In _Chloris_ all soft Charms agree, Enchanting Humour pow'rful Wit; Beauty from Affectation free, And for Eternal Empire fit: Where-e'er she goes, Love waits her Eyes, The Women Envy, Men adore; Tho' did she less the Triumph Prize, She wou'd deserve the Conquest more.

But Vanity so much prevails, She begs what else none can deny her; And with inviting treach'rous Smiles Gives hopes which ev'n prevent desire: Reaches at every trifling Heart, Grows warm with ev'ry glimm'ring Flame: And common Prey so deads her Dart, It scarce can wound a n.o.ble Game.

I could lye Ages at her Feet, Adore her careless of my Pain; With tender Vows her Rigour meet, Despair, love on, and not complain: My Pa.s.sion from all change secur'd, Favours may rise, no Frown controuls; I any Torment can endure, But hoping with a crowd of Fools.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ THO. FARMER.

[Music]

When busie Fame o'er all the Plain, _Velinda's_ Praises rung; And on their Oaten Pipes each Swain Her matchless Beauty sung: The Envious Nymphs were forc'd to yield She had the sweetest Face; No emulous disputes were held, But for the second place.

Young _Coridon_, whose stubborn Heart No Beauty e'er could move; But smil'd at _Cupid's_ Bow and Dart, And brav'd the G.o.d of Love: Would view this Nymph, and pleas'd at first, Such silent Charms to see: With Wonder gaz'd, then sigh'd, and curs'd His Curiosity.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ FISHBURNE.

[Music]

Why am I the only Creature, Must a ruin'd Love pursue; Other Pa.s.sions yield to Nature, Mine there's nothing can subdue: Not the Glory of Possessing, Monarch wishes gave me ease, More and more the mighty Blessings Did my raging Pains encrease.

Nor could Jealousie relieve me, Tho' it ever waited near; Cloath'd in gawdy Pow'r to grieve me, Still the Monster would appear: That, nor Time, nor Absence neither, Nor Despair removes my Pain; I endure them all together, Yet my Torments still remain.

Had alone her matchless beauty, Set my amorous Heart on Fire, Age at last would do its Duty, Fuel ceasing, Flames expire.

But her Mind immortal grows, Makes my Love immortal too; Nature ne'er created Faces, Can the Charms of Souls undoe.

And to make my Loss the greater, She laments it as her own; Could she scorn me, I might hate her, But alas! she shews me none: Then since Fortune is my Ruin, In Retirement I'll Complain; And in rage for my undoing, Ne'er come in its Power again.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

_Laurinda_, who did love Disdain, For whom had languish'd many a Swain: Leading her bleating Flocks to drink, She 'spy'd upon a River's brink A Youth, whose Eyes did well declare, How much he lov'd, but lov'd not her.

At first she laugh'd, but gaz'd a while, Which soon it lessen'd to a smile; Thence to Surprize and Wonder came, Her Breast to heave, her Heart to flame: Then cry'd she out, Ah! now I prove Thou art a G.o.d most mighty _Jove_.

She would have spoke, but shame deny'd, And bid her first consult her Pride; But soon she found that aid was gone, For _Jove_, ala.s.s! had left her none: Ah! now she burns! but 'tis too late, For in his Eyes she reads her Fate.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

Fair _Caelia_ too fondly contemns those Delights, Wherewith gentle Nature hath soften'd the Nights; If she be so kind to present us with Pow'r, The Fault is our own to neglect the good Hour: Who gave thee this Beauty, ordain'd thou should'st be, As kind to thy Slaves, as the G.o.ds were to thee.

Then _Caelia_ no longer reserve the vain Pride, Of wronging thy self, to see others deny'd; If Love be a Pleasure, ala.s.s! you will find, We both are not happy, when both are most kind: But Women, like Priests, do in others reprove, And call that thing l.u.s.t, which in them is but Love.

What they thro' their Madness and Folly create, We poor silly Slaves still impute to our Fate; But in such Distempers where Love is the Grief, 'Tis _Caelia_, not Heaven, must give us Relief: Then away with those t.i.tles of Honour and Cause, Which first made us sin, by giving us Laws.

_A_ SONG.

_Set by Mr._ WILLIAM TURNER.

[Music]

I Lik'd, but never Lov'd before I saw that charming Face; Now every Feature I adore, And doat on ev'ry Grace: She ne'er shall know that kind desire, Which her cold Looks denies, Unless my Heart that's all on Fire, Should sparkle through my Eyes: Then if no gentle Glance return, A silent Leave to speak; My Heart which would for ever burn, Ala.s.s! must sigh and break.

_A_ SONG _in_ Valentinian.

[Music]

Where would coy _Amyntas_ run, From a despairing Lover's Story?

When her Eyes have Conquest won, Why should her Ear refuse the Glory: Shall a Slave, whose Racks constrain, Be forbidden to complain; Let her scorn me, let her Fly me, Let her Looks, her Love deny me: Ne'er shall my Heart yield to despair, Or my Tongue cease to tell my Care, Or my Tongue cease to tell my Care: Much to love, and much to pray, Is to Heav'n the only way.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Pelham Humphreys.

[Music]

A Wife I do hate, For either she's False, or she's Jealous; But give me a Mate, Who nothing will ask us or tell us: She stands at no Terms, Nor Chaffers by way of Indenture: Or Loves for the Farms, But takes the kind Man at a Venture.

If all prove not right, Without an Act, Process or Warning, From Wife for a Night, You may be divorc'd the next Morning, Where Parents are Slaves, Their Brats can't be any other; Great Wits and great Braves, Have always a Punk to their Mother.