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Ever scorning, and denying
To reward your faithful swain :'
Chloe, laughing at his crying,

Told him that he loved in vain :'
Kiss me, dear, before my dying;
Kiss me once, and ease my pain !

Chloe, laughing at his crying,

Told him that he loved in vain :' But repenting and complying,

When he kiss'd, she kiss'd again: Kiss'd him up, before his dying; Kiss'd him up, and eased his pain.

Go tell Amynta, gentle swain,
I would not die, nor dare complain :
Thy tuneful voice with numbers join,
Thy words will more prevail than mine.
To souls oppress'd, and dumb with grief,
The gods ordain this kind relief,
That music should in sounds convey
What dying lovers dare not say,

A sigh or tear, perhaps, she 'll give,
But love on pity cannot live:

Tell her that hearts for hearts were made,

And love with love is only paid:

Tell her my pains so fast increase,
That soon they will be past redress:
But, ah! the wretch that speechless lies,
Attends but death to close his eyes.

TO

A FAIR YOUNG LADY,

GOING OUT OF THE TOWN IN THE SPRING.

ASK not the cause, why sullen Spring
So long delays her flowers to bear;
Why warbling birds forget to sing,
And winter-storms invert the year:
Chloris is gone, and Fate provides
To make it Spring where she resides.

Chloris is gone, the cruel fair!

She cast not back a pitying eye;
But left her lover in despair,

To sigh, to languish, and to die :
Ah, how can those fair eyes endure
To give the wounds they will not cure!

Great god of Love, why hast thou made

A face that can all hearts command, That all religions can invade,

And change the laws of every land? Where thou hadst placed such power before, Thou shouldst have made her mercy more.

When Chloris to the temple comes,
Adoring crowds before her fall;
She can restore the dead from tombs,
And every life but mine recall.
I only am by love design'd
To be the victim for mankind.

OF

A SCHOLAR AND HIS MISTRESS,

WHO BEING CROSSED BY THEIR FRIENDS, FELL MAD FOR ONE ANOTHER, AND NOW FIRST MEET IN BEDLAM.

[Music within.]

The lovers enter at opposite doors, each held by a

keeper.

-I see my

love

appear!

PHIL. Look, look, I see

"Tis he-'tis he alone,

For like him there is none;

'Tis the dear, dear man; 'tis thee, dear. AMYNT. Hark! the winds war,

The foamy waves roar;

I see a ship afar,

Tossing and tossing and making to the shore:
But what's that I view,

So radiant of hue,

St. Hermo, St. Hermo, that sits upon the sails? Ah! No, no, no.

St. Hermo never, never shone so bright;

'Tis Phillis, only Phillis, can shoot so fair a light: "Tis Phillis, 'tis Phillis, that saves the ship alone, For all the winds are hush'd, and the storm is overblown.

PHIL. Let me go, let me run, let me fly to his arms.
AMYNT. If all the fates combine,

And all the furies join,

[charm.

I'll force my way to Phillis, and break through the

[Here they break from their keepers, run to each other, and embrace.

PHIL. Shall I marry the man I love?
And shall I conclude my pains?
Now bless'd be the Powers above,
I feel the blood bound in my veins;
With a lively leap it began to move,
And the vapours leave my brains.

AMYNT. Body join'd to body, and heart join'd To make sure of the cure,

[to heart,

Go call the man in black to mumble o'er his part.

PHIL. But suppose he should stay

AMYNT. At worst if he delay,

"Tis a work must be done,

We'll borrow but a day,

And the better, the sooner begun.

Chorus of both.] At worst if he delay, &c.

[They run out together hand in hand.

FROM

MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE.

WHY should a foolish marriage vow,
Which long ago was made,
Oblige us to each other now,
When passion is decay'd?
We lov'd and we lov'd
As long as we could,

Till our love was lov'd out of us both;
But our marriage is dead,

When the pleasures are fled;
'Twas pleasure first made it an oath.

If I have pleasures for a friend,

And further love in store,

What wrong has he, whose joys did end, And who could give no more?

"Tis a madness that he

Should be jealous of me,

Or that I should bar him of another:
For all we can gain

Is to give ourselves pain,
When neither can hinder the other.

FROM

TYRANNIC LOVE.

Aн, how sweet it is to love!

Ah, how

gay is young Desire !

And what pleasing pains we prove
When we first approach Love's fire!
Pains of love be sweeter far
Than all other pleasures are.

Sighs which are from lovers blown
Do but gently heave the heart:
E'en the tears they shed alone
Cure, like trickling balm, their smart.
Lovers, when they lose their breath,
Bleed away in easy death.

Love and Time with reverence use,
Treat them like a parting friend:
Nor the golden gifts refuse
Which in youth sincere they send:
For each year their price is more,
And they less simple than before.

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