For pity, thou that wiser art, No blame him, whoe'er blames my wit, [LANSDOWN.] WHY, cruel creature, why so bent, To vex a tender heart? To gold and title you relent; Love throws in vain his dart. For Let glitt'ring fops in courts be great, If on those endless charms you lay Kings are themselves too poor to pay; But if a passion without vice, Ah, Celia! if true love's your price, [CARTER.] FOREVER, Fortune, wilt thou prove And when we meet a mutual heart, Bid us sigh on from day to day, But busy, busy still art thou, For once, O Fortune, hear my pray'r, And I absolve thy future care; All other wishes I resign, Make but the dear Amanda mine. YOUNG I am, and yet unskill'd Take me, take me some of you Heave my breasts, and roll my eyes. Stay not till I learn the way Could I find a blooming youth SAY not, Olinda, I despise The faded glories of your face, The languish'd vigour of your eyes, And that once only-lov'd embrace. In vain, in vain, my constant heart I blame not your decay of power, On youthful climes your beams display DEAR Chloe, while thus beyond measure The passion from beauty first drawn And though the bright beams of your eyes, We ne'er can forget it was day. Old Darby with Joan by his side You oft have regarded with wonder; He is dropsical, she is sore-ey'd, And sit in the sun at the door, And at night when old Darby's pot's out, His Joan will not smoke a whiff more. No beauty or wit they possess Their several failings to smother, Then what are the charms, can you guess, That make them so fond of each other? 'Tis the pleasing remembrance of youth, The endearments that love did bestow, The thoughts of past pleasure and truth,, The best of all blessings below. |