Let perjured fair Amynta know What for her sake I undergo; Tell her, for her how I sustain A lingering fever`s wasting pain; Tell her the torments I endure, Which only, only she can cure. But, oh! she scorns to hear or see The wretch that lies so low as me; Her sudden greatness turns her brain, And Strephon hopes, alas! in vain; For ne`er `twas found (though often tried) That Pity ever dwelt with Pride.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.