SONG.

I Ask not my Celia would love me again,
In its own pleasure my love is pay'd;
I'le find such excuses for all her disdain,
That shortly to frown I'le make her afraid.

Her neglect of me, of her self I'le think care;
Her cruelty, I her strict Vertue will name;
When least kind she seems, I'le believ her most near
And call her refusal, but a Virgins Fame.

Thus all that was wont heretofore to cure love,
In me shall increase, and stir up the fire;
I'le make her at last some kind remedy prove,
Since all others but increase my desire.

Whil'st no man enjoyes that which I court in vain,
And Celia to none is kinder then me;
To … Honour I'le yield, and never complain,
But dy… at her feet, if so it decree.