_Hor._ While I was lovely in thine eye,
And while no soft embrace but mine
Encircled thy fair ivory neck,
I did the Persian King outshine.
_Lyd._ While Horace was an honest lad,
And Chloe less than Lydia lov'd,
Lydia was then a matchless Lass,
And in a sphere 'bove Ilia mov'd.
_Hor._ But Chloe now has vanquish'd me,
That lute and voice who could deny? 10
Methinks might I but save her life,
I could myself even dare to die.
_Lyd._ Young Calais is my gallant,
He burns me with his flaming eye;
To save the pretty villain's life,
Twice over I could dare to die.
_Hor._ But say I Lydia lov'd again,
And would new-braze Love's broken chain?
Say I should turn my Chloe off,
And take poor Lydia home again? 20
_Lyd._ Why then though he a fixèd star.
Thou lighter than a cork shouldst be,
Mad, and unquiet as the sea,
Yet would I live, and die with thee.