O, do not blame me, ! if I press
So much, and with Impatience, for Redress.
My pond'rous Griefs no Ease my Soul allow,
For they are next t'intolerable now;
How shall I then support 'em, when they grow
To an Excess, to a distracting Woe?
Since you're endow'd with a Celestial Mind,
Relieve like Heaven, and like the Gods be kind.
Did you perceive the Torments, I endure,
Which you first caus'd, and you alone can cure:
They would your Virgin Soul to Pity move;
And pity may at last be chang'd to Love.
Some Swains, I own, impose upon the Fair,
And lead th' incautious Maid into a Snare.
But let them suffer for their Perjury,
And do not punish others Crimes in me,
If there's so many of our Sex untrue;
Yours should more kindly use the faithful few
Tho' Innocence too oft incurs the Fate
Of Guilt, and clears it self sometimes too late.