If After Times Should Pay The Least Attention To These Rhymes, I Bid Them Learn 'Tis Not My Own Heart Here That Doth So Often Seem To Break And Burn - O No Such Thing! - Nor Is It My Own Dear Always I Sing: But, As A Scrivener In The Market-Place, I Sit And Write For Lovers, Him Or Her, Making A Song To Match Each Lover'S Case - A Trifling Gift Sometimes The Gods Confer! (After Strato)