For Damon, being asked a Reason for his Love

You ask me, Phillis, why I still pursue,
And court no other nymph but you;
And why with looks and sighs i still betray
A passion which I dare not say.
Tis all, because I do: you ask me why,
And with a woman's reason, I reply.

You ask what argument I have to prove, 
That my unrest proceeds from love,
You'll not believe my passion till you know,
A better reason why 'tis so.
Then, Phillis, let this reason go for one,
I know I love because my reason's gone.

You say a love like mine must needs declare
The object so beloved not fair;
That neither wit nor beauty in her dwell,
Whose lover can no reason tell,
What 'tis that he adores, and why he burns:
Phillis, let those give such that have returns.

And by the very reasons that you use,
Damon might justly you accuse;
Why do you scorn, and with proud disdain
Receive the vow, and slight the swain?
You say you cannot love, you know no cause:
May i not prove my love by your own laws?

Am not I youthful, and as gay a swain,
As e'er appeared upon the plain?
Have I not courted you with all th' address
An am'rous shepherd could profess?
And add to this, my flocks and herds are great,
But Phillis only can my joy complete.

Yet you no reason for your coldness give,
And 'tis but just you should believe
That all your beauties unadorned by art,
Have hurt and not obliged my heart.
Be kind to that, my hearty vows return
And then I'll tell you why, for what I burn.