Affected Indifference - To The Same; Ode IV
Yes; you contemn the perjur'd maid Who all your favorite hopes betray'd: Nor, though her heart should home return, Her tuneful tongue it's falsehood mourn, Her winning eyes your faith implore, Would you her hand receive again, Or once dissemble your disdain, Or listen to the syren's theme, Or stoop to love: since now esteem And confidence, and friendship, is no more. Yet tell me, Phaedra, tell me why, When summoning your pride you try To meet her looks with cool neglect, Or cross her walk with slight respect, (For so is falsehood best repaid) Whence do your cheeks indignant glow? Why is your struggling tongue so slow? What means that darkness on your brow? As if with all her broken vow You meant the fair apostate to upbraid?
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"Yes; you contemn the perjur'd maid..."
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