html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }Hence away, you Syrens, leave me,
And unclaspe your wanton armes;
Sugred words shall ne'er deceive me,
(Though 'you' prove a thousand charmes).
Fie, fie, forbeare;
No common snare
Could ever my affection chaine:
Your painted baits
And poore deceits,
Are all bestowed on me in vaine.
I'm no slave to such, as you be;
Neither shall a snowy brest,
Wanton eye, or lip of ruby
Ever robb me of my rest;
Goe, goe, display
Your beautie's ray
To some ore-soone enamour'd swaine:
Those common wiles
Of sighs and smiles
Are all bestowed on me in vaine.
I have elsewhere vowed a dutie;
Turn away 'your' tempting eyes:
Shew not me a naked beautie;
Those impostures I despise:
My spirit lothes
Where gawdy clothes
And fained othes may love obtaine:
I love her so,
Whose looke swears No;
That all your labours will be vaine.
Can he prize the tainted posies,
Which on every brest are worne;
That may plucke the spotlesse roses
From their never-touched thorne?
I can goe rest
On her sweet brest,
That is the pride of Cynthia's traine:
Then hold your tongues;
Your mermaid songs
Are all bestowed on me in vaine.
Hee's a foole, that basely dallies,
Where each peasant mates with him;
Shall I haunt the thronged vallies,
Whilst ther's noble hils to climbe?
No, no, though clowns
Are skar'd with frownes,
I know the best can but disdaine;
And those I'le prove;
So shall your love
Be all bestowed on me in vaine.
I doe scorne to vow a dutie,
Where each lustfull lad may woe:
Give me her, whose sun-like beautie
Buzzards dare not soare unto:
Shee, shee it is
Affoords that blisse
For which I would refuse no paine:
But such as you,
Fond fooles, adieu;
You seeke to captive me in vaine.
Leave me then, you Syrens, leave me;
Seeke no more to worke my harmes:
Craftie wiles cannot deceive me,
Who am proofe against your charmes:
You labour may
To lead astray
The heart, that constant shall remaine:
And I the while
Will sit and smile
To see you spend your time in vaine.