#here are a couple other glosses: 'chaffer' - haggle; 'dun' - make demands (usually for money)

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To Lysander (On some Verses he writ, and asking more for his Heart than ‘twas worth.)

I read this great poem by Aphra Behn yesterday and have to share it. The whole thing is an extended metaphor playing on men's romantic fickleness described in mercantile terms. It's pretty long so I'll put most of it under a cut.

. I

Take back that heart, you with such caution give,

    Take the fond valued rifle back;

I hate love-merchants that a trade would drive

    And meanly cunning bargains make.

                                    II

I care not how the busy market goes,

   And scorn to chaffer for a price:

Love does one staple rate on all impose,

   Nor leaves it to the trader’s choice.

                                    III

A heart requires a heart unfeigned and true,

    Though subtly you advance the price,

And ask a rate that simple love ne’er knew:

    And the free trade monopolize.

                                   IV

An humble slave the buyer must become,

    She must not bate a look or glance

You will have all or you’ll have none;

    See how love’s market you enhance.

                                    V

Is’t not enough, I gave you heart for heart,

    But I must add my lips and eyes;

I must no friendly smile or kiss impart;

    But you must dun me with advice.

                                    VI

And every hour still more unjust you grow,

   Those freedoms you my life deny,

You to Adraste are obliged to show,

   And giver her all my rifled joy.

                                    VII

Without control she gazes on that face,

   And all the happy envied night,

In the pleased circle of your fond embrace:

   She takes away the lover's right.

                                    VIII

From me she ravishes those silent hours,

   That are by sacred love my due;

Whilst I in vain accuse the angry powers,

   That make me hopeless love pursue.

                                    IX

Adraste's ears with that dear voice are blessed,

   That charms my soul at every sound,

And with those love-enchanting touches pressed:

   Which I ne’er felt without a wound.

                                    X

She has thee all: whilst I with silent grief,

   The fragments of thy softness feel,

Yet dare not blame the happy licensed thief:

   That does my dear-bought pleasures steal.

                                    XI

Whilst like a glimmering taper still I burn,

   And waste my self in my own flame,

Adraste takes the welcome rich return:

   And leaves me all the hopeless pain.

                                    XII

Be just, my lovely swain, and do not take

   Freedoms you’ll not to me allow;

Or give Aminta so much freedom back:

   That she may rove as well as you.

                                    XIII

Let us then love upon the honest square,

   Since interest neither have designed,

For the sly gamester, who ne’er plays me fair,

   Must trick for trick expect to find.   

Aphra Behn, 1684