Ay Me! I Love; Give Him Your Hand To Kiss Who Both Your Wooer And Your Poet Is. Nature Has Precompos'D Us Both To Love: Your Part'S To Grant; My Scene Must Be To Move. Dear, Can You Like, And Liking Love Your Poet? If You Say "Aye," Blush-Guiltiness Will Show It. Mine Eyes Must Woo You, Though I Sigh The While: True Love Is Tongueless As A Crocodile. And You May Find In Love These Different Parts-- Wooers Have Tongues Of Ice, But Burning Hearts.