You cannot know what fecret pain I prove,
When I with burning blushes own I love.
You fee my artlefs joy at your approach,
I figh, I faint, I tremble at your touch;
And in
your absence all the world I fhun;
I hate mankind, and curfe the chearing fun.
Still as I fly, ten thousand swains pursue ;
Ten thousand fwains I facrifice to you.
I fhew you all my heart without disguise:
But these are tender proofs that you defpife.
I fee too well what wishes you pursue;
You wou'd not only conquer, but undo:
You, cruel victor, weary of your flame,
Would seek a cure in my eternal fhame;
And not content my honour to fubdue,
Now ftrive to triumph o'er my virtue too.
Oh! Love, a god indeed to womankind,
Whose arrows burn me and whose fetters bind,
Avenge thy altars, vindicate thy fame,
And blaft these traytors that profane thy name;
Who by pretending to thy facred fire,
Raife curfed trophies to impure defire.
Have you forgot with what enfnaring art You first feduc'd this fond uncautious heart? Then as I filed, did you not kneeling cry, "Turn, cruel beauty; whither wou'd you fly? "Why all these doubts? why this distrustful fear? "No impious wishes fhall offend your ear:
"Nor ever shall my boldest hopes pretend
"Above the title of a tender friend;
"Bleft, if my lovely goddess will permit
"My humble vows thus fighing at her feet,
"The tyrant Love that in my bosom reigns,
"The god himself submits to wear your chains,
"You fhall direct his course, his ardour tame,
"And check the fury of his wildest flame.”
Unpractis'd youth is easily deceiv'd;
Sooth'd by fuch founds, I liften'd and believ'd;
Now quite forgot that soft fubmiffive fear,
You dare to ask what I must blush to hear.
Cou'd I forget the honour of my race,
And meet your wishes, fearlefs of disgrace;
Cou'd paffion o'er my tender youth prevail,
And all my mother's pious maxims fail;
Yet to preserve your heart (which ftill muft be,
Falfe as it is, for ever dear to me)
This fatal proof of love I would not give,
Which you'd contemn the moment you receive.
The wretched she, who yields to guilty joys,
A man may pity, but he muft defpife.
Your ardour ceas'd, I then fhou'd fee
The wretched victim by your arts undone,
Yet if I cou'd that cold indifference bear,
What more wou'd strike me with the last despair,
With this reflection wou'd my foul be torn,
To know I merited your cruel fcorn.
"Has love no pleasures free from guilt or fear?
"Pleasures lefs fierce, more lafting, more fincere ?
"Thus let us gently kiss and fondly gaze,
"Love is a child, and like a child it plays."
O STREPHON, if you wou'd continue juft,
If love be something more than brutal luft,
Forbear to ask what I muft ftill deny,
This bitter pleasure, this destructive joy,
So closely follow'd by the dismal train
Of cutting fhame, and guilt's heart-piercing pain.
She paus'd; and fix'd her eyes upon her fan;
He took a pinch of fnuff, and thus began ;
Madam, if love-but he cou'd say no more,
For Mademoiselle came rapping at the door.
The dangerous moments no adieus afford,
-Begone, fhe cries, I'm fure I hear my lord.
The lover ftarts from his unfinish'd loves,
To fnatch his hat, and seek his scatter'd gloves :
The fighing dame to meet her dear prepares,
While Strephon curfing flips down the back-ftairs.
HE baffette-table spread, the tallier come,
Why ftays SMILINDA in the dreffing-room? Rife, penfive nymph! the tallier ftays for you.
Ah! Madam, fince my SHARPER is untrue,
I joyless make my once ador'd alpieu.
I faw him ftand behind OMBRELIA's chair,
And whisper with that foft, deluding air,
And those feign'd fighs, that cheat the list'ning fair.
CARDELIA.
Is this the cause of your romantick strains ?
A mightier grief my heavy heart sustains.
As you by Love, so I'by Fortune cross'd,
In one bad deal three feptlevas I loft.
Is that a grief which you compare with mine?
With ease the smiles of Fortune I refign.
Wou'd all my gold in one bad deal were gone,
Were lovely SHARPER mine, and mine alone:
A lover loft is but a common care,
And prudent nymphs against the change prepare.
The queen of clubs thrice loft! oh! who cou'd guess This fatal ftroke! this unforeseen distress!
See! BETTY LOVEIT very à propos !
She all the pains of love and play does know,
Deeply experienc'd many years ago..
Dear BETTY fhall th' important point decide,
BETTY, who oft the pains of each has try'd:
Impartial, fhe fhall fay who fuffers most,
By cards' ill-ufage, or by lovers loft.
Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I stay, Tho' time is precious, and I want some tea.
Behold this equipage by MATHERS wrought,
With fifty guineas (a great pen'orth!) bought!
See on the tooth-pick MARS and CUPID ftrive,
And both the struggling figures feem to live.
Upon the bottom fee the queen's bright face;
A myrtle foliage round the thimble cafe ;
JOVE, JOVE himself does on the fciffars fhine,
The metal and the workmanship divine.
This fnuff-box, once the pledge of SHARPER'S love, When rival beauties for the present strove→
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