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. A Song (High State and Honours to others impart)
2. Upon Young Mr. Rogers, of Gloucestershire
3. Epitaph on Sir Palmes Fairborne's Tomb in Westminster Abbey
4. Epitaph on a Nephew in Catworth Church, Huntingdonshire
5. Hymn For St. John's Eve, 29th June

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