The Argvment.
In one state they can never stay,
Whom Cupids toyes intangle:
What now they chuse, they straight refuse
Still fickle and new-fangle.
Hor.
When I enioy'd thee without check,
And none more welcome did embrace
The snowie treasure of thy neck,
The Persian Monarke gave me place.

Lyd.
While thou lov'd not another more,
Nor Chloë bare away the bell
From Lydia renownd before,
I Roman Ilia did excell.

Hor.
Chloë, my Mistris, is of Thrace,
Whose warbling voyce by skill is led:
For whom I would see Death's pale face,
If she might live when I am dead.

Lyd.
Now Calais is my hearts delight.
He answers me with love againe:
For whom I twice with Death would fight,
If he my halfe-selfe might remaine.

Hor.
What if sweet Venus doe revive,
And true-loues-knot between us tie?
If from my thoughts faire Chlo' I drive,
If my doore ope when Lydia's nie?

Lyd.
Though he then stars be fairer farre,
Thou angrier then the raging Seas
When 'gainst the sturdy rocks they warre:
With thee I'll live and end my dayes.