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Aphra Behn - The Libertine
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A THOUSAND martyrs I have made, 
   All sacrificed to my desire, 
A thousand beauties have betray`d 
   That languish in resistless fire: 
The untamed heart to hand I brought, 
And fix`d the wild and wand`ring thought. 

I never vow`d nor sigh`d in vain, 
   But both, tho` false, were well received; 
The fair are pleased to give us pain, 
   And what they wish is soon believed: 
And tho` I talk`d of wounds and smart, 
Love`s pleasures only touch`d my heart. 

Alone the glory and the spoil 
   I always laughing bore away; 
The triumphs without pain or toil, 
   Without the hell the heaven of joy; 
And while I thus at random rove 
Despise the fools that whine for love.
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