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When in the crowd yours undistinguish'd lies,
You give away the triumph of your eyes.
Perhaps (obtaining this) you 'll think I find
More mercy, than your anger has defign'd:
But Love has carefully defign'd for me,
The laft perfection of mifery.

For to my state the hopes of common peace,
Which every wretch enjoys in death, must cease,
My worst of fates attend me in my grave,
Since, dying, I must be no more your slave.

WOMAN'S

HONOUR.

G.

A S O N

I.

LOVE bid me hope, and I obey'd;

Phillis continued ftill unkind :

Then you may e'en despair, he faid,
In vain I strive to change her mind.

II.

Honour's got in, and keeps her heart,

Durft he but venture once abroad,
In my own right I'd take your part,
And fhew myfelf a mightier god.

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This huffing Honour domineers
En breafts, where he alone has place :
But if true generous Love appears,
The hector dares not fhew his face.

IV. Let

IV.

Let me ftill languish and complain,

Be most inhumanly deny'd :
I have fome pleasure in my pain,
She can have none with all her pride.

V.

I fall a facrifice to Love,

She lives a wretch for Honour's fake. Whofe tyrant does most cruel prove, The difference is not hard to make.

VI.

Confider Real Honour then,

You'll find hers cannot be the fame; 'Tis noble confidence in men,

In women mean miftruftful fhame.

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Then to the Trojans they grew kind,

to the

Was with their arms to let them go,

And leave their lingering wives behind. They beat the men, and burnt the town; Then all the baggage was their own.

II.

There the kind deity of wine

Kifs'd the foft wanton god of love;
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This

This clapp'd his wings, that prefs'd his vine;

And their best powers united move.

While each brave Greek embrac'd his punk,
Lull'd her afleep, and then grew drunk.

THE

MISTRESS.

A SON G.

I.

AN age, in her embraces paft,

Would feem a winter's day;

Where life and light, with envious hafte,
Are torn and fnatch'd away.
II.

But, oh! how flowly minutes roll,
When abfent from her eyes;

That fed my love, which is my foul,

It languishes and dies.

III.

For then, no more a foul but shade,

It mournfully does move;
And haunts my breast, by abfence made

The living tomb of love.

IV.

You wifer men despise me not;

Whofe love-fick fancy raves,

On fhades of fouls, and heaven knows what :

Short ages live in graves.

V. Whene'er

V.

Whene'er those wounding eyes, fo full
Of fweetnefs you did fee,

Had you not been profoundly dull,

You had gone mad like me.

VI.

Nor cenfure us, you who perceive
My best-belov'd and me,
Sigh and lament, complain and grieve,
You think we difagree.

VII.

Alas! 'tis facred jealousy,

Love rais'd to an extreme;

The only proof, 'twixt them and me,
We love, and do not dream.

VIII.

Fantastic fancies fondly move,

And in frail joys believe:
Taking falfe pleasure for true love;
But pain can ne'er deceive.
IX.

Kind jealous doubts, tormenting fears,
And anxious cares, when paft,
Prove our heart's treasure fix'd and dear,
And make us blefs'd at last.

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A SO N G.

I.

BSENT from thee I languish ftill;
Then ask me not, When I return?
The ftraying fool 't will plainly kill,
To wish all day, all night to mourn.

II.

Dear, from thine arms then let me fly,
That my fantastic mind may prove
The torments it deferves to try,

That tears my fix'd heart from my love.

III.

When wearied with a world of woe

To thy fafe bofom I retire,

Where love, and peace, and truth, does flow,
May I contented there expire!

IV.

Left, once more wandering from that heaven,
I fall on fome bafe heart unbleft;
Faithlefs to thee, falfe, unforgiven,
And lofe my everlasting rest.

A SONG.

I.

PHILLIS, be gentler, I advise,

Make up for time mif-spent,

When beauty on its death-bed lies,

'Tis high time to repent.

II. Such

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