Let perjur'd fair Augusta know

Let perjured fair Amynta know

What for her sake I undergo;

Tell her, for her how I sustain

A lingering fever's wasting pain;

Tell her the torments I endure,

Which only, only she can cure.

But, oh! she scorns to hear or see

The wretch that lies so low as me;

Her sudden greatness turns her brain,

And Strephon hopes, alas! in vain;

For ne'er 'twas found (though often tried)

That Pity ever dwelt with Pride.