GetPassage urn:cts:latinLit:phi0959.phi001.perseus-eng2:3.11.41-3.11.60 urn:cts:latinLit:phi0959.phi001.perseus-eng2:3.11.41-3.11.60

'Twas plain I shared with many more your heart.What need I of your perjuries bring proof,Suppose the common talk was not enough!What do your ogles and your gestures mean,Your carriage at th' assembly and the scene ?There's scarce a fop you meet with in your way,To whom you have not something soft to say;Some token which you either understandBy mystic words or motion of the hand.They tell me you are sick; I run to see,And find, as ill as you pretend to be,It is not for my rival, but for me.I seldom told you of your faults, but stroveTo cover all your failings with my love;Of this I might remind you, and much more,But what avails it now; th' affair is o'er:A fond you found me, and a patient man,And get you such another if you can.I fear not now your frowns; my bark defiesThe storm of words, and tempest of your eyes;