Stella this Day is thirty four, 
(We shan't dispute a Year or more) 
However Stella, be not troubled, 
Although thy Size and Years are doubled, 
Since first I saw Thee at Sixteen 
The brightest Virgin on the Green, 
So little is thy Form declin'd 
Made up so largely in thy Mind. 
Oh, woud it please the Gods to split 
Thy Beauty, Size, and Years, and Wit, 
No Age could furnish out a Pair 
Of Nymphs so graceful, Wise and fair 
With half the Lustre of your Eyes, 
With half your Wit, your Years and Size: 
And then before it grew too late, 
How should I beg of gentle Fate, 
(That either Nymph might have her Swain,) 
To split my Worship too in twain.