In all our Cinthia's shining sphere

In all our Cinthia's shining sphere

Methinks the fairest face is here:

Say, lovely thing, - what art thou?

I came, Sir, from the world below,

I once was mortal flesh and blood,

And scarce my beauty's bloom display'd,

I dropt, - a tender virgin, but I play'd

The fool, and died a maid.

For which the Gods have sent me here,

To shine, a star in Cinthia's sphere.

So fair a face in a world so base, yet died a maid?

A very, ver maid.

Have a care what you say.

A pure maid.

Are you sure you don't lie?

A pure maid. I'll tell you why,

The truth that will plainly be seen,

For I died so very youngnot full thirteen;

Do you think I would deceive you?

No, I do believe you.

That wonder in any age may once be seen,

There may be a maid not full thirteen.

But were you to live your life over again,

Oh? what would you do then?

I'm very much afraid you would still die a maid.

And keep your virgin innocence unshaken.

I fear you are mistaken.

How? not die a maid?

No, not I.

Not die a maid?

Not die a maid, and I'll tell you why.

These eyes I'm sure were for love designed,

And these charms they were lent me to bless mankind.

Then shall I die a maid?

No, no, no, no, no, no!

Then will you die a maid?

No, I hope I have more wit than so.

I hope you have more wit than so.

I'm sure I have more wit than so.