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By me indeed you are allow'd

The wonder of your kind ;
But be not of my judgment proud

Whom love has render'd blind.



Y love was fickle once and changing,

Nor e'er would settle in my heart, From beauty still to beauty ranging,

In every face I found a dart.

'Twas first a charming shape enflay'd me,

the fatal stroke; Till by her wit CORINNA fav’d me,

And all my former fetters broke.

But now a long and lasting anguish

For BELVIDERA I endure ; Hourly I figh, and hourly languish, Nor hope to find the wonted cure.

O 2


For here the false inconstant lover

After a thousand beauties showni, Does new surprising charms discover,

And finds variety in one.


OT, Celia, that I juster am,

Or truer than the rest ;
For I would change each hour like them,

Were it interest.


But I'm so fix'd alone to thee

By every thought I have,
That should you now my heart set free

'Twould be again your slave.

All that in woman is ador'd

In thy dear felf I find;
For the whole sex can but afford

The handsome, and the kind,


Not to my virtue, but thy power

This constancy is due,
When change itself can give no more

"Tis easy to be true.


T is not, Celia, in our power

To say how long our love will last;

may we within this hour
May lose the joys we now do taste :
The blessed that immortal be
From change of love are only free.

Then since we mortal lovers are,
Ask not how long our love will last;

But while it does, let us take care
Each minute be with pleasure paft :
Were it not madness to deny
To live, because we're sure to die?




AY, MYRA, why is gentle love

A stranger to that mind, Which pity and esteem can move ;

Which can be just and kind ?

Is it because you fear to share

The ills that love moleft;
The jealous doubt, the tender care,

That rack the am'rous breaft?

Alas! by some degree of woe

We every bliss must gain :
The heart can ne'er a transport know,

That never feels a pain.

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YNTHIA frowns whene'er I woo her,

Yet she's vex'd if I give over ;
Much she fears I should undo her,

But much more to lose her lover :
Thus in doubting the refuses,
And not winning thus she loses.

Pr’ythee Cynthia look behind you,

Age and wrinkles will o’ertake you,
Then too late desire will find you
When the

does forsake

you. Think, oh! think, the fad condition To be past, yet with fruition.



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