Fair Iris I love and hourly I die,
 But not for a lip nor a languishing eye:
 She's fickle and false, and there I 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.