"Tell me no more"
di Sir George Etheredge (1635?-1691)

Tell me no more I am deceived,
That Chloe's false and common:
By heaven, I all along believed
She was a very woman.
As such I liked, as such caressed,
She still was constant when possessed,
She could do more for no man.
But oh! her thoughts on others ran,
And that you think a hard thing,
Perhaps she fancied you the man,
And what care I one farthing.
You think she's false, I'm sure she's kind;
I take her body, you her mind,
Who has the better bargain?