AMON, if you will believe me,
'Tis not fighing on the plain,

Song nor fonnet can relieve ye;

Faint attempts in love are vain.

Urge but home the fair occafion,
And be master of the field;

To a powerful kind invafion

'Twere a madness not to yield.

Love gives out a large commiffion,
Still indulgent to the brave;

But one fin of bafe omiffion

Never woman yet forgave.

Tho' fhe vows fhe'll ne'er permit ye,
Cries you're rude and much to blame,
And with tears implores your pity;

Be not merciful, for shame.

When

When the fierce affault is over,
CHLORIS time enough will find
This her cruel furious lover
Much more gentle, not so kind.

SEDLEY.

WHAT! put off with one denial,

And not make a fecond trial ?

You might fee my eyes confenting,
All about me was relenting;

Women oblig'd to dwell in forms
Forgive the youth that boldly ftorms.

Lovers when you figh and languish,
When you tell us of your anguish,
To the nymph you'll be more pleafing
When those forrows you are eafing:
We love to try how far men dare,
And never wish the foe should spare..

L

ET not Love on me beftow

Soft diftrefs and tender woe; I know none but fubftantial bliffes, Eager glances, folid kiffes.

I know not what the lovers feign
Of finer pleasure mix'd with pain;
Then pr'ythee give me, gentle boy,
None of thy grief, but all thy joy.

STEEL.

HY we love, and why we hate,
Is not granted us to know;

Random chance, or wilful fate

Guides the shaft from Cupid's bow.

If on me ZELINDA frown,`

Madness 'tis all in me to grieve;
Since her will is not her own,
Why fhould I uneafy live.

If I for ZELINDA die

Deaf to poor MIZELLA's cries, Afk not me the reason why;

Seek the riddle in the skies.

PHILLIPS.

D

EAR COLIN prevent my warm blushes, Since how can I speak without pain? My eyes have oft told you my wifhes, O! can't you their meaning explain?

My paffion would lose by expreffion,
And you too might cruelly blame;
Then don't you expect a confeffion,

Of what is too tender to name.

Since yours is the province of speaking,
Why fhould you expect it from me ?
Our wishes fhould be in our keeping,
Till you tell us what they should be.

Then quickly why don't you difcover?
Did your heart feel fuch tortures as mine,
Eyes need not tell over and over

What I in my bosom confine.

L. M. W. MONTAGUE.

Go

The ANSWER.

WOOD Madam, when ladies are willing,
A man muft needs look like a fool;

For me I would not give a fhilling
For one that can love without rule.

At least you fhould wait for our offers,

Nor fnatch like old maids in defpair;

If you've lived to these years without proffers
Your fighs are now left in the air.
p

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