I.
Thyrsis. Simple Damon! tell me why
Dost thou not reveal thy anguish,
But in Silence pine and languish?
To thy self an Enemy.
If she knows not of thy Grief,
How canst thou expect Relief?

II.
Damon. While with Wonder I behold Her,
Words their friendly Aid deny:
But my Eyes have often told her,
That for Her alone I die.
Did her Breast to Love incline,
Sure her Eyes would answer mine.

III.
Thyrsis. Pr'ythee, learn to be more wise,
Court her Ears as well as Eyes:
Every Way your Passion shew,
If you would to Pity move her;
Looks alone will never do,
Women hate a silent Lover.