Chloris. Kiffes are empty Joys, and foon are o'er. Daph. A Kifs betwixt the Lips is fomething more. Chlo. I wipe my Mouth, and where's your kiffing Daph. I fwear you wipe it to be kiss'd agen. [then? Chlo. Go tend your Herd, and kiss your Cows at I am a Maid, and in my Beauty's bloom. [home; Daph. 'Tis well remember'd,do not waste your time; But wifely use it e'er you pafs your prime.

Chlo. Blown Rofes hold their Sweetness to the last, And Raifins keep their luscious native taste.

Daph. The Sun's too hot; thofe Olive shades are I fain wou'd whisper fomething in your Ear. [near; Chlo. 'Tis honeft talking where we may be seen, God knows what fecret Mischief you may mean; I doubt you'll play the Wag, and kiss again.

Daph. At least beneath yon' Elm you need not My Pipe's in tune, if you're difpos'd to hear. [fear; Chlo. Play by your felf, I dare not venture thither: You, and your naughty Pipe go hang together. Daph. Coy Nymph beware, left Venus you offend: Chlo. I fhall have chafte Diana ftill to Friend. Daph. You have a Soul, and Cupid has a Dart; Chlo. Diana will defend, or heal my Heart. Nay, fie, what mean you in this open place? Unhand me, or, I fwear, I'll fcratch your Face. Let go for fhame; you make me mad for fpight; My Mouth's my own; and if you kifs, I'll bite.

Daph. Away with your diffembling Female Tricks: What, wou'd you 'fcape the Fate of all your Sex? Chlo. I fwear I'll keep my Maidenhead 'till death, And die as pure as Queen Elizabeth. [down;

Daph. Nay mum for that; but let me lay the
Better with me, than with fome naufeous Clown.
Chlo. I'd have you know, if I were fo inclin'd,
I have been woo'd by many a wealthy Hind;
But never found a Husband to my Mind.

Daph. But they are abfent all; and I am here;
Chlo. The matrimonial Yoke is hard to bear;

And Marriage is a woful word to hear,

лили

Daph. A Scare-crow, fet to frighten Fools away; Marriage has Joys; and you fhall have a say.

Chlo. Sour Sawce is often mix'd with our Delight, You kick by Day more than you kifs by Night.

Daph. Sham Stories all; but fay the worft you can, A very Wife fears neither God nor Mans

Chlo. But Child-birth is, they fay, a deadly pain; It costs at least a Month to knit again.

Daph. Diana cures the Wounds Lucina made; Your Goddefs is a Midwife by her Trade. Chlo. But I fhall spoil my Beauty if I bear. Daph. But Mam and Dad are pretty names to hear. Chlo. But there's a civil Question us'd of late; Where lies my Jointure, where your own Eftate? Daph. My Flocks, my Fields, my Wood, my Paftures With Settlement as good as Law can make. [take, Chlo. Swear then you will not leave me on the

common,

But marry me, and make an honeft Woman.

Daph. I fwear by Pan (tho' he wears Horns you'll Cudgell'd and kick'd, I'll not be forc'd away. [fay) Chlo. I bargain for a wedding Bed at least, A House, and handfome Lodging for a Guest. Daph. A Houfe well furnish'd shall be thine to keep; And for a Flock-bed I can fheer my Sheep.

Chlo. What Tale fhall I to my old Father tell? Daph. 'Twill make him Chuckle thou'rt beftow'd fo well.

Chlo. But after all, in Troth I am to blame
To be fo loving, e'er I know your Name.
A pleafant founding Name's a pretty thing:

Daph. Faith, mine's a very pretty Name to fing;

They call me Daphnis: Lycidas my Sire,
Both found as well as Woman can defire.

Nomaa bore me; Farmers in degree,

He a good Husband, a good Houfwife fhe.

Chlo. Your Kindred is not much amifs, 'tis true, Yet I am fomewhat better born th..n you.

Daph. I know your Father, and his Family; And without boafting am as good as he, Menelaus; and no Mafter goes before.

Chlo. Hang both our Pedigrees; not one word more ; But if you love me, let me fee your Living, Your House and Home; for feeing is believing. Daph. See firft yon Cypress Grove, (a fhade from Noon ;) [foon.

