Which we the nobler call,
Because 'tis common, and vouchsafed to all.
10
Thou seemedst corrupted with the very power to please.
Only to let thee gratify.
At once did bribe and pay thy courtesy.
Thy kindness by acceptance might be bought,
It for no other wages sought,
But would its own be thought.
No suitors went unsatisfied away
But left thee more unsatisfied than they.
Brave Titus! thou mightst here thy true portraiture find.
And view thy rival in a private mind.
Thou heretofore deservedst such praise,
When acts of goodness did compute thy days,
Measured not by the sun's, but thine own kinder rays.
Thou thoughtest each hour out of life's journal lost,
Which could not some fresh favour boast,
And reckonedst bounties thy best Clepsydras.
11
Deflower their largess with too slow a grant:
Where the deluded suitor dearly buys
What hardly can defray
The expense of importunities,
Or the suspense of torturing delay.
Here was no need of tedious prayers to sue.
Or thy too backward kindness woo.
It movèd with no formal state,
Like theirs whose pomp does for entreaty wait:
But met the swift'st desires half way.
And wishes did well-nigh anticipate;
And then as modestly withdrew,
Nor for its due reward of thanks would stay.
