Pity, if you'd be pity'd

Why, Caelia, with that coy Behaviour
Do you meet Amintor's Flame?
Why deny him ev'ry Favour,
That so much adores your Name?
Adores it, too, with such a Passion,
Fervent, lasting and Divine,
That wou'd from all Hearts draw Compassion,
All, but that hard Heart of thine.

Gods! Why thus d'ye wast your Graces?
Why thus Bountiful in vain?
Why give Devils Angels Faces,
First to please, and then disdain?
Where ever was a Beauteous Creature
That bore lightning in her Eye,
But to her Lover shew'd ill Nature,
And cou'd smile to see him dy?

'Tis true, at last, Heav'ns Indignation,
Causeless hatred to Reprove,
Makes her doat with equal Passion
On some Youth, averse to Love;
One that, regardless, sees her languish,
Like a withering Lily pine —
O pity then Amintor's anguish,
Or that Fate may soon be thine!