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George Gordon Byron - Reply To Some Verses Of J.M.B. Pigot, Esq. On The Cruelty Of His Mistress
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Why, Pigot, complain of this damsel`s disdain,
   Why thus in despair do you fret?
For months you may try, yet, believe me, a sigh
   Will never obtain a coquette.

Would you teach her to love? for a time seem to rove;
   At first she may frown in a pet;
But leave her awhile, she shortly will smile,
   And then you may kiss your coquette.

For such are the airs of these fanciful fairs,
    They think all our homage a debt:
Yet a partial neglect soon takes an effect,
    And humbles the proudest coquette.

Dissemble your pain, and lengthen your chain,
    And seem her hauteur to regret;
If again you shall sigh, she no more will deny,
    That yours is the rosy coquette.

If still, from false pride, your pangs she deride,
   This whimsical virgin forget;
Some other adiaiire, who will melt with your fire,
    And laugh at the little coquette.

For me I adore some twenty or more, 
    And love them most dearly but yet
Though my heart they enthral, I`d abandon them all,
    Did they act like your blooming coquette.

No longer repine, adopt this design,
   And break through her slight-woven  net;
Away with despair, no longer forbear 
   To fly from the captious coquette.

Then quit her, my friend your bosom defend,
   Ere quite with her snares you`re beset;
Lest your deep-wounded heart, when incensed by the smart,
   Should lead you to curse the coquette.
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