Phillis, for shame! let us improve

Phillis, for shame! let us improve,
A thousand different ways.
These few short moments snatch'd by love
From many tedious days.

If you want courage to despise
The censure of the grave,
Tho' Love's a tyrant in your eyes,
Your heart is but a slave.

My love is full of noble pride;
Nor can it e'er submit
To let that fop, Discretion, ride
In triumph over it.

False friends I have, as well as you,
Who daily counsel me
Fame and Ambition to pursue,
And leave off loving thee.

But when the least regard I show
To fools who thus advise.
May I be dull enough to grow
Most miserably wise!