crispus cannot sing my praise in verse,
I love him so for skill in tilting shown,
And graceful managing of coursers fierce.
That his dear life to save I'll lose mine own.

Lover. What if I sue to thee again for grace.
And sing thy praises sweeter than before.
If out of my heart I blot Chloe's face.
Wilt thou love me again, love him no more?

Lady. Though he be fairer than the morning star;
Though lighter than the floating cork thou be;
And than the Irish sea more angry far;
With thee I wish to live, and die with thee.