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X.

Why then I weep, forbear to know:
Fall uncontroul'd, my tears, and free:

O Damon! 'tis the only woe,

I ever yet conceal'd from thee.
XI.

The fecret wound with which I bleed
Shall lie wrapt up, ev'n in my hearfe;
But on my tomb-ftone thou fhalt read
My answer to thy dubious verfe.

Answer to CLOE JEALOUS, in the fame Stile; the AUTHOR fick.

I.

VES, fairest proof of Beauty's power,

YES

Dear idol of my panting heart,

Nature points this my fatal hour:
And I have liv'd; and we must part.
II.

While now I take my last adieu,

Heave thou no figh, nor shed a tear;
Left yet my half-clos'd eye may view,
On earth an object worth its care.
III.

From Jealoufy's tormenting strife
For ever be thy bosom freed:
That nothing may difturb thy life,

Content I haften to the dead.

IV. Yet

IV.

Yet when some better-fated youth

Shall with his amorous parly move thee;
Reflect one moment on his truth

Who dying thus, perfifts to love thee.

A BETTER

DEAR

ANSWER.

EAR Cloc, how blubber'd is that pretty face! Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurl'd: Pr'ythee quit this caprice; and (as old Falftaff fays) Let us ev'n talk a little like folks of this world.

11.

How canft thou prefume, thou haft leave to deftroy The beauties, which Venus but lent to thy keeping? Those looks were defign'd to inspire love and joy : More ordinary eyes may ferve people for weeping.

III.

To be vext at a trifle or two that I writ,

Your judgment at once, and my paffion, you wrong: You take that for fact, which will scarce be found wit: Od's-life! muft one fwear to the truth of a fong?

IV.

What I fpeak, my fair Cloe, and what I write, fhews
The difference there is betwixt nature and art :

I court others in verfe; but I love thee in profe:
And they have my whimfies, but thou haft my heart."

VOL. I.

K

V. The

The LADY who offers her LOOKING-GLASS to VENUS.

Taken from an Epigram of PLATO.

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FORBEAR to afk me, why I weep;

Vext Cloe to her shepherd faid;

"Tis for my two poor ftraggling sheep,
Perhaps, or for my fquirrel dead.
II.

For mind I what you late have writ?
Your fubtle questions and replies?
Emblems, to teach a female wit

The ways, where changing Cupid flies?

III.

Your riddle purpos'd to rehearse

The general power that beauty has : But why did no peculiar verse

Defcribe one charm of Cloe's face?

IV. The

IV.

The glafs, which was at Venus' shrine,
With fuch mysterious forrow laid :
The garland (and you call it mine)
Which fhew'd how youth and beauty fades
V.

Ten thousand trifles light as these

Nor can my rage, nor anger, move:
She should be humble, who would please;
And the muft fuffer, who can love.
VI.

When in my glass I chanc'd to look;
Of Venus what did I implore?

That every grace, which thence I took,

Should know to charm my Damon more,
VII.

Reading thy verfe; who heeds, faid I,
If here or there his glances flew ? •
O, free for ever be his eye,

Whofe heart to me is always true!

VIII.

My bloom indeed, my little flower.
Of Beauty quickly loft its pride:
For, fever'd from its native bower,
It on thy glowing bofom dy'd.
IX.

Yet car'd I not what might prefage

Or withering wreath, or fleeting youth; Love I efteem'd more ftrong than Age, And Time lefs permanent than Truth.

X.

Why then I weep, forbear to know:
Fall uncontroul'd, my tears, and free;
Damon! 'tis the only woe,

I ever yet conceal'd from thee.
XI.

The fecret wound with which I bleed
Shall lie wrapt up, ev'n in my hearfe;
But on my tomb-ftone thou shalt read
My answer to thy dubious verse.

Answer to CLOE JEALOUS, in the fame Stile; the AUTHOR fick.

YE

I.

TES, faireft proof of Beauty's power,
Dear idol of my panting heart,

Nature points this my fatal hour:
And I have liv'd; and we must part.
II.

While now I take my last adieu,

Heave thou no figh, nor shed a tear;
Left yet my half-clos'd eye may view,
On earth an object worth its care.
III.

From Jealoufy's tormenting ftrife
For ever be thy bosom freed:
That nothing may disturb thy life,

Content I haften to the dead.

IV. Yet

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