Say not, my Love, I do not to thee prove,
Because I give thee nothing for thy Love;
That thou most undervalued art by me,
Because, I ne'er a Bargain made for thee;
I ne'er ('tis true,) prophan'd thy Love with Hire,
Because, bought Slaves, and Beggars, none admire;
I, like a Deity, have treated thee,
Pray'rs, Tears, Vows, Faith, thou long hast had from me,
Honour, Devotion, Adoration too,
Which more my Love does, than my Money show;
Money, but Love's Disparagement wou'd prove,
I gave thee nothing, more to prove my Love;
Who, by my Gifts, shou'd undervalue thee,
To think thou, but for Pay, wou'dst only be
A willing, and a grateful Friend to me;
So, but for prizing thee more, (I confess,)
And to make more of thee, I give thee less;
If Love be, what most think, a Thing Divine,
'Twere Sacrilege to purchase it with Coin;
I Bribe you less, to do you Justice more,
Make you no Presents, on your Honour's Score,
Since 'tis Base Hire, not Free Love, makes the Whore;
And she's a Queen, who only does require
Our Duty, but a Quean, who loves for Hire;
So her, whom we pay least, we most admire;
My Love, and Honour, for you, then I prove,
But more, as less I proffer for your Love;
Which, but because I think a Heavenly Thing,
Shou'd not, by Sacrilegious Bartering,
Be gain'd; but by Faith, Pray'r, and Charity,
Not by Prophane Bribes, or Love-Simony,
Since Men still forfeit Blessings, they wou'd buy;
For Faith in Love, as in Religion too,
Less True does, as more Mercenary show,
Does Sacrilege of True Devotion grow;
And shou'd provoke those Jealous Deities,
Whom we wou'd gain, by Hire, call'd Sacrifice;
For Love, like Honour and Religion, so,
By Mercenary Vows, and Good Works too,
Is lessen'd, when we Traders for it grow;
Then, since I'd more still your Admirer be,
I'd not buy thy Heart, to give mine from thee,
To such, as of their Flesh wou'd be more free;
Like paying for the Box, to pay for Love,
Less Gamesome makes, Love's vent'ring Pusher prove;
You spoil your Eager Lover's Fancy so,
Dunning him, for your Chink still, in his Throw,
To make him leave off Playing more with you;
For what he'd freely give, when he had done,
If he might Push you, without Dunning on,
Since Dunning for the Slit, in Love, as Play,
Will, the Free Pusher's Fancy, take away,
Then for your Pleasure, let none for it Pay;
Nay, for your Honour, as your Pleasure too,
Be free to Friends, to make 'ein so to you;
Since that your Hand's Insatiability,
Is much more, than your Lust's your Infamy;
Your great Demands, but their own selves deny;
Both Ways requiring more than Men can do,
But the less able sure to make 'em so,
Either, to satisfie themselves, or you;
So you refuse Men, most Immodestly,
But that, your Kindness, they may dearer buy,
Are Chast so, from Insatiability.