| 1 | Why do I love? Go, ask the Glorious Sun | 1 | Why do I love? Go, ask the Glorious Sun |
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| 2 | | 2 | Why every day it round the world doth run; |
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| 3 | Why every day it round the world doth run; | 3 | Ask Thames and Tiber, why they Ebb and Flow: |
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| 4 | | 4 | Ask Damask Roses why in June they blow; |
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| 5 | Ask Thames and Tiber, why they Ebb and Flow: | 5 | Ask Ice and Hail, the reason, why they’re Cold: |
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| 6 | | 6 | Decaying Beauties, why they will grow Old |
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| 7 | Ask Damask Roses why in June they blow; | 7 | They’ll tell thee, Fate, that every thing doth move, |
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| 8 | | 8 | Inforces them to this, and me to Love. |
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| 9 | Ask Ice and Hail, the reason, why they’re Cold: | 9 | There is no Reason for our Love or Hate; |
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| 10 | | 10 | ’Tis irresistible, as Death or Fate; |
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| 11 | Decaying Beauties, why they will grow Old | 11 | ’Tis not his face; I’ve sence enough to see, |
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| 12 | | 12 | That is not good, though doated on by me; |
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| 13 | They’ll tell thee, Fate, that every thing doth move, | 13 | Not is’t his Tongue, that has this Conquest won; |
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| 14 | | 14 | For that at least is equall’d by my own: |
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| 15 | Inforces them to this, and me to Love. | 15 | His Carriage can to none obliging be, |
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| 16 | | 16 | ’Tis Rude, Affected, full of Vanity: |
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| 17 | There is no Reason for our Love or Hate; | 17 | Strangely Ill-natur’d, Peevish and Unkind, |
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| 18 | | 18 | Unconstant, False, to Jealousie inclin’d, |
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| 19 | ’Tis irresistible, as Death or Fate; | 19 | His Temper cou’d not have so great a Pow’r, |
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| 20 | | 20 | ’Tis mutable, and changes every hour: |
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| 21 | ’Tis not his face; I’ve sence enough to see, | 21 | Those vigorous Years that Women so Adore, |
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| 22 | | 22 | Are past in him: he’s twice my Age, and more; |
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| 23 | That is not good, though doated on by me; | 23 | And yet I love this false, this worthless man |
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| 24 | | 24 | With all the Passion that a Woman can; |
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| 25 | Not is’t his Tongue, that has this Conquest won; | 25 | Doat on his Imperfections, though I spy |
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| 26 | | 26 | Nothing to Love; I Love, and know not why. |
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| 27 | For that at least is equall’d by my own: | 27 | Since ’tis Decreed in the dark Book of Fate |
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| 28 | | | |
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| 29 | His Carriage can to none obliging be, | | |
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| 30 | | | |
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| 31 | ’Tis Rude, Affected, full of Vanity: | | |
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| 32 | | | |
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| 33 | Strangely Ill-natur’d, Peevish and Unkind, | | |
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| 34 | | | |
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| 35 | Unconstant, False, to Jealousie inclin’d, | | |
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| 36 | | | |
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| 37 | His Temper cou’d not have so great a Pow’r, | | |
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| 38 | | | |
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| 39 | ’Tis mutable, and changes every hour: | | |
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| 40 | | | |
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| 41 | Those vigorous Years that Women so Adore, | | |
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| 42 | | | |
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| 43 | Are past in him: he’s twice my Age, and more; | | |
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| 44 | | | |
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| 45 | And yet I love this false, this worthless man | | |
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| 46 | | | |
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| 47 | With all the Passion that a Woman can; | | |
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| 48 | | | |
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| 49 | Doat on his Imperfections, though I spy | | |
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| 50 | | | |
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| 51 | Nothing to Love; I Love, and know not why. | | |
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| 52 | | | |
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| 53 | Since ’tis Decreed in the dark Book of Fate | | |
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| 54 | | | |
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