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Matthew Prior - A Better Answer
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Dear Cloe, how blubber`d is that pretty Face?
Thy Cheek all on Fire, and Thy Hair all uncurl`d:
Pr`ythee quit this Caprice; and (as old Falstaf says)
Let Us e`en talk a little like Folks of This World.

How can`st Thou presume, Thou hast leave to destroy
The Beauties, which Venus but lent to Thy keeping?
Those Looks were design`d to inspire Love and Joy:
More ord`nary Eyes may serve People for weeping.

To be vext at a Trifle or two that I writ,
Your Judgment at once, and my Passion You wrong:
You take that for Fact, which will scarce be found Wit:
Odd`s Life! must One swear to the Truth of a Song?

What I speak, my fair Cloe, and what I write, shews
The Diff`rence there is betwixt Nature and Art:
I court others in Verse; but I love Thee in Prose:
And They have my Whimsies; but Thou hast my Heart.

The God of us Verse-men (You know Child) the Sun,
How after his Journeys He sets up his Rest:
If at Morning o`er Earth `tis his Fancy to run;
At Night he reclines on his Thetis`s Breast.

So when I am weary`d with wand`ring all Day;
To Thee my Delight in the Evening I come:
No Matter what Beauties I saw in my Way:
They were but my Visits; but Thou art my Home.

Then finish, Dear Cloe, this Pastoral War;
And let us like Horace and Lydia agree:
For Thou art a Girl as much brighter than Her,
As He was a Poet sublimer than Me.
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