The observations in the preceding note apply to Miss Guiney's supposition that 'that' in the penultimate line is a misprint for 'though'. 'I pity thee _in_ (or 'for') that thou wouldst not pity me.'] _Song._ BY M. W. M. Wert thou yet fairer than thou art, Which lies not in the power of Art; Or hadst thou in thine eyes more darts Than ever Cupid shot at hearts; Yet if they were not thrown at me, I would not cast a thought on thee, I'd rather marry a disease, Than court the thing I cannot please; She that will cherish my desires, Must meet my flames with equal fires. 10 What pleasure is there in a kiss To him that doubts the heart's not his? I love thee not because th' art fair, Softer than down, smoother than air; Nor for the Cupids that do lie In either corner of thine eye: Wouldst thou then know what it might be? 'Tis I love you, 'cause you love me. [_Song._] In _1647_ the song itself is not given, and the title of Stanley's piece is '_In Answer to a Song_, Wert thou much fairer than thou art, &c.' I do not know who Master W. M. was--possibly Walter Montagu, Abbé de Saint-Martin, whom we have met once or twice in commendatory poems, and who was of the Cavalier literary set.] _Answer._ Wert thou by all affections sought, And fairer than thou wouldst be thought; Or had thine eyes as many darts As thou believ'st they shoot at hearts; Yet if thy love were paid to me, I would not offer mine to thee. I'd sooner court a fever's heat, Than her that owns a flame as great; She that my love will entertain, Must meet it with no less disdain; 10 For mutual fires themselves destroy, And willing kisses yield no joy. I love thee not because alone Thou canst all beauty call thine own Nor doth my passion fuel seek In thy bright eye or softer cheek: Then, fairest, if thou wouldst know why I love thee, 'cause thou canst deny. _The Relapse._ Oh, turn away those cruel eyes, The stars of my undoing! Or Death, in such a bright disguise, May tempt a second wooing. Punish their blindly impious pride, Who dare contemn thy glory; It was my fall that deified Thy name, and seal'd thy story. Yet no new sufferings can prepare A higher praise to crown thee; 10 Though my first Death proclaim thee fair, My second will unthrone thee. Lovers will doubt thou canst entice No other for thy fuel, And if thou burn one victim twice, Both think thee poor and cruel.