When we risk no contradiction, It prompts the tongue to deal in fiction.
Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring, All on a rock reclined.
From kings to cobblers 'tis the same; Bad servants wound their masters' fame.
What then in love can woman do? If we grow fond they shun us. And when we fly them, they pursue: But leave us when they've won us.
No retreat. No retreat. They must conquer or die who've no retreat.
Envy's a sharper spur than pay.