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.