Tho' cruel you seem to my pain

Tho' cruel you seem to my pain, And hate me because I am true; Yet, PHYLLIS, you love a false swain, Who has other nymphs in his view.

Enjoyment's a trifle to him, To me what a heaven 'twould be! To him but a woman you seem, But, ah! you're an angel to me.

Those lips which he touches in haste To them I for ever could grow; Still clinging around that dear waist Which he spans as beside him you go.

That arm, like a lily so white, Which over his shoulders you lay, My bosom could warm it all night, My lips they could press it all day.

Were I like a monarch to reign, Were graces my subjects to be, I'd leave them, and fly to the plain, To dwell in a cottage with thee.

But if I must feel your disdain, If tears cannot cruelty drown, Oh! let me not live in this pain, But give me my death in a frown.