Torment not thus your pretty heart: Think, Flavia, we may meet again, As well as, that we now must part. You figh and weep: the Gods neglect We pray, in hopes they will be kind, Then clear your brow, and look more gay, Who knows but that those powers may But, fince they have thus cruel been, R Then Then, Flavia, come, and let us grieve, Believe we must embrace no more. Yet, fhould our fun fhine out at last; To make two wandering lovers meet; How great then would our pleasure be, But fay, fhould Heaven bring no relief, SE T V. SET BY M R. DE F.ES CH. LET perjur'd fair Amynta know, What for her fake I undergo; But, oh! the fcorns to hear, or fee, PHILLIS, fince we have both been kind, And of each other had our fill; Tell me what pleasure you can find, In forcing nature 'gainst her will. "Tis true, you may with art and pain Then let us free each other's foul, And teach us how to whine by rule. Let us no impofitions fet, Or clogs upon each other's heart; We We both have spent our stock of love, VII. SET BY SC H MR. D E FESC H. PHILLIS, this pious talk give o’er, And modeftly pretend no more; It is too plain an art : Surely you take me for a fool, And would by this prove me so dull, As not to know your heart. In vain you fancy to deceive, But this is all a fham; Since any one may plainly fee, You'd only fave yourfelf with me, And with another damn. |