Sir Edward Sherburne (1618–1702)

LEAVE, Chloris, leave; prithee no more

With want of love or lightness charge me:

’Cause thy looks captived me before,

May not another’s now enlarge me?

He whose misguided zeal hath long

Paid homage to some star’s pale light,

Better informed, may without wrong

Leave that t’ adore the queen of night.

Then if my heart, which long served thee,

Will to Carintha now incline;

Why termed inconstant should it be

For bowing ’fore a richer shrine?

Censure those lovers so, whose will

Inferior objects can entice;

Who changes for the better still,

Makes that a virtue, you call vice.