Poem by John Dryden

Song from Amphitryon

Air Iris I love, and hourly I die,
But not for a lip, nor a languishing eye:
She's fickle and false, and there we agree,
For I am as false and as fickle as she.
We neither believe what either can say;
And, neither believing, we neither betray.
'Tis civil to swear, and say things of course;
We mean not the taking for better or worse.
When present, we love; when absent, agree:
I think not of Iris, nor Iris of me.
The legend of love no couple can find,
So easy to part, or so equally join'd. 

1. Upon Young Mr. Rogers, of Gloucestershire
2. A Song (High State and Honours to others impart)
3. Te Deum
4. You Charm'd Me Not With That Fair Face
5. To the Lady Castlemaine, upon Her incouraging his first Play

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