Chlo. Browze on my Goats; for I'll be with you Daph. Feed well my Bulls, to whet your Appetite; That each may take a lufty Leap at Night.

Chlo. What do you mean (uncivil as you are,) To touch my Breafts, and leave my Bofom bare? Daph. Thefe pretty Bubbies firft I make my own. Chlo. Pull out your Hand, I swear, or I fhall fwoon. Daph. Why does thy ebbing Blood forfake thy Face? Chlo. Throw me at leaft upon a cleaner place: My Linnen ruffled, and my Waftcoat foiling, [ing? What do you think new Cloaths were made for fpoilDaph. I'll lay my Lambskins underneath thy Back: Chlo. My Head-Geer's off; what filthy work you Daph. To Venus firft, I lay these Off'rings by; [make! Chlo. Nay firft look round, that no body be nigh: Methinks I hear a whisp'ring in the Grove.

Daph. The Cypress Trees are telling Tales of Love. Chlo. You tear off all behind me, and before me; And I'm as naked as my Mother bore me.

Daph. I'll buy thee better Cloaths than thefe I tear, And lie fo clofe, I'll cover thee from Air.

Chlo. Y' are liberal now; but when your turn is fped, You'll wish me choak'd with every Cruft of Bread. Daph. I'll give thee more, much more than I have Wou'd I cou'd coin my very Heart to Gold. [told; Chlo. Forgive thy Handmaid (Huntress of the I fee there's no refifting Flesh and Blood! [Wood.) Daph. The noble Deed is done; my Herds I'll cull; Cupid, be thine a Calf; and Venus, thine a Bull. Chlo. A Maid I can.e, in an unlucky Hour, But hence return, without my Virgin flow'r.

Daph. A Maid is but a barren Name at beft; If thou canft hold, I bid for Twins at least.

Thus did this happy Pair their love difpence With mutual Joys, and gratify'd their Sense; The God of Love was there a bidden Guest; And prefent at his own myfterious Feast. His azure Mantle underneath he spread, And scatter'd Rofes on the Nuptial Bed; While folded in each others Arms they lay, He blew the Flames, and furnish'd out the play, And from their Foreheads wip'd the balmy Sweat

away.

Firft rofe the Maid, and with a glowing Face,
Her down-caft Eyes beheld her print upon the Grass;
Thence to her Herd fhe fped her self in hafte:
The Bridegroom ftarted from his Trance at laft,
And piping homeward jocoundly he paft.

HORACE Lib. 1. Ode 9.

By Mr. DRY DEN.

I.

Ehold yon' Mountain's hoary height

Again behold the Winter's weight

Oppress the lab'ring Woods below: And Streams with icy Fetters bound, Benumb'd and crampt to folid Ground.

II.

With well-heap'd Logs diffolve the cold,
And feed the genial Hearth with Fires;
Produce the Wine, that makes us bold,

And sprightly Wit and Love inspires:
For what hereafter fhall betide,
God, if 'tis worth his Care, provide

Let

'III.

Let him alone, with what he made,
To tofs and turn the World below;
At his Command the Storms invade;
The Winds by his Commiffion blow;
'Till with a Nod he bids 'em ceafe,

And then the Calm returns, and all is peace.
IV.

To Morrow and her Works defie,
Lay hold upon the present Hour,
And fnatch the pleasures paffing by,

To put them out of Fotune's pow'r:
Nor Love, nor Love's delights difdain,
Whate'er thou ger'ft to Day, is Gain.

V.

Secure thofe golden early Joys,

That Youth unfour'd with Sorrow bears,
E'er with'ring Time the tafte destroys,
With Sickness and unwieldy Years!
For active Sports, for pleasing Reft,
This is the time to be poffeft;
The beft is but in Seafon best.

VI.

The pointed Hour of promis'd Bliss,
The pleafing Whisper in the dark,
The half unwilling willing Kifs,

The Laugh that guides thee to the Mark,
When the kind Nymph wou'd Coyness feign,
And hides but to be found again,

Thefe, these are Joys the Gods for Youth ordain.

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VOL. II.