Aphra Behn(1640?–1689)
A Thousand Martyrs
A t h o u s a n d martyrs I have m a d e ,
All sacrificed to my desire;
A t h o u s a n d b e a u t i e s have betrayed,
T h a t l a n g u i s h in resistless fire.
T h e u n t a m e d heart to h a n d I brought,
A n d fixed the wild a n d w a n d e r i n g thought.
I never vowed nor sighed in vain
B u t both, t h o u g h false, were well received.
T h e fair are p l e a s e d to give us pain,
And what they wish is soon believed.
A n d t h o u g h I talked of w o u n d s a n d smart,
Love's p l e a s u r e s only t o u c h e d my heart.
A l o n e the glory a n d the spoil
I always l a u g h i n g b o r e away;
T h e t r i u m p h s , without p a i n or toil,
W i t h o u t the hell, the heav'n of joy.
A n d while I thus at r a n d o m rove
D e s p i s e the fools that w h i n e for love.