R'YTHEE now, fond fool, give o'er;
Since my heart is gone before,
To what purpose should I stay?
Love commands another way.
Perjur'd fwain, I knew the time
When diffembling was your crime,
In pity now employ that art,
Which first betray'd, to cafe my heart.
STREPHON.
Women can with pleasure feign:
Men diffemble still with pain.
What advantage will it prove,
If I lye, who cannot love?
Tell me then the reason, why
Love from hearts in love does fly?
Why the bird will build a neft,
Where the ne'er intends to reft?
Love, like other little boys,
Cries for hearts, as they for toys:
Which when gain'd, in childish play,
Wantonly are thrown away.
Still on wing, or on his knees,
Love does nothing by degrees:
Bafely flying when moft priz'd,
Meanly fawning when defpis'd.
Flattering or infulting ever,
Generous and grateful never :
All his joys are fleeting dreams,
All his woes fevere extremes.
STREPH ON.
Nymph, unjustly you inveigh;
Love, like us, must Fate obey.
Since 'tis Nature's law to change,
Conftancy alone is ftrange.
See the heavens in lightnings break,
Next in ftorms of thunder fpeak;
Till a kind rain from above
Makes a calm---fo 'tis in love.
Flames begin our first address,
Like meeting thunder we embrace :
Then, you know, the fhowers that fall
Quench the fire, and quiet all.
How should I the fhowers forget?
'Twas so pleasant to be wet!
They kill'd love, I knew it well.
I dy'd all the while they fell.
Say at least what nymph it is,
Robs my breaft of fo much blifs?
If the 's fair, I fhall be eas'd,
Through my ruin you 'll be pleas'd.
STREP HON.
Daphne never was so fair,
Strephon, scarcely, fo fincere.
Gentle, innocent, and free,
Ever pleas'd with only me.
Many charms my heart enthral,
But there's one above them all :
With averfion, she does fly
Tedious, trading, conftancy.
DAPHN E.
Cruel fhepherd! I submit,
Do what love and you think fit:
Change is fate, and not design.
Say you would have still been mine.
STREP HON.
Nymph, I cannot: 'tis too true,
Change has greater charms than you.
Be, by my example, wife;
Faith to pleasure facrifice.
DAPHNE.
Silly fwain, I'll have you know,
'Twas my practice long ago :
Whilft you vainly thought me true,
I was falfe, in fcorn of you.
By my tears, my heart's disguise,
I thy love and thee despise.
Womankind more joy discovers
Making fools, than keeping lovers.
Scorch'd up with love, froze with disdain,
Of killing sweetness I complain.
STREP HON.
If 'tis Corinna, die.
Since first my dazzled eyes were thrown
On that bewitching face,
Like ruin'd birds robb'd of their young,
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