William Congreve

Fair Amoret is gone astray,
Pursue and seek her, ev'ry lover;
I'll tell the signs by which you may
The wand'ring Shepherdess discover.

Coquette and coy at once her air,
Both studied, tho' both seem neglected;
Careless she is, with artful care,
Affecting to seem unaffected.

With skill her eyes dart ev'ry glance,
Yet change so soon you'd neer suspect them,
For she'd persuade they wound by chance,
Tho' certain aim and art direct them.

She likes herself, yet others hates
For that which in herself she prizes;
And, while she laughs at them, forgets
She is the thing hat she despises.

A Hue And Cry After Fair Amoret.
The Oxford Book of English Verse:
1250-1900, Clarendon, 1919

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