Lord John Wilmot (1647 - 1680 / Oxfordshire / England)
A Woman's Honour
Love bade me hope, and I obeyed;
Phyllis continued still unkind:
Then you may e'en despair, he said,
In vain I strive to change her mind.
Honour's got in, and keeps her heart,
Durst he but venture once abroad,
In my own right I'd take your part,
And show myself the mightier God.
This huffing Honour domineers
In breasts alone where he has place:
But if true generous Love apppears,
The hector dares not show his face.
Let me still languish and complain,
Be most unhumanly denied:
I have some pleasure in my pain,
She can have none with all her pride.
I fall a sacrifice to Love,
She lives a wretch for Honour's sake;
Whose tyrant does most cruel prove,
The difference is not hard to make.
Consider real Honour then,
You'll find hers cannot be the same;
'Tis noble confidence in men,
In women, mean, mistrustful shame.
Poet Other Poems
- A Fragment of Seneca Translated
- A Satyre Against Mankind
- A Song of a Young Lady to Her Ancient Lo...
- A Woman's Honour
- Absent of Thee I Languish Still
- Against Constancy
- All My Past Life...
- Epitaph on Charles II
- Give Me Leave to Rail at You
- God Bless Our Good and Gracious King
- I Cannot Change, As Others Do
- Love and Life
- My Dear Mistress Has a Heart
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.