William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Restoration Verse. 1910.
The SurpriseSir Edward Sherburne (16181702)
T
Though he be a child and blind;
Then let none the danger prove,
Who would to himself be kind:
Smile he does when thou dost play,
But his smiles to death betray.
Love I did not, yet love feigned;
Had not mistress, yet I courted;
Sigh I did, yet was not pained;
Till at last this love in jest,
Proved in earnest my unrest.
In a feignèd fire I burned;
But true flames my poor heart pierced,
When her eyes on mine she turned:
So a real wound I took,
For my counterfeited look.
Struck me with a mortal dart;
Then I learnt that ’gainst his bow,
Vain are the weak helps of art;
And thus captiv’d, found that true
Doth dissembled love pursue.
Now the tyrant faster bound me;
With more scorching brands inflamed,
’Cause in love so cold he found me:
And my sighs more scalding made,
’Cause with winds before they played.
Love’s as ill deceived as Fate;
Fly the Boy, he’ll cog and woo;
Mock him, and he wounds thee straight.
Ah! who dally, boast in vain;
False love wants not real pain.