YOU afk, Was I to change my life,
What fort of girl I'd take to wife?
Not one who coy or easy seems;
I hate alike the two extremes.
She fatiates who at first complies;
She starves my love who long denies.
The maid muft not, I'd call my own,
Say no too foft, nor yes too foon.
YOU feem to me by what you fay above,
To know but little of the rights of love.
Coynefs alone will raife the appetite;
Where foft refiftance doth our love invite.
What must we then, from your conclufion draw?
Since "love is liberty, and nature law."
The one is eafy, and the other coy;
Yet neither one can you at all enjoy.
The free maid fullies, and the fhy one starves;
From whence I'm fure you only love by halves.
And tho' you say you hate the two extremes,
I'd almost swear you love in gentle dreams:
For be affur'd, the man who harbours love,
Pays no regard to what you disapprove.
If free and easy, he has less to say;
If coy and fhy, he long muft beg and pray.
In fhort, fince thus you hem! and thus you hey!
I'm sure you love not in the middling way.
me, dear Lady, if I should be free,
In addreffing the language of truth unto thee,
On the fubject of love; of all the most pleasing,
When receiv'd with delight, if not, the most teafing;
And law thrown afide, I tranfcribe as I love,
From feeling efteem, which I hope you'll approve,
Tho' advice I would give you in Gospel or Law,
In aught elfe I'm confcious of making a flaw:
Either giving or teaching to you would be wrong,
Since you teach with your eyes, and inftruct with your
Oh how can I dare then to offer my voice,
To aid the inftructed in praife of my choice!
For who fees you and hears you, must feel alarm,
Yet I hope the contagion may do me no harm.
Tho' in love there is fomething I cannot express,
Which engroffes the heart, and impells a distress,
Yet the moments are sweet that govern the mind:
When love is the theme, and when reafon is blind,
It conquers our fancy, replenishes thought,
Gleans wisdom from fools, and takes fomething from
The grave and the fage in philofophy drown'd,
When touch'd by its pangs in fweet raptures abound;
Devoid of all fenfe from the ruft of old times,
They lay down their prose and advert to their rhymes,
In praise hoth of Cupid and his fond mama,
'Till faint with excess, they become a papa.
And now all digreffion aside and apart,
I'll prefume to inform you the sense of my heart,
And believe me, I hope that you will adhere
To the ties both of honour, and your's moft fincere,
In preserving a prudence, fo long as life laît,
For twenty to come, as for seven years past;
And not to indulge from your fancy or will,
A paffion too great for repute to distil:
But in love for the prefent, both ponder and pause;
Be cautious of felf, and be cautious of laws,
Except thofe which teach us to pray and to watch,
That those who harm mean, may harm ever catch.
-Now fince I have touch'd on ev'ry expedient,
I must subscribe myself, your most obedient;
But firft let me tell you, in love and in laws,
You are fure of a friend in fincere Mr. DAWES.
As Phillis one morning a maying would go,
While I look'd at her hard-and ask'd her why so? She faintly reply'd with a voice full of love, "I cannot do ought but I'm fure you'll approve."
Oh why would you crave me to stay by your fide, Says Phillis who blush'd, like a new marry'd bride; Since to love we can yield, in the space of a year, Enjoyments enough without forrow or fear?
"But what are the pleasures of maying to me,
"Or what are the joys that arife unto thee;
"When you hafte from my fight, and leave me
"When your lofs I lament in the ftillnefs of morn ?"
Still prefs'd by my Phillis for abfence of leave,
I almost allow'd her my foul to deceive;
And panting, and fighing, I could not defift,
But embrac'd her again, and with kiffes was kifs'd.
Then after a fiction fo fond and fo free,
As that of my Phillis tormenting of me;
To fhew you a maying how much fshe was prone, She heard me but figh-then declar'd fhe had done:
An A CROSTIC,
On Mifs YOUNG, of Drury-lane Theatre. E fteem'd by truth, in virtue's path you rove, Like Pallas great, thy various paffions move; In thee bright excellence performs its part, Z enophon no lefs could touch the filent heart. Art in conflict with fimple nature vies,
But nature rules where art relentless dies.
E late with pow'r, you pierce with dear controul,
The toil-ftrung nerve, and animated foul.
Harmonious in voice, thy words in softness flow,
Young tho' their tube, they melt the Dian fnow:
On thee, chief author of my present thought,
Unfolds the pen of truth, thus unbesought,
N or flatters thou, who are (befides carefs'd)
Great without title, and with wisdom bless'd.
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