A
Better
Answer
.
I.
Dear
Cloe
,
how
blubber'd
is
that
pretty
Face
?
Thy
Cheek
all
on
Fire
,
and
Thy
Hair
all
uncurl'd
:
Pr'ythee
quit
this
Caprice
;
and
(
as
old
Falstaf
says
)
Let
Us
e'en
talk
a
little
like
Folks
of
This
World
.
II
.
How
can'st
Thou
presume
,
Thou
hast
leave
to
destroy
The
Beauties
,
which
Venus
but
lent
to
Thy
keeping
?
Those
Looks
were
design'd
to
inspire
Love
and
Joy
:
More
ord'nary
Eyes
may
serve
People
for
weeping
.
III
.
To
be
vext
at
a
Trifle
or
two
that
I
writ
,
Your
Judgment
at
once
,
and
my
Passion
You
wrong
:
You
take
that
for
Fact
,
which
will
scarce
be
found
Wit
:
Od's
Life
!
must
One
swear
to
the
Truth
of
a
Song
?
IV
.
What
I
speak
,
my
fair
Cloe
,
and
what
I
write
,
shews
The
Diff'rence
there
is
betwixt
Nature
and
Art
:
I
court
others
in
Verse
;
but
I
love
Thee
in
Prose
:
And
They
have
my
Whimsies
;
but
Thou
hast
my
Heart
.
V.
The
God
of
us
Verse-men
(
You
know
Child
)
the
Sun
,
How
after
his
Journeys
He
sets
up
his
Rest
:
If
at
Morning
o'er
Earth
'tis
his
Fancy
to
run
;
At
Night
he
reclines
on
his
Thetis's
Breast
.
VI
.
So
when
I
am
weary'd
with
wand'ring
all
Day
;
To
Thee
my
Delight
in
the
Evening
I
come
:
No
Matter
what
Beauties
I
saw
in
my
Way
:
They
were
but
my
Visits
;
but
Thou
art
my
Home
.
VII
.
Then
finish
,
Dear
Cloe
,
this
Pastoral
War
;
And
let
us
like
Horace
and
Lydia
agree
:
For
Thou
art
a
Girl
as
much
brighter
than
Her
,
As
He
was
a
Poet
sublimer
than
Me
.