Fair Iris I love and hourly I die, But not for a lip nor a languishing eye: She's fickle and false, and there I agree; For I am as false and as fickle as she: We neither believe what either can say; And, neither believing, we neither betray. 'Tis civil to swear and say things, of course; We mean not the taking for better or worse. When present we love, when absent agree; I think not of Iris, nor Iris of me: The legend of love no couple can find So easy to part, or so equally join'd.