The reasonable Request

For pity, Caelia, ease my care;
The scorn your Eye does dart,
Swifter than Lightning pierces Air,
Runs to my trembling Heart,
The Pangs of Death are less severe
When Souls and Bodies part:
But Death I've oft invok't, and shall again;
For what fond wretch wou'd on the Rack remain,
And have no use of Life but still to live in pain?

I not presume to beg a Kiss,
Twou'd heighten my Desire;
And a kind look's a happiness
That wou'd but mount it higher;
Nor yet your Love, for that's a Bliss
Where I must ne're aspire:
No, this is all that I request, and sure
A smaller Boon was never beg'd before,
Do but believe I love you, and I ask no more.