Peter Anthony Motteux (1660–1718)

I LOVE! but she alone shall know,

Who is herself my treasure;

Vain lovers, when their joys they show,

Call partners to their pleasure.

Let empty beaux the favour miss,

While they would have it known;

That soul’s too narrow for the bliss,

Who can’t enjoy alone.

Then, never let my love be told

By way of modern toasting;

The sweetest joy like fairy gold,

Is lost by selfish boasting.

Too rich to shew, what I possess,

My treasure I’ll conceal;

I may my pains of love confess,

But ne’er my joys reveal.