Gone! gone! my girl? so hasty, Margaret! And never a kiss at parting? shallow loves, And likings of a ten days' growth, use courtesies, And show red eyes at parting. Who bids "Farewell!" In the same tone he cries "God speed you, sir?" Or tells of joyful victories at sea, Where he hath ventures; does not rather muffle His organs to emit a leaden sound, To suit the melancholy dull "farewell," Which they in Heaven not use?-- So peevish, Margaret? But 'tis the common error of your sex When our idolatry slackens, or grows less, (As who of woman born can keep his faculty Of Admiration, being a decaying faculty, Forever strain'd to the pitch? or can at pleasure Make it renewable, as some appetites are, As, namely, Hunger, Thirst!--) this being the case, They tax us with neglect, and love grown cold, Coin plainings of the perfidy of men, Which into maxims pass, and apothegms To be retail'd in ballads.-- I know them all. They are jealous when our larger hearts receive More guests than one. (Love in a woman's heart Being all in one.) For me, I am sure I have room here For more disturbers of my sleep than one. Love shall have part, but love shall not have all. Ambition, Pleasure, Vanity, all by turns, Shall lie in my bed, and keep me fresh and waking; Yet Love not be excluded. Foolish wench, I could have loved her twenty years to come, And still have kept my liking. But since 'tis so, Why, fare thee well, old playfellow! I'll try To squeeze a tear for old acquaintance' sake. I shall not grudge so much---- _To him enters_ LOVEL. _Lovel_. Bless us, Woodvil! what is the matter? I protest, man, I thought you had been weeping. _Wood_. Nothing is the matter; only the wench has forced some water into my eyes, which will quickly disband. _Lovel_. I cannot conceive you. _Wood_. Margaret is flown. _Lovel_. Upon what pretence? _Wood_. Neglect on my part: which it seems she has had the wit to discover, maugre all my pains to conceal it. _Lovel_. Then, you confess the charge? _Wood_. To say the truth, my love for her has of late stopped short on this side idolatry. _Lovel_. As all good Christians' should, I think. _Wood_. I am sure, I could have loved her still within the limits of warrantable love. _Lovel_. A kind of brotherly affection, I take it. _Wood_. We should have made excellent man and wife in time. _Lovel_. A good old couple, when the snows fell, to crowd about a sea-coal fire, and talk over old matters. _Wood_. While each should feel, what neither cared to acknowledge, that stories oft-repeated may, at last, come to lose some of their grace by the repetition. _Lovel_. Which both of you may yet live long enough to discover. For, take my word for it, Margaret is a bird that will come back to you without a lure.